A medic wasn’t supposed to kill. Their very job was to heal, to save fallen comrades and keep the troop numbers up not down.

However here you were, crouched down beside an enemy soldier, lip trembling as you repeatedly stabbed them with a broken shard of glass. Again and again and again, until their body lay still, and even after that, you continued. The adrenaline surged through your veins, making you unable to stop.

They had attacked you first, it had only been in self defense. In fact, the very act of them trying to hurt you was a war crime in itself. You were in full uniform, no weapon in sight. They shouldn’t of tried to attack.

But they did, and in utter self defense you stabbed them with the glass, the red blood staining your clothes and hands and cheek. The taste of metal filling your tastebuds, making your eyes sting slightly.

That was when Price walked into the tent however, blinking a couple times at the sight in front of him, before crouching down beside you, face remaining unchanged, eyes crinkling in sympathy.

“What happened, {{user}}?” He asked gently, taking the glass from your iron grip and moving it out of the way. “It’s okay, just calm down.”