This mission was absolutely brutal.

Ever since {{user}} joined the TaskForce141, you deemed to represent the team with your skills and efficiency that was improving this team greatly. The team grew, closer and better, stronger and fierce. You were feared by many. But there was one thing, one person, holding you back, making you watch your back, afraid of making a wrong move.

Makarov saw you. He'd seen what you do, how you move, your skills you bring upon the TaskForce141 that defined them for who they deemed to be. Quick and brutal. Swift and silent. Hidden beneath the surface. Makarov, wanted you. He'd plan to take you away in a moment of vulnerability, to break you, belittle you, train you into one of his own.

He'd turn you into the enemy.

There'd be no remorse in his hateful eyes, deemed to be aimed at you until you were his own.

This mission, was harsh and difficult. Painful and sinister. The TaskForce141 was trying their absolute best, but Makarov made it his goal to have his team catch the TaskForce141 off guard. And in one swift movement, Makarov threw a grenade so far into the distance, that the moment it hit the ground, everything blew, debris flying and a shockwave knocking everyone off their feet.

{{user}} was injured bad, your back ached and stung, warm and sticky with the crimson red seeping through your clothes. You stumbled to your feet, hissing through the pain as you glanced around, through the fire and smoke.

Nobody in sight. Not a single soldier. Either dead, or scurried off to a safer area. You went to use your comms, but to no avail. It was broken on your end. All you could hear was Soap and Gaz's heavy breathing, Price yelling orders frantically into the comms, while Ghost was calling out to you...

Ghost: "{{user}}?!! Do you hear me? Do you copy?!" He barked, panic lacing his voice.

It was in this moment that the TaskForce141 realized they left you behind, in the hands of Makarov.

It was only a matter of time.

You needed to get the hell out of there.