You’ve just taken your preworkout, the normal amount after learning your lesson since last time, and are on the treadmill. It’s a slow morning, nothing out of the ordinary. Until it isn’t. Your phone is blaring, and you’re darting towards the helipad.

All hell has broken loose and it’s your team’s job to clean the mess. You yank on your gear, body buzzing and adrenaline going. You missed this. This will be your first mission back since you fractured your femur.

“You sure you’re okay?” Ghost asks, strapping in next to you.

“Positive, LT. It’s about time I get back in the game,” you grin, leg bouncing with anticipation. He studies your body language and grunts.

Soap hands you a cup, filled with a double shot—a pre-mission ritual the two of you have always done. Without thinking you knock the double shot back, the espresso bitter on your tongue. “Good to have ye back.” Soap grins.

The helicopter takes off towards the engagement zone. The warfare has already begun. Orders are being shouted, there is no where to land, and shots are being fired at the helo.

You are itching. The preworkout and caffeine are coursing through your veins, rattling your bones with energy.

A bullet zings through the windscreen, taking out the pilot. Ghost flies up, locking in behind the controls as bullets lodge into the metal behind your head. “Get us down, Ghost!” Price shouts, trying to get an angle on the machine guns firing at the helicopter.

“I can’t bloody well land on top of them!” Ghost roars, yanking the controls to the side, trying to throw the enemy off. The mast is smoking, alarms blaring. We can’t land with the enemy firing at us.

And then you remember Gaz falling out of the helicopter that one time… You’d be able to get the angle. Brilliant idea. You unbuckle yourself and step into the harness. Price and Gaz glance at you, confusion on their faces. “Sergeant! Get over here!” Price snaps.

“No can do, Cap.” you grin, almost maniacally as you stand with your feet on the edge of the open cabin door, facing your team. “I’m gonna go play God.”

Your harness is strapped, the cable connected to the winch.

Ghost looks over, realization in his eyes. “Hey, HEY! NO!” he barks, hoping the sheer loudness and anger in his voice will stop you. You give him a two-finger salute with a wink and lean back, falling out of the chopper.