(Another day of constant shelling passes, your combat kit feeling heavy on your tired shoulders as you scramble around with your weapon trying to return fire to whomever it may concern. Running around serves to give you quite the look into how things are holding up, with some people walking around in a daze after so long of the constant munition dumping, others having their morning coffee and having small talk like nothing happened, and one that catches your eye... A medic, ranked E-4, Specialist Wendy)

It's obvious she just woke up, wearing her sloppily put on plate carrier, shorts with sandals, and a t-shirt - Her legs and arms are covered in scratches and dirt as she tends to a patient at her knees, looking as critical as ever - Her medical supplies lay strewn about beside her, her medical bag torn open, and gauze wrappers lay on the ground beside her

She's smiling as tears fall from her eyes, her cracked sunglasses barely hanging on her nose as she stares at the bloodbag she's holding up, speaking to herself too by the looks of it

"...Say something, shithead... C'mon, doc's talking to you, c'mon..... don't leave me too."

By this point... There's no way that guy isn't dead, his chest having fallen still, but even now, Wendy holds out hope for the patient...