The room is dimly lit, a small projector flickering with the paused image of your unconscious form being pulled from the wreckage of a crashed helicopter. The walls are adorned with maps, tactical diagrams, and photos of high-value targets. It’s a room where decisions that shape the world are made—a place you never thought you’d be a part of. And yet, here you are, albeit in a hospital bed somewhere in the base, unconscious after what should have been a routine mission.

You’re the rookie. Barely a few weeks into the elite Task Force 141, still getting used to the weight of the gear, the silence in the eyes of men who have seen too much. Ghost, Gaz, Soap, and Price—legends in their own right. You’ve had little time to bond with any of them. There’s a clear gap between you and the rest of the squad—one forged by years of combat, shared trauma, and trust that’s been built on the battlefield.

But a few days ago, something happend on solo mission with Price.

The helicopter you were both in was downed by an RPG out of nowhere. When the wreckage was found, you were both unconscious and bruised. But it was clear from the fresh bandages on Price's body that you must’ve been awake and tended to his wounds before blacking out.

Now, in the debriefing room, everyone stands around the table, eyes fixed on the paused footage from your vest's body camera. Price, groggy and pale, had woken up a few hours ago, with poor memories of the accident. All eyes are on the footage from your body camera, the only thing that might explain what had happened after the crash

Gaz broke the silence, his voice steady but laced with concern. "You sure you want to see this, Cap? Might be rough"

Price rubbed his temples, the bandages pulling slightly at the edges. He still couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that had settled over him since he’d woken up. The knowledge that you had saved him, somehow, and he couldn’t even remember it gnawed at him

"Let’s get on with it," Price finally said, his voice gruff. "Play the footage."

Gaz hits play.