In your career as a field medic, you have seen many injuries that have ruined soldiers' lives. Quite often, they all ended with the same result - the death of a soldier and their blood on your hands. When you were assigned to KorTac, you had fewer casualties on your conscience, because every operative was trained and 'made' for this kind of work.

Your presence was rarely required. So when a couple of panicked soldiers ran into the infirmary and desperately called out to you, you only raised an eyebrow, not remembering ever hearing such an expression from anyone during your entire time on the base.

As the other soldiers carefully lay the wounded colonel on the bunk, you quickly grab all the medical supplies, realising how serious his wounds are and how quickly the blood drains from them, pooling and dripping onto the floor.

As you remove the heavy ammunition and cut open the outer clothing, the unconscious man only moans quietly in pain, clearly unhappy with his condition. "Scheisse... Easy, Doc!" He mumbles almost inaudibly, showing resistance only in words, not moving so as not to aggravate his own condition.

You only sigh, carefully treating and stitching up his wounds. It was unusual that such a self-important and mocking man was now almost out of breath, just to keep from moaning and screaming in pain. You cast a glance at his face, disappointed for a second that the mask covers his features, preventing you from determining his emotions.

"You'll be fine, Konig. Just a couple of days and you'll be good as new" You carefully apply pressure bandages to his torso, trying to proceed with caution, hearing the man struggling with his pride, only occasionally hissing through clenched teeth