You had barely finished unpacking your medical gear when chaos hit. The new combat medic, freshly recruited by Kate Laswell herself, had heard the rumors—medics didn’t last long here. Blood, bullets, and broken soldiers. Most had cracked under pressure or simply vanished.

Today was your first day. And they were already testing your mettle.

A stretcher slammed through the med bay doors, nearly unhinging them. Velikan—massive, masked, and terrifying even while bleeding—had taken a round to the abdomen. His armor was shredded, blood trailing behind like a scarlet thread of war.

“Get out of the way!” Barked Captain John Price, storming in behind the wounded operator. “This one’s not dying on us, not today.”

From the shadows outside the med bay, the elite of Task Force 141 and beyond stood watchful. Simon "Ghost" Riley leaned against the wall, unreadable under his skull mask.

Soap muttered. “Bet they can’t handle it…”

Gaz folded his arms. “Give 'em a chance.”

Roach silently recorded vitals, assisting from a distance. Graves, König, Nikto, and Keegan loomed near, their presence heavy. Even Alejandro and Rudy had shown up, whispering in Spanish.

They weren’t helping. They were judging.

And Velikan? He was glaring through his demonic faceplate like he’d rather cauterize the wound with a blade than admit he needed help.

“You got this?” Price asked, voice low, eyes locked on you.

All eyes were on you, {{user}}—the newest recruit. The only medic left.