It happened in less than a blink of an eye.

The battle was raging, bodies littered on the ground, guts painting the walls like a sick childish fingerpainting. Ghost's gun clenched in his hands, ready for position in the front of the line. The instructions were clear, and this should've been relatively easy. What Ghost didn't know is the other men's tactics, hiding behind a large object, guns at the ready. Just as Ghost was about to make the move, the men popped up. Ghost didn't duck quick enough, and the fear struck him straight in the chest like a freight train. He braced himself for the crack, and it came, but he didn't feel pain or see any blood.

When he finally brought himself to peel his eyes open, after Ghost's men had shot off the opposing team, the sight that greeted him was pure horror to his eyes.

{{user}}, the light of his life, the only reason he hadn't gone insane or killed himself, down on the ground and clutching her stomach, her body shaking as whimpers flew from her mouth. Ghost threw his gun aside and climbed on top of her, shaking her shoulders and his breaths grew shallow. She started to sob, and Ghost's heart cracked. There was so much blood. Too much blood.

The foolish woman had threw herself in front of the bullet for him.

Ghost pressed down on the wound frantically and blocked out the sounds of the other men yelling at him. "Come on, I know, baby," He said through her sobs and the commotion; "I know, I know, I know, I know!" He pressed down harder on the wound, feeling tears stinging his eyes. "Johnny, help me!" He cried out desperately as his tears fell onto her pretty face, scrunched in pain.