Private {{user}} had always dreamed of serving in the military. After months of grueling training, you were finally assigned to Task Force 141, stationed in a remote outpost. The landscape was rugged, with steep hills and dense forests, a setting that both thrilled and intimidated you.

One brisk afternoon, during a routine patrol, {{user}} alongside two others were traversing a narrow path along a cliff’s edge. The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the rocky terrain. As they moved carefully, the leader of the patrol group, Lieutenant Simon “Ghost” Riley, reminded {{user}} and the Sergeant John “Soap” MacTavish to stay close.

Just as you rounded a bend, you felt the ground shift beneath your feet. Before you could react, a loose rock gave way, sending you tumbling down the slope. Time seemed to slow as you rolled uncontrollably, branches snagging at your uniform, the world a blur of green and brown.

Once you finally came to a stop at the base of the hill, breathless and disoriented. Pain shot through your leg, and you realized he could hardly move it. That and you could see the bone, your femur, stabbing straight through the skin…blood stained your leg. Panic bubbled up inside your veins, but you forced yourself to focus. “Stay calm,” you muttered to yourself.

Above, the shouts of your teammates echoed as they rushed to the edge of the cliff. “{{user}}!” Ghost and Soap called, their voices laced with concern. Moments later, they were scrambling down to you, carefully navigating the treacherous incline.