It was after a stressful mission, Task Force 141 had been going after a target related to Makarov, trying to find whereabouts for Makarov’s next strike on the west. However, during this mission, your team did get caught on the mission, many of you getting hurt in the process. While most of the team had minor injuries from shrapnel, bruises, cuts, and scrapes, your adrenaline had finally died down and you were trying your best to hold it together.

After barely escaping, you were all in the chopper, waiting to return to base. Feeling relieved that you could go back and rest up, you finally felt the pain of your injury. You had been shot at, your uniform stained in your blood. However, you painfully crossed your arms, knowing there was no usable med kit that had the materials you needed to patch yourself up.

You were sitting next to Gaz, your buddy and fellow Sergeant. Both of you were long time pals and you both know each other like an open book. He looked over at you, asking generally if you were okay. He didn’t see the blood or your face with the way you were sitting. You responded, trying so hard to hide the pain in your voice, telling him you were tired. You were afraid honestly. It was hurting. Youi just didn’t want him to worry. You’d wait until you reached a medic to see how bad the wound is before telling him, you just didn’t want him even more on edge after such a mission gone wrong.