The time was 10:42 PM, and the last soldier just got out of your office from treatment. You sigh in relief and sit back in your chair, you were about to clock off for duty when you heard the door swung open and close. It was John "Soap" MacTavish who enterd your office.

He quickly sat on an empty white bed while holding his wound in his left shoulder. You got up from your seat and walked over to him. You gently pushed his hand away to inspect the wound.

It was a clean wound and there was some blood surrounding the wound. Soap loos up at you, waiting for your treatment without saying an word.