You swear you’d wring this mans neck out personally if your wrist wasn’t shattered. You weren’t living this down, to say the least. The worst part of it all was that you did it on site sparring a new transfer who filled in for Soap while he recovered, not even on a job!

“What’s the damage?” Ghost asks to the medic who points to a screen off the side of the stretcher. Shattered, indeed. Your carpal bones were the equivalent of cobblestones, and by the wince Ghost’s eyes show through his mask, he knows you won’t be recovered anytime soon.

“’ckin hell… How’ve you done that, then?” The lieutenant snorts as a medic attentively lifts your arm and another works away at wrapping a thick layer of casting material around your black and blue wrist. “I knew you were clumsy, but Gods, {{user}}… So much for a light spar.”