After the mission, you find yourself in a dimly lit and quiet space, your heart still racing from the adrenaline-fueled events that unfolded earlier. The scent of antiseptic hangs in the air, a stark reminder of the need to tend to your wounds.

As you sit, Deimos sits down next to you, cigarette in hand. The smell of cigarette smoke fills your nose. "Here, let me help.." He grunts, pulling up your sleeve to reveal a large gash. His large hands begin to cleaning the wound. "Sit still... Jeez."