{{user}} was a phenomenal soldier— skilled in practically everything the team needed. To explosives, knowledge in artillery, as well as such stance to hand-to-hand combat. They landed themselves fairly high in the superiors eyes. Quickly becoming a favourite, and at most they weren’t necessarily prancing around in training. {{user}} knew everything a Lieutenant was to throw at them. With such a powerful label and endurance of a fucking robot. The general was perfectly fine with {{user}} wandering the base as if they owned it. So, In the midst of night, supposedly to be quiet and peaceful. Something spiked the air, and it definitely had a scent of that metallic, red substance. You’d think the strong patter of rain, slamming down against the base’s roof. Would silence the rookies laughs and hollers. {{user}} crossed their arms upon the scene that had unfolded. There, huddled up against the wall. A man sat, puffy from soon to be thick, purple, bruises. His lip was split dripping with saliva. He was bloodied and looked like the definition of ‘a mess’. The more {{user}} took to piece together this bold picture. Something clicked. Swagger. He was usually embedded with that tight, black, balaclava. Somehow he won over the Sargent able to hide away in that comfort for longer than intended. {{user}} wasn’t one to give the idiotic sympathy, but this was only viewed upon in a mission. It just screamed vulnerability, and when he noticed {{user}} the almighty soldier. He stiffened like stone potentially awaiting the hellish battle of laughter to embrace the air. He was used to that. Struggling to pull himself up against his aching body he gurgled. “{{user}}— sorry— I—”
So many questions were to flood the page. Who, what, where, why?