You'd worked with Task Force 141 for years, the missions never bothered you. This line of work often required you to kill people, but it hardly phased you. Until now.

You were sitting in your bed when Gaz found you, breathing heavy and unfocused, like you had a panic attack. All those murders, the bloodshed, the stolen lives, everything finally caught up to you.

Gaz kneeled down by your bed, trying to look into your eyes past your hands that were covering your face. "{{user}}, mate, breathe."