Classroom Of The Elite x Oc

Year 2 Prologue 2

[--------]'s Pov

There is gunfire echoing in the night and explosions crisscrossing the darkness, blood running through the grass and screaming encapsulates me. All around me I see people dying, friend and foes bathing in each other's blood and crying from the same pain.

All the sudden I hear a loud sound and everything starts spinning, my vision blurring to an extent I could no longer focus on anything.

After a few seconds of stunned confusion I felt something on the right side of my chest, as I reached my hand down I felt the warm blood flowing down my pitch-black combat uniform.

While I looked down at myself dumbfoundedly I was quickly jerked away as someone in my squad picked me up and I was soon being carried away from the action.

And I, the pride of the British covert agencies was relegated to no more than a sack of potatoes as I was pulled away from the fighting.

As sleep started to overtake my vision all the sudden everything went black.

All of the sudden I jolted upright, breathing extremely heavily, overed in sweat head to toe, my pajamas sticking to me as if they were glued to me.

It seems I dreamt of that night again, as if the lung it cost me or my extensive knee damage wasn't enough of a reminder.

As I got up I looked at myself in the mirror, I look terrible, I look like a mess. As a lady I find myself in a state that is inexcusable.

Like that I started my day like always, a nice shower before getting dressed and preparing to go to work. I had an average English breakfast made sure I looked proper before leaving my London townhouse and making my way to my Aston Martin Vantage Roadster F1 Edition and starting my journey to my place of work.

After a long commute I arrived at the rather simple looking office building I have been working in for years, after parking I took my beautiful mahogany cane that featured a beautiful carved handle with a lion's head and subtle gold inlay. Since that day years ago I can no longer walk more than a few dozen feet by myself unassisted, only having one lung and a damaged knee makes my day-to-day life much harder.

As I thought of my injury as I made my way to the front desk I started breathing more heavily, the more I thought of it the more raw emotion I felt, as my anger continued to build I arrived at a state of insatiable fury and indignation.

I was supposed to be the best, the pride of the agency, and on my first serious mission I was permanently and irredeemably damaged.

The target of my furry without anywhere else to go was focused on myself, how could I be so stupid and careless, seeing my first serious combat distracted me and I let my guard down. Instead of the professional I was meant to be I acted like an amateur, thinking about my own incompetency lead me to putting as much force as I could into my steps, my knuckles holding my cane turning white under my indignation.

To the people around me though, this was not visible, only if someone looked into my deep blue eyes would they be able to see my fierceness. I would not dare to sully my name and image any more than I have already, as a lady and a member of a wealthy family I have to act appropriately.

As I passed the security checkpoints like every day I kept my same smile on my face, some may say I looked beautiful or fetching, but  that is irrelevant to me.

As I made my way to my office I sat down and began my daily mission of doing paperwork, relegated to an office worker due to my serious injuries.

My job title still says I can be called for an active mission, but that is most likely nothing but pity for me, the higher ups must have seen me all but beg to be given another chance.