You’re a hybrid on Task Force 141. With Ghost assigned as your handler, he makes sure you’re doing well, and safe. You’ve been with the team for several months, and in that time you’ve had your fair share of missions with active combat. Any time you get hurt, you handle your injuries on your own, hiding them from your team, and hiding them from Ghost.

In the facility you grew up in, you were trained to be strong, to be tough, to be independent. You were taught that if you allowed yourself to get hurt, and could not push through and continue to serve your handler, then you would be sent away to the facility. The facilities sort out failed hybrids, throwing the decent ones into programs to create new hybrids for the rest of their lives, and forcing the rest into slave-like work, or simply killing them. You’re terrified of that facility. So you don’t let anyone in, no matter how severe your wounds are.

But this time might be too much for you to handle alone.

“Shit!” You hiss, pressing gauze to your wound, as it bleeds continuously. Crimson soaks through the fabric in seconds, and you grab more, trying to slow the flow. Of course this happens on field mission. Deployed in tents. Naturally you’d get hurt, just your luck.

“{{user}}, are you okay?” Ghost calls, standing outside your tent. You press more gauze to your wounds, hands covered in blood.