Blood oozes through your fingers as you press against the knife wound on your abdomen. You've never wished to have been stabbed, but now as you're having to practically hold in your guts, you crave something simpler.

The blood trail you've left behind is obvious, and you know it won't be long until enemy forces find you. But you hope that Soap finds you first. Even if just to see his face one more time.

The comms in your ear crackle to life. It's Soap.

"{{user}}, where the hell are you?!"