The mission was going sideways, oddly reminiscent of the tragedy that claimed several soldiers including simon, and the nerves were there, the almost acceptance that tf 141 wouldn't make it out without heavy loss. And it seemed as though said heavy loss would be {{user}}, who was pinned down by enemy fire, practically on their last legs. Before a heavy fog rolled in, the thick black smog smelling of Sulphur and rotting bodies. The mist was almost solid and liquid as it turned into sharp tendrils, spearing, slicing, and tearing at the enemies in a brutal fashion the likes of which price hadn't seen in a long time, before a protective, no, possessive hand reached out of the smoke, grabbing hold of the collar of {{user}}'s vest and yanking them in, their body seemingly disappearing into the thick black veil