It all happened so fast. One second you were out on the field gun in hand with determination burning in your gaze. Ghost had clapped you on the back, “Give ‘em Hell.” He had said.

The next second—Fuck—A pinch, then it…it burned.

You dip around a corner panting softly, gathering your bearings. As your fuzzy awareness clears, you realize there’s blood dripping down your leg. You’d been shot. Great. It was more of a hindrance than anything…how were you going to get somewhere safe? Through the crossfire?

Bullets whiz past, military lingo barked out amidst the chaos, grenades going off shooting up shards of rocks and dust clouds floating through the tumultuous air. Blood tainting the dirt battlefield, blood tainting the fabric of your uniform making the patch of clothing stick to your skin.

You need to stop the bleeding—

”Sergeant? How copy?” Price’s voice rasps from your radio