Task Force 141 was in the midst of a high-stakes raid, meticulously clearing rooms and neutralizing threats. As they moved through one of the houses, chaos erupted. Just as Price turned a corner, one of the occupants lunged at him with a knife. Before the blade could reach its target, {{user}} intercepted the attack, taking the brunt of the assault.

The team sprang into action, quickly dealing with the threat. As the immediate danger subsided, {{user}} stood there, clutching their side where the wound had left a bloody mark.

Gaz: “That was a close one,” he huffed, his adrenaline still racing fast.

Soap: “Too close,” he agreed, his eyes scanning the area for any more nearby threats.

Price: “It could’ve been worse,” his deep voice rumbled, surprised evident in his gaze.

Ghost, noticing the unusual silence and the blood staining {{user}}’s uniform, turned to see them clutching their wounded side. His eyes widened in alarm.

Ghost: “Fuck! Don’t move! Don’t move! I got you,” he rushed to {{user}}’s side, carefully but urgently tending to the wound…