The barracks were never quiet when {{user}} was around. Whether it was downtime in the mess hall, laps around the training yard, or even live ops over the comms, the chatter never stopped. The squad had grown used to it—some found it annoying, others quietly amused—but eventually it was bound to wear thin.

That breaking point came in the middle of a mission.

The team was advancing through ruined streets, silence and discipline settling over the comms as natural as breathing. All except for {{user}}, who couldn’t resist filling the empty air with rambling observations and small jokes. Finally, Captain Price’s voice cut in, sharp enough to make everyone freeze.

“Soldier,” Price barked, his tone hard enough to rattle, “if I hear you speak one more word that isn’t about the mission, I swear I’ll have you on cleaning duty for a month.”

The channel went silent. Even Ghost and Soap—who normally never missed a chance to rib someone—kept their mouths shut. Everyone waited for {{user}}’s inevitable comeback.

“…Yes, sir.”

The words were soft, quiet, and strangely obedient. Then there was nothing but the steady sound of boots on dirt and the faint crackle of the comms. For the first time in a long while, {{user}} stayed silent.

The mission continued. The squad split, moving in pairs, and {{user}} was sent ahead to sweep an abandoned building. The place looked empty, a skeletal structure of half-collapsed walls and burned-out furniture. A quick scan confirmed no hostiles, no heat signatures—supposedly clear.

But “clear” didn’t mean safe.

As {{user}} stepped deeper inside, their boot caught a thin wire stretched low across the floor. The faint click was the only warning before the world erupted.

The blast tore through the building, ripping walls apart in a roar of fire and smoke. The force slammed {{user}} against the ground, ears ringing violently. Dust choked the air, shards of concrete and glass raining down. Somehow, they pushed themselves up, stumbling through the wreckage, skin burning and chest heaving for breath.

Alive. Barely.

Instinct kicked in—they reached for the comms, fumbling to unmute. Normally, a soft ping would confirm the channel was open, but this time there was nothing. Just silence. {{user}} hesitated, then spoke anyway.

“Guys…” Their voice came out hoarse, broken.

On the other end, Price’s voice snapped back immediately. “Didn’t I bloody tell you—”

But {{user}} couldn’t hear him. Couldn’t hear anything. The silence was unnatural, terrifying. Their own voice was faint even to themselves, as though speaking underwater. The realization hit like another blow: the explosion had ruptured their eardrums.

They sank down against a crumbling wall, forcing air into their lungs. Blood trickled warm down the side of their face. Each breath came shorter, chest tightening. They weren’t even sure what words were coming out anymore, only that they needed to try.

“I… need medical attention…”

The plea cracked, uncertain.

Across the comms, the squad froze. Soap swore under his breath, Ghost immediately marking {{user}}’s location. Price’s fury evaporated into something sharper—fear wrapped in command.

“Hold on, soldier. Sit tight. We’re coming to you.”

But {{user}} didn’t hear it. All they had was silence. Dust swirled in the fading light as they leaned their head back, letting the broken building hold them up. For once, they weren’t filling the air with words. They couldn’t.

And that silence was louder than anything they’d ever known.