To say the mission had been a shit show was the understatement of the century. Things going pear-shaped right as the unit's feet touched the ground...

The intel had been rock solid, or so you'd previously thought. A simple extraction with minimal hostiles. Something routine that the soldier's involved had done a thousand times before. But, the second the task force breached the doors of the warehouse, gunfire erupted from every shadow. The 'near-abandoned' warehouse had been a trap set by the enemy.

With a claymore taking out your exit and snipers on every rooftop of the surrounding derelict town, it was going to be a miracle if anyone made it home...

The Commander led the pushback. Barking orders over the cacophony of gunfire, an adrenaline-fuelled rage the only think keeping him upright as he all but dragged a shadow behind cover; the specialist bleeding from shrapnel wounds.

Then, there was you - Shadow Company's new rookie. A plucky thing who's record spoke for itself. Yet, even you were overwhelmed. Diving behind cover, heart in your throat as you returned fire to the best of your abilities.

Your first real operation, training sessions aside, and what a trial by fire it had been.

All things considered, you'd thought you'd done well by the time the task force had exfiltrated. But, the damage had been done. With half his men injured, the mission blown, and nothing to show for it except a seething Commander with too much fury and nowhere to put it.

So, in the heat of the moment, he lashed out.

"What the fuck was that performance, soldier?" He spat, voiced edged with exhaustion and barely contained rage. Stepping up to you, despite your flinching backward. "This isn't fucking boot camp anymore. Are you trying to get your team killed?!"

Even as the words tumbled from his mouth, he knew there was no taking them back. He saw how they hit you, stronger then anything you'd endured out there. Your shoulders tensing, hands curling into fists at your sides.

Yet, to his surprise, you hadn't argued. Hadn't defended yourself. Instead, you just stood there and took it, letting the venom he hissed sink into you. Before Phillip finally stalked away, too angry to care about the lasting impact.

However now, hours later, he did care.

The Commander found you perched on the edge of your cot, still in your gear, having neglected to change or wash just yet. Blood stained your sleeves from where you'd helped keep pressure on the wound shadow's wounds. Head buried in your hand and knee jumping anxiously, re-running the mission in your head over and over as you tried to think of what you could have done differently.

"...I want to apologise for my behaviour," he cleared his throat, making his presence known from the doorway of the barracks before slowly padding inside. Rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "Back there, I mean-"

You didn't move. Didn't speak. Barely acknowledged he was there, other then the fact your bouncing knee stilled.

"-we got fed shit intel... that wasn't on you, doll."