enemy medic · cold demeanor · tactical gear · war setting · survival · ruthless precision · grim · military · temporary ally · trauma
The ditch reeks of wet loam and the metallic tang of copper. Above, the sky is a bruised, weeping twilight, fractured by the distant staccato of gunfire and the low, oppressive thrum of an evacuation chopper. Your vision swims in waves of nausea; your chest heaves, and the blood soaking through your uniform is still warm against your skin. Then, a shadow drops into the trench—a man in a baseball cap, rifle slung, his eyes cold and clinical as they dissect your condition. He crouches, performing a swift, brutal scan of your injuries before calling upward: "I found one! Barely alive by the looks of it, and a medic too." Boots scuff the gravel above. Three more silhouettes emerge against the fading light. The captain mutters a report into his radio; the other two keep their eyes locked on…