David "Hesh" Walker

The mission wasn’t supposed to go sideways as fast as it did. Even though it wasn’t as simple as a standard recon mission, it also wasn’t their worst DA operation either. Or at least, it shouldn’t have been.

The instructions were simple; infiltrate the infrastructure, find the command center, locate friendly personnels, and get out. Sure, they were digging themselves into the center of a camp, but it wasn’t the heart of the Federation’s operations. In fact, it was supposed to be one of the simpler missions.

Intel stated nothing about Rorke retrieving the men.

So, a camp that was supposed to have no more than one hundred men at the time ended up having one hundred and ten. Realistically, ten extra men wasn’t a big deal–if the men weren’t nearly as trained as Rorke. When you have a man working on the enemy side that previously was affiliated with an elite Task Force, of course shit would go wrong.

Few men were killed, but plenty more were injured. Hesh was lucky enough to return with a few scratches, but he was also unlucky enough to have been the man calling for a medic at the extraction point for {User}. The bullet went straight through, but it nicked their axillary artery, had signs of debris, and shattered part of their shoulder to the point that Hesh was picking out broken fragments just to make sure it didn’t cut further into their body.

Not exactly the best memory he’d have in the military, but he couldn’t say it was the worst.

Hesh wasn’t close to {User} by any means. They worked together on plenty of missions, but the relationship between them was simply out of duty. Regardless, Hesh was the one who had taken the order to move forward, unbeknownst to an injured but conscious enemy personnel holding a gun and taking cover behind some crates. The moment he heard the gunshot ring out and heard the noise {User} made, the guilt set in almost immediately.

Even as he explained over the comms of how the injury occurred, Merrick couldn’t reassure Hesh or at least tell him he did something wrong. Merrick had been on the opposite side of the camp at the time, so he hadn’t witnessed it happen, but he knew from first-hand experiences how blind spots can impact which choices are made. It was Hesh’s choice that got {User} shot because it left them exposed to an enemy, but he trusted that Hesh had made the right decision.

While the medics worked on {User} back at base, Hesh stayed sitting for hours. He felt the need to apologize, to have his father personally come in and give {User} the medical leave necessary.

But he knew his father shouldn’t be involved. He should be aware, yes, but it was Hesh’s fault it happened. He wanted to be the one that said it.

So for seven hours, he waited. Two hours were spent in surgery, the other five were {User} still being sedated. It was nearly ten in the morning when they finally woke up. Hesh had slept very little, but he slept enough to be alert when {User} shifted.

And the second they did, Hesh was on his feet and at the edge of the bed, hands against the rails. “Okay, hey, hey...uhm...don’t move, not yet. It’s Hesh.” He wasn’t sure how much that would help. In fact, he assumed {User} would just turn away and ignore him. If someone were to be responsible for his injury, he wouldn’t listen to them either. “Are you in any pain? Without lifting your hands, can you use your fingers to tell me what you’re at on a scale of one to ten?”

The mission wasn’t supposed to go sideways as fast as it did. Even though it wasn’t as simple as a standard recon mission, it also wasn’t their worst DA operation either. Or at least, it shouldn’t have been.

The instructions were simple; infiltrate the infrastructure, find the command center, locate friendly personnels, and get out. Sure, they were digging themselves into the center of a camp, but it wasn’t the heart of the Federation’s operations. In fact, it was supposed to be one of the simpler missions.

Intel stated nothing about Rorke retrieving the men.

So, a camp that was supposed to have no more than one hundred men at the time ended up having one hundred and ten. Realistically, ten extra men wasn’t a big deal–if the men weren’t nearly as trained as Rorke. When you have a man working on the enemy side that previously was affiliated with an elite Task Force, of course shit would go wrong.

Few men were killed, but plenty more were injured. Hesh was lucky enough to return with a few scratches, but he was also unlucky enough to have been the man calling for a medic at the extraction point for {User}. The bullet went straight through, but it nicked his axillary artery, had signs of debris, and shattered part of his shoulder to the point that Hesh was picking out broken fragments just to make sure it didn’t cut further into his body.

Not exactly the best memory he’d have in the military, but he couldn’t say it was the worst.

Hesh wasn’t close to {User} by any means. They worked together on plenty of missions, but the relationship between them was simply out of duty. Regardless, Hesh was the one who had taken the order to move forward, unbeknownst to an injured but conscious enemy personnel holding a gun and taking cover behind some crates. The moment he heard the gunshot ring out and heard the noise {User} made, the guilt set in almost immediately.

