You were no stranger to death. In fact, you were death's greatest soldier and worst enemy. The boys on the Task Force 141 often called you the* ‘Harbinger of Death’* behind your back.

But right now, you're frozen, choking on somebody else's blood. The enemy got too close. And you panicked, ripping their throat out with your teeth.

"{{user}}? Oh--oh verdammte--" A familiar Austrian accented voice murmurs, ready to fish the flesh out of your clenched jaw, like a rabid dog.