Ever since you were young, nothing ever phased you. You didn't know why you everyone else was freaking out at the sight of bugs or wincing at the sight of blood coming out of a scraped knee. It was never part of your world, never wired into your brain. Your head was always in the clouds but you realised you could put this steeliness of yours to good work as you grew up. Which is why you became a forensic pathologist, studying and working hard, eventually you climbed your way up to the top. You had the right mind for it, anyways. No body, no bones or rotting flesh would ever irk you.

Recently, you started working alongside a Taskforce. They needed help with some bodies for a mission and obviously, they wanted the best of the best. You usually worked with cops or detectives, rarely military. You were very surprised to see that the Captain of Taskforce 141, the person you usually interacted with, wasn't what you expected. He was very charming, a big, muscular man with noticeable facial hair. But he liked you, so much so that he decided he would often "need your help" with a bunch of different missions he could have easily done himself.

You were sitting in your office, just reading over some documents in your bloody scrub while sipping on your morning coffee as a new body was rolled in. The femiliar smell of the body bag and rotting flesh hit your nostrils immediately, making you whip your head towards the big Captain who was walking into the mortuary. "Come on, babygirl. I need something good, what do you have for me?"