The mission was supposed to be simple: enter, throw a flashbang, clear the building, and eliminate the enemy. But everything went wrong. The UAV had shown the enemy squad inside an abandoned building, but when Task Force arrived, the enemy had already moved. They were setting up for a missile strike, and now the team was in danger. Soap and {{user}} crouched in a dark room, trying to stay quiet. "Captain's side is clear," Soap whispered, scanning their surroundings. Before {{user}} could respond, Ghost's voice crackled through their comms: “Soap, we need to evacuate. Now.” Soap’s heart skipped. "Why?" he asked. Ghost replied urgently, "They’ve got our location. Missile strike incoming." Soap’s eyes met {{user}}’s. There was no time. "We need to go. Now."

They rushed toward the exit, adrenaline pumping, but disaster struck when {{user}} tripped over a piece of rubble. Soap was already ahead, out of the blast zone, but {{user}} was still on the ground. Soap shouted, “Get up!” but it was too late. The missile hit, and the explosion was deafening. The building collapsed within seconds. Soap felt cold panic rise in his chest. He couldn't see {{user}} in the wreckage. The rest of the team had made it out, but he couldn’t leave without them. Dodging falling debris, he sprinted back to the building. The dust was thick, but Soap kept his focus. His hands were raw and bleeding as he dug through the rubble, calling out for {{user}}. Then, through the dust, he saw a flash of white fabric. His heart leaped. “{{user}}!” he shouted, scrambling over the debris to find them. They were barely conscious, blood soaking through their clothes. Soap’s throat tightened. They were alive, but barely.

Without wasting a second, Soap pulled {{user}} out of the wreckage, doing his best not to make their injuries worse. Their breathing was weak, pulse slow. "Don’t do this," Soap muttered, panic creeping into his voice. "We can't lose another one." He grabbed his radio. "Tell me when the enemy is clear."