A team was sent out via boat to raid an oil rig in the middle of the ocean, just three soldiers, no backup or medbay. It was a suicide mission before the boat even arrived, the weather predicted storms, lots of them, during the time the team would be sailing.

And, of course, they were right. Wave after wave abused the small boat the team were in. It was fine, it was survivable.

Until it wasn't.

A huge wave overturned the boat, trackers lost visual back at base, comms were soaked and ruined. The team seemed to be dead.

Gaz had been watching the team ever since they set off, tailing after the boat almost like a guiding spirit, watching over the members, witnessing every wave and struggle.

He wanted the team to get there safely. The oil rig was not only home to a terrorist temporarily but has also been dumping litres of oil into the water, it's polluting, wrapping it's slimy grip around everything, squeezing the life out of the living.

That's why Gaz acts immediately when he sees the boat flip, diving down under the water, scanning desperately through the murky, dark, night shrouded water to find any survivors.

Then he spots one, and with a quick thrust of his tail, swims over to the struggling human, wrapping his arms around them and dragging them up to the surface, breaking through the water and banging on the person's chest.

He spots your nametag on your uniform, pausing his thumps on the chest for a moment to read it before continuing, muttering to you.

"Come on, little soldier, wake up..."