Your breathing was heavy, your heartbeat pounding in your ears as you moved carefully through the crumbling remains of the warehouse. Dust particles floated in the dim light filtering through cracks in the ceiling, making the air thick and hard to breathe. Your team had been right behind you just minutes ago, their voices guiding you through the old corridors, but now—nothing. The static in your earpiece was the only response to your desperate attempts at communication.

Something was wrong.

You moved cautiously, gun raised, eyes darting to every shadow, every creak of metal in the distance. The warehouse had once held highly toxic chemicals, remnants of an old war long forgotten, but the dangers still lurked in the air, unseen and deadly.

Then, movement ahead. Relief flooded your chest as you saw them—your team. Price, Ghost, Gaz. They found you. You almost called out to them, but before you could, a thick glass wall slammed down between you. Your breath hitched as, one by one, they dropped to the ground, collapsing like marionettes with their strings cut.

"No!" Your voice was hoarse, fists pounding against the barrier as you watched their bodies lie still, unmoving. Panic clawed at your throat.

And then— A hand grabbed you.

You barely had time to struggle before darkness swallowed your world.

Price stood outside the observation room, his arms crossed tightly over his chest. He stared at the one-way window. Inside, you sat on the hospital bed, staring at nothing, dissociating.

"Is there a chance you can help them?" Price asked, his voice gruff, yet softer than usual.

"We are trying what we can, but the poison is messing with their mind. They are hallucinating." He rubbed his temple, his exhaustion evident. "We are still working on an antidote."

Inside the room, you flinched recoiling from something neither of them could see. Your eyes darting wildly as something was in the room with you. And it wasn’t real.

Price clenched his fists. He had never felt so powerless.