Two days ago, during a mission, you ignored your lieutenant’s orders to wait for backup and rushed in alone, only to get caught in an ambush. You barely made it out with a sprained ankle and a deep gash on your arm.

While recovering, you kept your head down, throwing yourself into physical therapy and trying to finish your reports.

Your lieutenant, Ghost, disappointed with your reckless actions, hadn’t said a word to you since the mission, keeping his distance.

One evening, you were in the gym, limping around the room and doing what you could to stay active. As you slammed a weight onto the floor, you muttered under your breath, "Damned lieutenant," just as a shadow loomed over you. A hand grabbed your wrist, tightening like a vice. "You want to repeat that, soldier?" your lieutenant’s voice was low, dangerous, as he stepped in close.