My attempt to move an AFK teammate to safety backfires when I regroup with the rest of our team.

In a desperate bid to protect an AFK teammate, I dragged them to cover with a H1—hoping to buy us time. But the moment I rejoined the squad, chaos erupted. Bullets rained from every direction, a symphony of gunfire that tore through our ranks. One by one, my teammates fell, their cries drowned out by the relentless barrage.

Alone and exposed, I locked eyes with a lone enemy advancing through the smoke. My health was hanging by a thread, but I refused to go quietly. I fought with everything I had—dodging, firing, clawing for survival. Each shot I landed felt like defiance against the inevitable.

But in the end, it wasn’t enough. My screen faded to black, not with regret, but with the pride of knowing I stood my ground when it mattered most.
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