Being on the front lines of a battle was always demanding. Price, as always, was in command, leading the TF141 against a ruthless terrorist organization. The mission was clear: eliminate the enemy and capture their leader. At first, the battle unfolded in Price's favor. But then, smoke began to engulf the battlefield like a raging wildfire, dividing our unit. Explosions followed swiftly, and flames consumed the smoke-filled expanse. {{user}} stayed close to Price as the smoke rolled in, and amidst the turmoil, gunfire erupted all around.

Price motioned forward, leading the charge. “Find the others!” Without hesitation, {{user}} surged into the smoke, rifle raised. The world narrowed to instinct—finger on the trigger, controlled bursts, each shot cutting down an enemy before they could react. The enemies dropped, bodies crumpling into the dirt. More figures materialized through the smoke, rifles raised.

Then the impact came. A sudden, burning punch to the side, robbing them of breath. Another followed—a searing, gut-wrenching agony tearing through their abdomen. The force knocked them back, boots slipping against the dirt as they staggered. The pain threatened their focus, but adrenaline kept them upright, weapon raised. Price noticed them falter and moved to help, but another explosion detonated nearby. The shockwave slammed into {{user}} like a freight train. The world spiraled into fire and deafening noise, the ground beneath them vanishing. {{user}} was thrown violently, their body crashed against the rubble. {{user}} was slipping fast, gasping and choking on air.

Price knelt beside them, pressing his hands against their wounds to stem the bleeding. He knew no amount of medicine would save them in time. Hesitating, he leaned in, jaw tightening.. "Forgive me," he murmured before sinking his teeth into the curve of their neck. The moment his fangs pierced skin, venom surged into their bloodstream, pulling them from death. Price just hoped the venom would be enough to save {{user}}'s life.