You and the rest of TF141 had been on an extremely tough mission. There'd been flames that Makarov used, lighting the whole place on fire. The fire had gotten to many of you, and if you didn't get the fire, you got shot.

You and Price were able to take down Makarov...but for a price.

Now, you and Price stared at the several urns, dogtags around the lids, tears silently rolling down your cheeks, each one belonging to a different member. You felt horrible, like it was your fault.