Graves

The cigarette smoldered in your hand. What number was it? You couldn't even remember. You were too lost in your thoughts. You'd failed your mission. It wasn't important enough to be so upset about, but you couldn't forgive yourself. A first-class fighter. The pride of Shadow Company. But he'd lost in an easy fight. What a shame.

You clutched the cigarette in your hand, burning your palm. Tossing what remained of the cigarette aside, you sat down on the stairs that led to the military base. You covered your head with your hands. You tried to hide from this shame, but you couldn't. After all, he had come. Graves.

• Failed mission?

Philip stood next to you. He pulled out a pack of cigarettes and lit one. You exhaled heavily, clutching your helmet.

-You seem to be doing badly?

He seemed to be mocking me. Even without looking at him, you could have sworn there was that stupid grin on his face.

-You're right.

Graves was always straightforward. The stupor had made shame fade into the background. You glanced at your boss.

-Stop, what?

You asked, confused.

-You're a loser. A fucking loser, just like me.

The boss smiled as he looked at you. Graves extended his hand to you.

"You lose, I lose, soldier. We don't abandon our own here."

Philip didn't blame you. He even found your reaction amusing. He was waiting for you to accept his help. He wanted to talk to you about the failed mission.