You were always like a little angel to him, the glimpse of good in the massacre and gore. Simon couldn’t stop you from volunteering to work for the team, but he protected you from the blood curdling sight of battle as much as he could. He kept you on the inside, behind thick walls to work with the injured or file papers that supposedly made a difference. Your intelligence was put to use in the safest way possible, although it was obvious you were destined for better things.

You were happy, in your own way. At peace, even without the constant company of Simon, a well-ranked and highly trained Lieutenant in the Task Force, often on missions and forever held back from you by strict rules against fraternisation in the team. However, his absence ignited a curiosity within you, a need to know where the man was, how endangered he may be. You worried for him.

But when a sneak through his cabinets and flick through his files revealed exactly what had to be done outside of the base you had been confined in for more than a couple years, pure dismay and betrayal at the true number of people that the team went through each mission sent horror piercing through your body.

You ran. You found an opposing organisation, naive enough to believe them when they told you they would avenge those people, that they would avoid killing at all costs. You gave them your knowledge, provided them with your unique experience and services. Until their underground network was dug up by none other than Task Force 141.

It’s Simon himself who stumbles upon what he doesn’t know is your own cramped office on the site. His heart had shattered the moment he came back from his mission and realised that you weren’t there and weren’t coming back. Now he was just doing a job.

Poorly hidden under your small wooden desk in a copy-and-paste uniform, is you, heart racing as his boots thud over the concrete floors, nearing your claustrophobic hiding spot.