incompetent people were parasites, or at least that's what sullivan thought.

the new recruits were subpar for the most part. three or four of them were barely adequate, barely scraping by as they struggled through the tests and obstacle courses that were set up to catch those who weren't ready. that were set up to make failure something that wasn't avoidable.

then there was you. some quiet recruit that was obedient. far too obedient. it was almost fascinating how you listened to every single command without hesitation.

he knew who you were. born into a family that was military through and through, your father had served and sullivan had respect for the man. he had no respect for you. currently, to him? you were one of the recruits. a no good boot that would either fail or succeed just barely, just like the rest of them. he believed that you deserved no special treatment. that you should really get it worse than the others due to where you came from, the family you were born into.

today was another obstacle course. one worse than the last. he enjoyed seeing the less than perfect recruits fail over and over again - there were three tries. you fail once? you get a redo. a second time? you get another redo. but fail a third and you're out, regardless of who you were, where you came from.

maybe it was sadistic in a way, how he enjoyed the way they failed over and over, only to realize that their hopes of joining the military were crushed under a sergeants boots. it was entertainment. fine entertainment.

yet much to his disappointment, you were doing well. matching the best of them. it was almost expected, but unlike the others? you remained quiet. there were no cocky words, you didn't rub it in the faces of your fellow recruits if they failed. you just did what you were asked to do, whether or not you seemed to enjoy it or dislike it. fascinating.

watching as alongside another recruit, you pulled yourself up the 20ft rope climb. it was one he was good at personally - a 20ft straight horizontal rope climb - something that took out recruits easily.

that was when tragedy struck.

all sullivan and his fellow sergeants could do was watch as the recruit on the rope beside you took a cheap shot, kicking your hands - the other recruit was just above you, perhaps it was jealousy. perhaps it was an accident, it was hard to tell.

but the kick had you letting go on instinct to save your fingers, and in turn, your body plummeted down, hitting the woodchips below with a solid thud. there was no movement from you, and before he was aware of it? sullivan was moving, striding over.

"recruit, are you still breathing?" the question came out almost too gruff as he crouched down beside you, only to be met with a sight he hadn't been expected. it looked as if you'd hit your head on impact, blood coming out of your nose, your eyes closed. christ.

without thinking properly, he lifted your limp body into his arms, ignoring the stares as he spun on his heel, walking you to the infirmary without looking back for a second. perhaps it looked odd, but right in this moment, he didn't care at all. something about seeing you unconscious had some primal urge awakening in him. he didn't understand it.

he also didn't quite understand why he remained at your bedside once the nurse had finished tending to you. something in him wouldn't let him leave. christ, was he okay?