This is a remake of my other story, It's Just a Cold. Now this story has the same atmosphere as I intended for that story, but a totally different outlook. Thinking about where this idea came from was just out of the blue.

I may have slow updates because I gave myself 2nd degree burns on my left hand fingertips, by being a nice sister and cleaning up her mess. She left the freaking stovetop on low and so the pan sat on the flame for 2 hours. Not the best experience of my life. Moral of the story: Don't be nice.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. But if I did – shit would happen.

Warnings (for all chapters): Bad language and mild graphic scenes.

Read well!

Needles.

He hated them with a passion, a very panicky, petrified passion. You could say he was acting like a pussy, but the fact that a pointy object would come at you with unknown chemicals and at an unknown speed, was quite frightening.

Sure the guys would pick on him for being scared about a simple needle. And sure they would tease him from time to time by chasing him around their base with a needle in their hands. And on some days when he was in the infirmary, they would laugh as he struggled away from the doctor who (might he add) had an evil glint in his eye as he would approach him with that sharp, hazardous, unnerving, evil villain object.

But he was just human, why shouldn't he have fear of a simple needle. He was just like Ghost who was afraid of clowns, and Archer who didn't like spiders. So why was he picked on for not liking an object that normal people would ignore with a simple wave of the hand?

The fact that an object holding unknown chemicals pierced his skin on the mission, didn't really help out with his fear. But of course, this big bad bug had to stand up to his fear one day.

He just didn't wish it was that day.

"Get down!" A voice crashed over the radio. Roach, having nothing else to do, complied with the demanded and dove for the closest cover. Dust and rocks met his awaiting form and sprang into the air as he slid for his imaginary home plate. Waiting for the dust to settle, Roach reloaded his riffle with a huff.

"Roach?" Meat's voice clicked over the radio, "Where the hell are you?"

"About 3 clicks away from your position."

"Why the bloody 'ell are you over there?" Ghost demanded crossly.

"Uh…?" Roach winced slightly as a bullet grassed past his head. Before sinking lower into his cover position, Roach rose faintly and took down 2 enemies. "Got lost," He added sheepishly.

"How can you do that?" Meat mumbled.

Ghost's question demanded attention, "Archer? Can you see Roach?"

"He's in my line of sight," the sniper replied.

"Good bring him back to us, and then quickly pack up and get to the LZ point."

Beyond the conversation, Roach puffed out his lower lip as he almost hugged his riffle in a childish way. "I can take care of myself," Roach murmured more to himself then anyone in particular.

"Yes, but you're the one who got lost." Archer answered back.

"It's not fully my fault," Roach believed, "Ghost and Meat were being too stealthy."

"And that's their fault, how?" Archer puffed out a lung full of air, "Alright kid, take a right."

Roach slid in and out of covers, trying his best to run past his enemies. But when the enemy would sight him, either Roach or Archer would take them down with a flow of dark crimson as the body fell to the surface.

"If you take the alleyway on your left, you can make it to Ghost's and Meat's position, but that's out of my line of sight, so be careful. Archer out," The click of the communication broke and a dull high pitched buzz filled Roach's ears. Taking out his pistol for a close combat situation, Roach slowly entered the alleyway and jogged down the tight area before making it to the other side. Spotting his two other teammates, Roach smirked with glee and started his approach. But, suddenly, a cry from behind jolted him and forced the bug to turn around, pistol raised.

This man, no older than twenty ran at him, arm upstretched and hand clenched around an object that stopped Roach in his tracks. The world froze. His heart pounded in his ears, the pulse transferring out to his hands. His vision shook. The sweat that danced down his face became unbearable and poked at his nerves. His stomach churned and then suddenly the man was face to face with Roach, a smile dancing wildly at the corners of his lips. And the object – the fucking object was smashed against his neck and the needle was deep inside his flesh, cutting past his skin and muscles ripping into his carotid artery. The man laughed senselessly and backed away from the soldier slowly and then ran.

Roach dropped his pistol without thought and as adrenaline pumped through his veins so did the liquid that began to burn near his neck. Reaching up without thought, Roach shoved the needle out of his neck and threw it on the ground. Glass shattered and the needle bounced away from the soldier. Roach backed up slowly, his hand resting on his neck where the needle had been moments ago.

Fear still remained.

He should tell his team. Yes, that idea crossed his mind many times as he staggered his way back towards the people he knew. But as he approached them his legs began to weigh more, the feeling of cement blocks falling on to his shoulders became agonizing, and his arms became led. As if he hadn't slept in days, a wave of unconsciousness crashed over him.

Ghost waited impatiently, his foot tapping on the ground pointing out that he was on the verge of a scream. "Where the 'ell is that bug?"

"Probably got lot again," Meat replied, picking at his fingernails with his pocket knife.

Suddenly, as if their prayers had been answered, Roach approached.

"Finally," Ghost babbled, "C'mon bug, let's get going." Ghost gave a glance at Roach before turning around and marching forward. But something picked at his mind. Meat behind him, began to whisper towards the other soldier, and as Ghost turned around. His heart stopped.

Roach staggered, his form looking dangerously unhealthy, his face looking a green and mouth hanging slightly open as if trying to take in more air. Suddenly the he staggered, his feet underneath him stumbled, and his form swayed back and forth. Before –

"O-Oi, Roa-"

The world slowed, and Roach pitched forward and crumpled to the ground with a soft thud that was much louder than it should have been. And the world stopped.

"Roach!"

So if you could, review? I'm one of those authors who don't update unless I get reviews. They are my drug and most authors understand when I say I LOVE REVIEWS! So, if you would be so kind and review, it's the best thing to do. :)

I honestly don't know how long this will be, and I have a few things down in my head but not the whole story outlined like I do most of the time.

Also to warn those who read, It's Just a Cold, this story may end out the way that one did. But I can't promise, I guess it's the way I will feel what this story deserves most. Hopefully you guys know that I'm author that takes risks and hopes for the best!

Anyway, thanks so much for reading and we will see when the next update happens.

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