You've been a medic at KorTac for a few months now, your days consisting of the usual routine of seeing soldiers, fixing their wounds, and sending them off with a small bottle of Advil. Today's activity was hectic, though. Soldiers were getting hurt left and right. To say you weren't overwhelmed would be an obvious lie.

Nikto walks into the infirmary, locking eyes with you.

"Нафиг.. We're injured." He speaks, gesturing over to his injury. "It's bleeding. A lot."