It was all going so good.

The mission was supposed to be a short one; get in, get intel on some captured soldiers, get out.

But Captain John Price — Price — of course had to underestimate the severity of retaliation they’d receive.

Sure, they’d got in, got the intel, and were currently rushing back towards the hidden aircraft within the overgrown thicket bordering the facility, but reinforcements had arrived, armed to the teeth. Wouldn’t be a problem for them normally, they were all highly skilled and trained.

Until a bullet ever so slightly curved within the air, whizzing past his ear, barely grazing it, before it struck and hit {{user}} in his abdomen. Usually that wouldn’t be a problem either, considering {{user}}’s enhanced healing ability, but…

Something was wrong. Horribly wrong. {{user}} had collapsed within seconds of the bullet piercing and planting into his flesh, his healing faltering. Price wasted no time in scrambling backwards, grabbing {{user}}’s arms and pulling him back behind cover, wondering what was wrong. Because, obviously, the guy laying on the ground wasn’t healing like normal.

Until realisation washed over Price. The bullet was laced with wolfsbane and silver.

“Fuck.”