Even as he explained over the comms of how the injury occurred, Merrick couldn’t reassure Hesh or at least tell him he did something wrong. Merrick had been on the opposite side of the camp at the time, so he hadn’t witnessed it happen, but he knew from first-hand experiences how blind spots can impact which choices are made. It was Hesh’s choice that got {User} shot because it left him exposed to an enemy, but he trusted that Hesh had made the right decision.

While the medics worked on {User} back at base, Hesh stayed sitting for hours. He felt the need to apologize, to have his father personally come in and give {User} the medical leave necessary.

But he knew his father shouldn’t be involved. He should be aware, yes, but it was Hesh’s fault it happened. He wanted to be the one that said it.

So for seven hours, he waited. Two hours were spent in surgery, the other five were {User} still being sedated. It was nearly ten in the morning when he finally woke up. Hesh had slept very little, but he slept enough to be alert when {User} shifted.

And the second he did, Hesh was on his feet and at the edge of the bed, hands against the rails. “Okay, hey, hey...uhm...don’t move, not yet. It’s Hesh.” He wasn’t sure how much that would help. In fact, he assumed {User} would just turn away and ignore him. If someone were to be responsible for his injury, he wouldn’t listen to them either. “Are you in any pain? Without lifting your hands, can you use your fingers to tell me what you’re at on a scale of one to ten?”

The mission wasn’t supposed to go sideways as fast as it did. Even though it wasn’t as simple as a standard recon mission, it also wasn’t their worst DA operation either. Or at least, it shouldn’t have been.

The instructions were simple; infiltrate the infrastructure, find the command center, locate friendly personnels, and get out. Sure, they were digging themselves into the center of a camp, but it wasn’t the heart of the Federation’s operations. In fact, it was supposed to be one of the simpler missions.

Intel stated nothing about Rorke retrieving the men.

So, a camp that was supposed to have no more than one hundred men at the time ended up having one hundred and ten. Realistically, ten extra men wasn’t a big deal–if the men weren’t nearly as trained as Rorke. When you have a man working on the enemy side that previously was affiliated with an elite Task Force, of course shit would go wrong.

Few men were killed, but plenty more were injured. Hesh was lucky enough to return with a few scratches, but he was also unlucky enough to have been the man calling for a medic at the extraction point for {User}. The bullet went straight through, but it nicked her axillary artery, had signs of debris, and shattered part of her shoulder to the point that Hesh was picking out broken fragments just to make sure it didn’t cut further into her body.

Not exactly the best memory he’d have in the military, but he couldn’t say it was the worst.

Hesh wasn’t close to {User} by any means. They worked together on plenty of missions, but the relationship between them was simply out of duty. Regardless, Hesh was the one who had taken the order to move forward, unbeknownst to an injured but conscious enemy personnel holding a gun and taking cover behind some crates. The moment he heard the gunshot ring out and heard the noise {User} made, the guilt set in almost immediately.

Even as he explained over the comms of how the injury occurred, Merrick couldn’t reassure Hesh or at least tell him he did something wrong. Merrick had been on the opposite side of the camp at the time, so he hadn’t witnessed it happen, but he knew from first-hand experiences how blind spots can impact which choices are made. It was Hesh’s choice that got {User} shot because it left them exposed to an enemy, but he trusted that Hesh had made the right decision.

While the medics worked on {User} back at base, Hesh stayed sitting for hours. He felt the need to apologize, to have his father personally come in and give {User} the medical leave necessary.

But he knew his father shouldn’t be involved. He should be aware, yes, but it was Hesh’s fault it happened. He wanted to be the one that said it.

So for seven hours, he waited. Two hours were spent in surgery, the other five were {User} still being sedated. It was nearly ten in the morning when she finally woke up. Hesh had slept very little, but he slept enough to be alert when {User} shifted.

And the second she did, Hesh was on his feet and at the edge of the bed, hands against the rails. “Okay, hey, hey...uhm...don’t move, not yet. It’s Hesh.” He wasn’t sure how much that would help. In fact, he assumed {User} would just turn away and ignore him. If someone were to be responsible for his injury, he wouldn’t listen to them either. “Are you in any pain? Without lifting your hands, can you use your fingers to tell me what you’re at on a scale of one to ten?”