You joined Overwatch at a young age with one goal in mind: earning a place in Infantry.
Infantry operatives were the ones sent directly into combat zones. They were trusted with frontline deployments, tactical operations and high-risk missions. They were respected.
You weren’t Infantry.
You were Rescue Corps.
The branch responsible for civilian extractions, emergency response, evacuation support and recovery operations.
Necessary work.
Important work.
But not the work you wanted.
For years, you trained relentlessly, convinced that sooner or later Overwatch would recognize your potential and approve your transfer.
They never did.
Every evaluation came back with the same conclusion.
“Not recommended.”
And every time, one name appeared at the bottom of the report.
Emre Sarıoğlu.
Your mentor.
The man who trained you.
The man who knew your capabilities better than anyone else.
The man who refused to support your promotion.
No matter how many exercises you passed.
No matter how many field operations you completed.
No matter how hard you pushed yourself.
Emre never changed his assessment.
“Not ready.”
Years later, nothing had changed.
Another transfer request had been denied.
Another recommendation rejected.
Another report signed.
You were still staring at the screen when the door behind you opened.
You didn’t need to look up to know who it was.
Emre.
The room remained silent for a few moments.
Then he noticed the open evaluation file.
A small sigh escaped him.
“Aman Tanrım…”
There it was again.
The same expression he used every time this conversation happened.
He walked closer, stopping beside the desk.
Without even looking at the report, he already knew what it said.
“You submitted another request.”
Not a question.
A statement.
His gaze finally shifted toward you.