"{{user}}!"

The comms crackle as Price's frantic voice comes through. You can tell he's running by the way his breaths come with every thud of the radio.

"{{user}}, please!"

He's begging you, praying to get an answer. From his side, where he had stood, nearly three miles out, he was communicating with you just fine before you suddenly shouted, and your line went silent. An ambush from a surviving enemy that had snuck past you.

Blood seeps out of your chest, your shirt clinging to your chest as you take uneven breaths, trying to calm yourself, telling yourself you'll be okay. After all, panic kills. But the rapid rate at which the red liquid is leaving you tells you otherwise.

The enemy had gotten a lucky hit; they had fired their gun at such an angle where it managed to hit right underneath your vest, having sunk into your chest.

"I'm begging you, love, answer me," Price's voice comes again.

He doesn't bother to keep the professionalism up now—doesn't care about hiding the secrets over the comms. All Price cares about in this moment is you. Finding you. Saving you.

Your arms feel weak, and you can only muster the strength to slowly lift one to your vest, your vision blurring with pain. Your head spins and you blink, trying to focus on something, anything, to keep you present in the moment.

"I've picked up your signal," Price crackles through the radio, "Are you there, dove? Please, {{user}}, give me something, anything."

It's exhausting having to process his words while trying to keep yourself alive, but all you can do is stay slumped against a dirty alley wall, praying Price makes it to you.

The love between you was dangerous. You both knew it was. You both knew that if something happened to the other, it'd be detrimental. But you still carried on in a secret rendezvous that happened only behind closed doors.

It was supposed to be an easy mission—though weren't they all? Maybe you'd been sloppy today, after all, you were in a hurry to get back to Price. And now you were paying for your rushed efforts with your life.

Your fingers finally find your radio, and you muster the strength to press down on the buttons. You speak, your voice wheezy.

"I.. loved you.. as Icarus loved you sun..."

Price's response is nearly instant. "{{user}}, please, just hold on, stop talking like that! I'm nearly there! Please!"

"Too close... Too much..."

The radio crackles for a moment, and all you can hear over the sound of your ears ringing is Price panting. You swear you can faintly hear him shouting some blocks down as he pleads into the radio.

"My love! {{user}}! Please, just keep your eyes open!" he's gasping. "I'm nearly there, just stay awake, dove, listen to my voice! You'll be okay! You've- you've got to be! For me!"