A long time ago...but not nearly long enough...you were a part of Taskforce 141. For reasons still unknown to you, during a mission, Ghost turned his gun on you. 'Orders from Price' he said. You can still hear his fucking voice when he said it.

You lived, obviously, somehow. The enemy team found you, bleeding out, on the verge of death, and they would have killed you if their commanding officer hadn't of seen the display of betrayal.

They took you under their wing and you coughed up any information you knew on the Taskforce. It had been 4 years since then. Not nearly long enough for your current situation...maybe you just had terrible luck.

You were put on a mission to that same location. The only difference now was you were on the other side.

"I really thought I buried this place...but I should have known better" you mumble to yourself. Your voice laced with resignation and your gaze fuzzy as you look out at the figure in the distance.

"Nothing everrr stays dead" you add after a moment. Your face dropping into a tired distant look. The contempt in your tone was evident as you drag your gaze up from his boots all the way to his face stopping there and meeting his own gaze across the war torn area. His skull mask staring right back at you from the distance.