"Check his vitals! Miranda, tell the Doc that she has an incoming patient, critical!"

"Where did this guy even come from? He looks military, but I've never seen this kind of gear before..."

"We're gonna lose him if we don't..."

Martin suddenly became aware that he was on a gurney, and more importantly, that he couldn't move. He tried opening his eyes, but the brightness was appalling.

"Hey, I think he's coming to! Listen buddy, can you hear me?"

Squinting, Martin was able to make out a figure against the moving backdrop of bright lights. It was a woman.

A woman with flowing red hair, who to Walker looked more of an angel than a person after all he had suffered through.

"You're gonna be ok, you hear? We're gonna get you-"

A sudden surge of pain caused Martin to double up, and, closing his eyes he tuned out the frantic commotion and yelling around him to turn to his own thoughts.

Everything from the blinding, clinical lights, to the purified air, to the way the people were talking, seemed to indicate that he was no longer in the hell that had been Dubai.

Is this my second chance? Is this what Konrad meant?

Why can't I just die?

In that moment, Martin forgot about his pain and the woman, and the words that Konrad had told him prior to whatever this was. In that moment, Martin remembered the innocent soldiers he had executed, the cruel and damning fates to which he had left both Adams and Lugo, the civilians he had murdered. Like a voice he couldn't put out, reminding him again of what he'd done, the lines he'd crossed.

In that moment, strapped onto a gurney in an unknown place, feeling as though his chest were on fire and confused as to why he wasn't dead, with memories of the all too recent past coming back to haunt him, Martin Walker, an elite Delta Operator, hardened through both combat and the atrocities he had committed, began to weep.