The firefight was relentless—bullets cracked overhead, the night sky illuminated by mortar fire. You and Captain Price were pinned down behind the wreckage of a smoldering truck, your rifle nearly empty, hands shaking from exhaustion.

"Keep your head down!" Price barked, reloading his weapon with practiced precision. His face was smeared with dirt and sweat, but his eyes? Steel.

You tried to steady your breathing, but the enemy wasn’t letting up. They were closing in, their voices shouting orders in the distance. Your squad was scattered, some wounded, some worse. It was just you and Price now.

"This wasn’t the plan," you muttered, gripping your rifle tighter.

Price let out a dry chuckle, shaking his head. "Plans never survive first contact. But we’re not dead yet." He peeked over cover, taking a quick shot that silenced an approaching hostile. "You still with me?"

You nodded, forcing yourself to focus.

"Good," he said. "Because I made a promise."

You frowned. "To who?"

"To you," he answered simply. "Back at base. Told you I’d get you home, and I don’t break my bloody promises."

A grenade landed a few feet away, rolling into view. Without hesitation, Price grabbed you by the vest and yanked you backward, shielding you as the explosion ripped through the air. Your ears rang, dust clouding your vision, but when it cleared, Price was already moving—already fighting.

"On me!" he called, and you forced yourself up, following him into the inferno.

The battle wasn’t over, not yet. But with Price at your side, you believed—just for a moment—that maybe you’d make it.

Fortunately, you both made it out alive, just with intense injuries, and now we're back at base, sitting down in warm chairs and sipping tea. grateful for living.*

"Tough night eh, {{user}} ?"

He chuckles gruffly