So hello again! Another story from me. I hope you enjoy this, it's a Pitch Perfect AU (alternate universe) set in today's world, in Britain, cos that's where I'm from! With Beca and Chloe, because who doesn't love Bechloe? Be warned, it may be slightly upsetting and if I get enough feedback, I'll do a sequel but that will have to be rated M because it will have topics that may be upsetting for some readers, sorry. But please review, any kind of feedback is appreciated :) enjoy!

Chapter 1

"Man down, man down! Medic!"

The cries of battle reached Lance Corporal Beca Mitchell's ears as she rushed around, semi-automatic assault rifle in one hand, major injury pack in the other, darting from cover to cover to reach the wounded man and his friend who was calling for her, the medic. She was running on adrenaline and only had one thing in mind, to get to the wounded man before he bled out without getting herself shot either.

"Covering fire!" She yelled and all the weapons behind her turned above her head and shot straight at their enemy as she bolted out from cover and reached the man who was writhing on the floor. His entire lower leg was missing. But it wasn't anything she hadn't dealt with before and got to work, first finding the major bleeds and stopping them by applying ligatures and plenty of pressure then quickly dressing and bandaging the wound and then radio contacting the pick up helicopter. She helped carry the man to safety with his friend away from the fire and set him down.

The helicopter arrived just minutes later and the man was on board and flying away from the area. Beca turned back to the battle and dove into the fray, shooting at any enemy she saw. Whether it be through a window or straight ahead.

The man beside her fell and as she turned to check on him the familiar stain of red was already seeping across his chest. She could do nothing, she knew that already. She just ducked down and held his head as he drew his final breaths and said his last words "My pocket. Letter. For my wife." Beca pulled out the letter for his wife and family that everyone had in case they didn't make it home and stuffed it in her own pocket. She pulled off his identity tags and looked back up to see other soldiers of the British Army coming back toward her. The firing had stopped and they were withdrawing back to camp. 15 minutes defined the day. And it hadn't been a good one for Beca Mitchell. She was tired. Tired from the exhausting drills and then the patrol. Tired from the firefight she'd been in and tired of having men dying in her arms because she couldn't do anything. Tired of watching them bleed out or having a direct hit to the heart. She was tired of the army full stop.

She got back to camp, debreifed with the Colonel and got the long awaited shower she needed. God dammit she needed to cry. "Hold it together Mitchell" she scalded herself and dried herself off and made her way to the mess tent in her doss clothes. She ordered her food at the serving hatch, received it and turned to go and sit down but walked into what she briefly saw was a young woman with the insignia of a Captain on her shoulder before knocking both their trays to the ground. She stared down at the food and then back up at the young woman, suddenly realising herself and gave a rapid salute and a whispered "Ma'am. My apologies ma'am." Before rushing out of the mess tent, with tears in her eyes. She made it outside the tent and round the corner before bursting into tears. The Captain who she'd walked into was hot on her heels to see what was wrong with her. She rounded the corner and saw her sobbing there. She quickly strode up to her, what she now recognised as a Lance Corporal, placed a hand on her shoulder and said in the tenderest voice Beca had ever heard "What's wrong?"

Beca looked up, tears still streaming down her face and said in a rather monotonous voice "I'm just so tired"

It was at this point the Captain saw that she was a medic and understood exactly what she meant.

"Come here" she whispered and opened her arms and she fell into them and allowed herself to be held by a woman she'd never met before. Once her crying had subsided, she pushed away from her and said "Sorry about that ma'am"

"Don't worry about it, I understand," she replied, "what's your name anyway?" She asked.

"Lance Corporal Beca Mitchell ma'am" she replied.

"Don't call me ma'am, Beca. We're friends aren't we?" She countered and she chuckled, nodding.

"Sorry, what should I call you then?" She asked.

"Chloe. Chloe Beale."

To be continued...