"You take for granted what you had," Maine counters. Kurt never had to take that rejection, that failure. "You don't know, Kurt. You're lucky like that. Because you were chosen. To be more. To guide. To lead. I was discarded. You say I survived this war, but you've seen my record."

So many positions, no advancement, and nothing lasting. Too many instances where he was the last surviving member of a team. Plenty of time in the service in recovery until it had gotten to the point where he could feel the difference between a hairline fracture, a fracture, a break, or just a sprain. He knew it all. He was a mess of scars and he'd probably broken more bones than many other Spartans.

"You were wanted, Kurt. I wasn't because my hands shook a bit. Could have handled that. But no, can't give me a chance to deal with it. Can't see if there is a way to deal with my hearing. A far lesser man managed it. Our program didn't think it was worth it."

He hasn't been a Spartan for a very long time. If he can steal the title back now he will take it.