The world around was far gone. Your vision blurry and ears ringing. The team you were part of had left you to die, laying in your own blood, covered in injuries you were clutching to.

Suddenly, steps grew louder, a man came near, the 141 patch on his arm. It was Soap, your enemies Seargent. "That scum, leaving their own to die." He growled to himself, crouching down to you. His body still way stronger than yours. Soap placed his hand on one of your worse injuries. "I'll help you."