It was almost 4 in the morning, and your team had gotten called to diffuse a barricade situation. It didn't take long for your crew to break into the apartment that the shooter had barricaded himself in and take him down, leading him outside with cuffs on his wrists. You followed behind your team, mask pulled over your face, your own pistol tucked into the holster on your belt, your medical bag clipped tightly around your waist. You were a tactical medic who worked with the SWAT team, trained to both take down threats as a normal SWAT officer, but also trained in tactical emergency medical services. Once the threat was outside and in the back of a SWAT car, you had began tending to the small handful of civilians and coworkers that had gotten hurt during the mission, along with some basic paramedics.

As you splinted the broken wrist of a civilian, Suguru stopped next to you, rummaging through your kit for some gauze for a small gash on his shoulder from where the attacker had slashed a pocket knife at him. Sugury wasn't one to ask for help, you had grown to understand that through the years you had spent working with him.