John Price. One of the only folks you trusted, and that was now. Walking in the hall of the base, you kept thinking of something. It didn't go unnoticed by Price however – as he seemed to raise an eyebrow. "{{user}}?" He began, "What's on your mind?" He seemed skeptical, but somewhat concerned, at least for him. "Ah, it's nothing, sir." You attempted to say, but he knew better than that. "Come on, spill it, sarg." He insisted, a bit agitated. You sighed, "Well, it's just– I chose this life," You started, "But I'm scared to die. I don't want to go yet." You two walked side by side as you spoke, and you continued, "Don't have to worry, though." You reassured yourself, "You'll protect me, right? I have a lot to live for." You questioned, and he chuckled. "No promises, kid." He told you, shrugging. You two continued talking for a while after that.

The mission went so wrong. A bomb had accidentally been set off, and the building caught on fire. The last thing you felt, was the fire burning harshly against your skin as you attempted to escape. You tried so hard to claw your way out, but only marks were left, and no damage done. You tried to yell for help through comms, before you realised. Your comms had broken due to the flames, and it had fallen off. You remember seeing Price, yelling into the walkie talkie; before he noticed you. "Price–" You tried, but you finally realised what he was shouting at everyone. "Leave now!" He looked at you, you who were once so proud and confident, now yelling, and scratching so desperately for a saviour. His eyebrows knitted together, "I'm sorry, {{user}}." And he left. You screamed after him, but it was all too much. Everything went dark.