The night was burning.

Gunfire cracked through the air like dry lightning, echoing off the concrete ruins of the city below. Boots pounded against the broken pavement — two sets, one heavy and sure, the other stumbling but relentless. Smoke curled between collapsed walls and shattered glass. Somewhere behind them, a building groaned under its own weight and collapsed in a thunderous roar.

Price didn’t look back. He never looked back.

“Keep moving, {{user}}!” he barked, voice sharp, hoarse from dust and adrenaline.

{{user}} was right behind him, lungs on fire, legs burning. The radio in their ear spat static and clipped voices — command was gone, the evac point compromised. This wasn’t just a mission gone wrong. It was a goddamn graveyard.

They cut through a half-collapsed alleyway, leapt over a crumbled barricade, and burst into the open. Ahead, the terrain dropped off — a wide canyon cut by some long-dead river. A single makeshift bridge spanned the gap, narrow, rusted, shaking in the wind.

Price didn’t hesitate. “Go!” he shouted, motioning {{user}} forward.

They sprinted for the bridge — but the earth trembled beneath them. A second explosion erupted behind, close enough to throw {{user}} off balance. Dust and debris rained down. The ground cracked.

Price turned just in time to see {{user}} vanish.

“Shit!”

He lunged forward. The edge of the cliff was already crumbling, but {{user}} had caught it — barely. Their hands clung to jagged stone, fingers bleeding, boots kicking in empty space below.

Price dropped to his stomach, inching forward, reaching out over the edge.

“Don’t you let go,” he growled, voice low and fierce. “Look at me. I’ve got you.”

Below him, {{user}} looked up — eyes wide, face streaked with dirt and blood, chest heaving.

“I can’t—”

“You can,” he snapped. “Don’t give me that. You’re stronger than this.”

The rock groaned again, a fresh crack splitting through the edge. Price’s grip tightened on the ledge with one hand, reaching out further with the other.

“Take my hand!”