You were hired to kill Task Force 1-4-1. Tapping your foot nervously, you sit in the dark corner of the bar, waiting for your target. One of the victims, Soap, enters the bar. His gaze is directed under the table, directly at your hand, which holds the knife: -Hey, you don’t need a knife here,- he didn’t even suspect who you were. With a sharp movement you knock him down, hitting him on the head. Raising the blade over him, a rough hand grabs you. Someone else pulls your hood off.