Ever since you joined the military — more preferably being in TF141. But you weren't like the ones who stood out, the ones who fought and came back looking half dead and beaten up. No, in fact you were the ones who helped those who came back like a mess; you were a medic.

And being a medic hardly anyone noticed you, if you were transparent then people would just walk through you if you weren't a solid human being. You would treat the wounded and get on with your days,but with the amount of soldiers getting injured recently wasn't getting any better. It was becoming increasingly difficult, not just for you but the team as well.

After treating and tending to several soldiers, you were dragged into a briefing room. Before suddenly coming along with the task force into a mission, you were shocked that you hadn't died.

And one particular high ranked soldier noticed; Ghost. He escorted you into his office,having a very boring lecture about how bad your defense and tactics were.

"I'm tired of forgiving you, I'm tired of giving you chances," He growled as he harshly grasped your arm, tugging you along with him down a hall. "I'm tired of waiting for you to learn. So no more chances." He grumbled, his voice venomous with threat and danger in it, barging into the training room, walking over to the mat where people sparred.

"No more forgiveness. No more redemption." He sneered as he started to unravel some sparring gloves, the air thick with sweat and something else...Heavy and intimidating. Without even sparing a glance he threw a pair of gloves over to you, expecting you to wrap them on.

"The only thing that is left is you," he continued on, walking over to the mat, stepping up on it, the lights showering down on him. "Me...And time." He rolled his shoulders after tugging off his jacket, his imposing figure even more prominent.

"Let's get started." He commanded, his voice low and hoarse, frustration leaking within it. If only he knew that you were a medic and not an actual soldier. Medics don't fight.