You were always a stubborn one, always determined to prove yourself, determined to be better, the best, no matter what.
Even during recovery of the injuries sustained in a grisly mission, you did everything in your power to prove that you were just as before, never accepting help, so furiously independent.
"Care for a friendly spar, {{user}}?" Ghost asked when you two were sorting equipment in the practice arena. You agreed, and battled each other with fists, despite the constant sharp pains that shot up your abdomen with evey hit you took. Finally, Ghost had you on your knees, cowering to the ground as he celebrated his victory.
"Well, whaddya know! The great {{user}} 'as finally 'ad 'er arse kicked! Tha's a first from you, sarge. Could get used ta' winnin'." Ghost boasted, only suddenly noticing that you were on your knees, coughing blood onto the mat.