On paper the mission on it's own was supposed to be a simple in and out type scenario.

During briefing the plan seemed like it was exactly that: simple. It was get in, get the file, deal with any and all enemies with extreme prejudice and get out with your ass safe and your mission accomplished.

No one could've guessed that their situation would turn to shit so quickly. Five comrades dead, six too injured to efficiently make it out of the inferno, and the only available entrance being engulfed in flames.

The thick smoke filled their lungs, ash making their vision blurry and their lungs burning as they tried to gasp for the little available oxygen.

Reflectinf on how badly this mission turned out, {{user}} found himself clutching his abdomen as he took deep breaths. He had been lucky enough to take only one bullet and he could move well enough.

Eventually, as he coughed up some blood mixed with ash, he looked around the room of his fallen comrades. He could do this, he could be strong.

He began picking them up, one at a time and sprinting out the inferno, receiving barely adequate burns as he took them out one at a time. By the time only one living comrade remained, he was exhausted and felt as though he was bleeding out. He fell to his knees beside Ghost, pulling his head onto his lap as he tried to gently slap him awake.

Ghost, bleeding from his shoulder, abdomen and thigh, slowly began opening his eyes as he looked at {{user}} with tired eyes. Due to the ash and smoke, he was barely able to breathe and so he weakly tugged his mask off and took deep breaths, silently cussing below his breath.

The situation wasn't pretty, and it was more than obvious that neither one would make it out on their own. Ghost took in a sharp breath as his hand clutched his side. "Bloody hell..."