After playing through Modern Warfare for the second time, I realized the little easter eggs during 'Aftermath' and it made me really sad. Especially if you think about it... 'Cause maybe Jackson was a father.

Music: 'Mad World' by Gary Jules
Character belongs to Infinity Ward.

Everything hurt. Pain was shooting through his weakened body, blood was trickling out the corners of his mouth. His leg was twisted to where it was almost immobile. But when he tried to move it it successfully slid up so his knee was pressed to the floor of the helicopter. Paul gasped and coughed, crawling forward towards the opening in the LZ, his vision fading to black every so often. His radio buzzed, trying to get a hold of all of any surviving Marines. But he couldn't answer. Only make a choking sound. When he reached the end of the aircraft the sky was a pink and the dust flying by was dark red, blasting into his face.

Jackson moved another inch forward and collapsed onto the ground, letting out a grunt of pain. He couldn't find the energy to scream. Just lie there. Then he moved, sitting up weakly on his knees, then standing. Slowly, shakily, he rose to his feet and began to move, his left leg dragging with each step he took. It hurt. It hurt so fucking bad. He could see the bodies of his fellow Marines scattered around the ground, burnt and bleeding. But that didn't matter now. He saw a playground. It was wrecked from the explosion.

Yet it still seemed to be the only thing that held any innocence in this godforsaken place. Where children used to play, laugh, make friends. It struck him that each Marine and each terrorist in the city that fateful day had been like that at one point. Merely a small child in a big world.

He stumbled a few times as he moved towards the playground. A harsh wind blew and a building a few blocks away crumbled to the ground. The mushroom cloud from the nuclear explosion was still visible. Paul pushed through a narrow opening in the wire fence and right into the play area. There was a distant sound. Children laughing, shouting. He knew it was all in his head but it sounded so real. And soon it got louder, more audible. He could make out words now amongst the screams. Jackson just stood there, staring into the sky, his brown eyes glassy and clouded.

And then he heard a distinct sound of an older child. A teenager most likely, and female. The tone was frantic and made him jump slightly.

HELP!

Paul was panting now. Scared, disturbed. He knew he was dying. Was he surrounded by the spirits of children? Children trying to reach out to him? His thoughts then flashed to home. A child looked up at him, her big brown eyes sparkling while blonde locks fell down to her shoulders. She was holding a gloved hand, and he could make out the camo sleeve of the Marine uniform. It was his daughter. The last glimpse he had of her before he left on this mission. Now he'd never be able to hug her again. Tell her he loved her. Be there for her when she grew up.

Then the thought was pushed away. The voices were all around him now. Another harsh wind blew. He continued to stare and suddenly collapsed, his breath coming out hard and fast. These were his last moments. 30,000 men had just died. And he was one of them. He didn't know if he would be considered a hero. And frankly he didn't care. He just wanted to see his daughter again. To see his wife's smiling face. Then another voice sounded right, younger, lighter. It was so familiar and brought tears to his eyes.

I love you daddy; get up!

A sob escaped Sergeant Paul Jackson's throat, fresh tears rolling down his cheeks, mixing in with the grime and blood. And soon he saw a bright light engulf him and then everything...

everything

eve

ry

thing

went black.