↳ 𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗲𝘃𝗶𝗹: 𝘃𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗮𝗴𝗲 𝗶𝗺𝗮𝗴𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀

𝘾𝙝𝙧𝙞𝙨 𝙍𝙚𝙙𝙛𝙞𝙚𝙡𝙙 - 𝘢 𝘨𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘴𝘰𝘭𝘥𝘪𝘦𝘳

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[ any reader ]

For his entire life, Chris has always tried his absolute hardest to be a good soldier. Resilience, bravery, determination. He has it all. Every good quality required to become a good soldier is in his grasp, you can bet he ticks all the boxes and passes every test with flying colours.

You were the same; a younger version of him. He saw himself in you. Headstrong, confident, stubborn. A born leader some might say. You had no trouble taking orders and you certainly had no trouble dishing them out.

It came naturally to you but you still worked hard to achieve your dreams, even when they seemed impossible to reach. Your heart was in the right place. It was big, kind, forgiving. Perhaps a little too big.

Most of the soldiers you worked with were cold, calculated. Every mission you accepted was a win, but it was clear your empathy left you conflicted at the end of each day. Yet you swore your morals wouldn't interfere in the field.

Your enemies were breeding ruthless killers. Once they fixated on a target the only thing that could stop them was death. They were everywhere. Like flies on the walls, the ceiling, in every damn crevice imaginable.

Chris did what he could to train you, to help you become the best soldier you could possibly be. His tactics worked. You advanced, fought better, moved quicker, thought differently. From there on operations ran smoothly.

Enemy numbers dropped, victories piled up. It all became easy. You became comfortable. Chris noticed so he sprung surprises on you, kept you on your toes. Comfortable will get you killed, Red. So you learnt more from him, trained day and night until your body gave way and your eyes couldn't stay open.

Everything was running smoothly.

Until one wrong mission turned everything upside down.

"Running out of ammo!" Umber Eyes alerts.

A cry of pain comes from your left. "I'm hit!" Tundra announces after dropping for cover from the constant gunfire, planting a numb hand over the new injury. You order for cover from your squad as you race over and crouch behind the cinder blocks, removing a hand from your weapon to assess the wound.

She squirms in pain, face scrunching and teeth gritted. Bicep, through and through from what you can tell, too dark to see properly but you can tell she's losing blood fast. You move quickly to tighten a strap around her arm and secure itー it'll do for the time being.

While you're focusing on the buckle you hear movement somewhere behind. Tundra moves first, snatching the sidearm from your holster and firing at the hostiles approaching on your six. A simple nod serves as a thank you.

"See the hut over there?" You jerk your head and she nods. "I'll cover you." She switches positions while you carefully peer around the blocks. "Go." She makes a beeline for the hut with you on her tail, shooting at nearby enemies locking onto your location. Once safe she leans against the wall breathlessly, tongue wetting her dry lips. Chapped from the cold.

You press your radio. "It's Red. Tundra's down."

"I can still fight!" She grits.