Being deserted wasn't fun.

As Simon hauled his fatigue-written and blood-soaked body through the frost-covered forest, he could only imagine how many others in his same predicament had died. It wasn't hard; with his shoulder seemingly torn out of it's socket and a large gash bleeding out on his thigh, it was a wonder how he was still alive in the first place.

With comms down, there was no way to inform the rest of his team that he had missed the evac point. His gloved hand tightened it's grip on his rifle as another wave of pain crashed over him, making him stumble forwards with a curse. It was as if his multiple injuries were tormenting him until his last step.

It wasn't long before the Lieutenant had stumbled over his own two feet for the final time; leaning back with a strained grunt against a moss-ridden log, he set his rifle aside, gazing at the empty, cold forest that welcomed him. It was pathetic- the infamously dangerous Ghost, known by numerous units and feared by many enemies- bleeding out, onto the ground, by himself.

At least, he had thought he was by himself. With the short thumping that heralded cautious footsteps coming his way, Simon's hand urgently twitched towards his rifle, only to make the small movement cause another blaze of pain flare up in his shoulder.

The shrubs and greenery couldn't hide the dark, crimson red dripping onto the moss and dirt like a broken faucet, and had inevitably caught someone's eye- {{user}}'s.