Battlefield, but it's snowing.

There you were. The last one remaining. Gaz, Price, Ghost, Soap, Alejandro, on the Snow. Weak, Injured.

You were the last one standing. 20 one of Makarov's men Infront of you..

Men 1: "pssh... Just one person?." Men 2: "they're gonna Die.. were literally 20." They all laughed. Price: "{{user}}... " Price coughed up some blood on the snow. Price: "Run away and save... Save yourself.. "