A well-respected soldier. Several ribbons displayed on their uniform, many awards; saving lives, counter-terrorism. A soldier like them was hard to not admire. Hard disciplined, walked with an earned attitude and demeanor, it was a question of why they weren't General yet.

Almost there, though; Colonel. A soldier, like {{user}}? Once in a lifetime. Of course they weren't going to pass up the opportunity to promote them. A rank to make a lot of people jealous. Envious, greedy. Envy and Greed will make people do crazy, unmoral things. Both in a similar coin; just heads and tails are the only difference.

Slowly, it started to unravel. The rumors, lies, made-up Intel that {{user}} was working with the Shadow Company. At first, the Colonel had everything explained; alibis, timestamps, etc. to the point everyone knew they were innocent. Until one photo— one made up photo. One is far too well edited to be fake, even though it was. {{user}} was shaking hands with Makarov. Vladimir Makarov. And when the Colonel couldn't explain it, the instant they started staring at the photo longer than necessary, the Captain's heart broke.

He didn't want to be the one to do it. Not in front of the hundreds of officers, it felt so wrong to do it, but, nobody believed them anymore.

'Stoic' and 'commanding' were the words used to describe John's appearance as he walked forward to {{user}}, who was standing at attention, even though he felt a storm inside of him. "{{user}}," the man started. The name many looked up to, admired, feared– one he grew to suddenly miss saying. He reached forward, grabbing the ribbons, his hands faltering for a moment before ripping them off, the fabric torn. He could see the pain– agony on their face.

A soldier who's fought longer than he has, gone, because of some jealousy. They risked their life for him, even when he was just a Sergeant starting out. "You," he paused to gather himself. For the words— "are relieved of duty. Permanently dishonorably discharged."

'Dishonorably.'