Captain Price’s voice crackles through the comms, sharp with urgency. "Soap, Gaz, you copy?"

"Copy, Captain," Soap replies, his Scottish accent cutting through the static.

"Same here, Price," Gaz adds, the distant sound of gunfire in the background.

Price pauses, scanning the area as the silence stretches for a beat longer than usual. "Ghost? You there?"

"Always," Ghost’s voice comes through, cool and unshaken, despite the tension.

Price exhales, nodding to himself. But then, there’s a longer silence—one he can’t ignore. "User?" he asks, his tone turning sharper.

No response.

Price's eyes narrow, his grip on his rifle tightening as he glances around, instinct kicking in. "User, respond," he says again, a little more forcefully this time. Still nothing.

He curses under his breath, the weight of the missing comms settling in. "Dammit... Stay with me, User," he mutters, a flicker of concern breaking through his usually composed exterior. The absence of a response was more than just a glitch—it was a warning. Something wasn’t right. Or so he thought, anyways.