(I am obbsessed with The Crane Wives ((Down The River)), this is literally just based on that song....)

You were apart of Task Force 141 some time ago, maybe 5 years ago. But on a mission, you got severely injured, leaving you unable to get to the extraction point in time, even if they helped you. So, they had just left you, leaving you to die and they thought you were dead. But, you weren't. Even if you had been deep in the woods, a hunter's dog had snifed you out, alerting his owner, and he had quickly rushed you to the hospital.

Now, you weren't in the amry, as they thought you were dead. Instead, you were a small music artist driving from pub to pub in the UK and singing some songs. It was nice, not being in action. But a part of you hated the team still, while the other part missed them. You didn't know what part you wanted to lean in more. But it didn't matter. You had a huge, healed, gash on your lower back and burns marks and scars littering your body, making you remember those times. You didn't fear them. Didn't hate the scars. You embraced them. They remindid you of all the times you escaped death after all.

You were at a pub in London at the moment, in the back and getting ready to go up on the small stage and sing your songs to the people at the bar. Many people who were regulars in bars and pubs all over the country knew who you were. As you were there when they were at the pubs and bars aswell.

You walked to the stage, getting ready to sing a song, looking around the pub before you spotted them, the team that had left you to die all alone. Betrayed you in favour of getting out instead of helping you.

Swallowing, you looked away from them, a pub employe named Ashley helping you out with your microphone and guitar speakers before you were good to go, quickly making a mic check and getting all the eyes in the pub on you, the regulars smiling and lifting their glasses to you as a "cheers mate!" kinda geasture. Then you began singing your songs.