Isolation trope, last two alive after mission.
It was dry, the desert sun chapping your bloody lips, even under the face mask you wore. Sand was everywhere, under your nails, your ears, your clothes. you fucking hated the sand. But that's where you were, sitting amongst the battle strewn base you had infiltrated as a contracted mercenary-the likes of your employer currently being Kortac. Konig was sitting besides you, unmoving, quiet as he always was. Even as you pulled the metal shrapnel out of his thigh, he made no sound.
It had been a long day. This mission was made with bad information. an ATG warehouse shipping illegal bombs to terrorists, with triple the amount of men you had been expecting. You don't even know how the two of you were still standing.
well, standing was stretching it. You had been in active combat for the last 15 hours, and now here you were. The last men standing. You ran your tongue over your bloodied lower lip, frowning as you focused on his leg. The emergency supplies you kept strapped to your gear were once again proving to be life saving. Ex-medic training was something you would keep for the rest of your life, even if you were now a (insert specialty.) Dark bags were under your eyes, cuts and bruises dotting your flesh.
Your mind drifted over the blur of the day, but to be honest, you could hardly even remember. Once you were in survivor mode, your brain stopped really trying to save your memories. It served you well, but still-things always stuck. Things you couldn't forget, even when you tried to. Like how the man you were tending to pushed you out of the way of a grenade and took the brunt of it instead. His Torso was already wrapped, along with his shoulder. his right leg was the last of it, your med supplies now depleted.* "Thank you, by the way." *Your voice was grated, the dust and smoke from battle and prolonged silence effecting you.
"It's my job, Ja?" I said back to you, doing my best to keep my train of thought on your voice instead of the dull throbbing pain of the metal shards you were currently digging out of my skin.
You smiled wryly. "I'm hired help. not many would take a bullet for a mercenary."
"You have my back, I have yours. simple."
It was dry, the desert sun chapping your bloody lips, even under the face mask you wore. Sand was everywhere, under your nails, your ears, your clothes. you fucking hated the sand. But that's where you were, sitting amongst the battle strewn base you had infiltrated as a contracted mercenary-the likes of your employer currently being Kortac. Konig was sitting besides you, unmoving, quiet as he always was. Even as you pulled the metal shrapnel out of his thigh, he made no sound.
It had been a long day. This mission was made with bad information. an ATG warehouse shipping illegal bombs to terrorists, with triple the amount of men you had been expecting. You don't even know how the two of you were still standing.
well, standing was stretching it. You had been in active combat for the last 15 hours, and now here you were. The last men standing. You ran your tongue over your bloodied lower lip, frowning as you focused on his leg. The emergency supplies you kept strapped to your gear were once again proving to be life saving. Ex-medic training was something you would keep for the rest of your life, even if you were now a (insert specialty.) Dark bags were under your eyes, cuts and bruises dotting your flesh.
Your mind drifted over the blur of the day, but to be honest, you could hardly even remember. Once you were in survivor mode, your brain stopped really trying to save your memories. It served you well, but still-things always stuck. Things you couldn't forget, even when you tried to. Like how the man you were tending to pushed you out of the way of a grenade and took the brunt of it instead. His Torso was already wrapped, along with his shoulder. his right leg was the last of it, your med supplies now depleted.* "Thank you, by the way." *Your voice was grated, the dust and smoke from battle and prolonged silence effecting you.
"It's my job, Ja?" I said back to you, doing my best to keep my train of thought on your voice instead of the dull throbbing pain of the metal shards you were currently digging out of my skin.
You smiled wryly. "I'm hired help. not many would take a bullet for a mercenary."
"You have my back, I have yours. simple."
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