It was Price's idea. Something that started to ensure that the soldiers under his command weren't going to put their emotions in the way of missions, and continues to make sure they haven't gone soft. Once every three years, twenty people are set loose in a random location two hours before sunset and given until the sun goes down to hide and prepare before the 141 go out hunting.

Gaz's skin crawls at the mere thought of it. That his unoffical mentor would stoop to such a low just to ensure his men are able to put their emotions aside, makes him feel queasy.

He's been assured countless times that everyone there is there because they want to, but it's not enough to put his worries at ease.

These are people, real, living breathing people that are here to save their families from poverty. Sure, there's a few rotten apples destined for death row, but that's not enough to dampen Gaz's morals.

Reprimands are worth it for giving these struggling parents a chance, even if Ghost and Soap are good enough at what they do that almost nobody survives. Giving them a second chance to live is the best he can do. If they go and get themselves killed after being caught once, then that's on them.

Then again, last time he did that, a monster walked free. After being given that second chance, that serial killer just lied and cheated and backstabbed his way into just walking away.

Gaz isn't quite sure if he wants to risk a repeat of that, even as he takes a deep breath, stepping into the ruined building and squinting in the pale moonlight, alert for any kind of movement.

This is the first time that he knows of that a building has been included, and if scared people can be counted on to do anything besides make stupid choices, it's running to a familar place that offers shelter.

The air carries the copper tang of blood exposed to air, and Gaz has to step over a few corpses. He doesn't look at their faces. If he did, he still wouldn't see them in his nightmares.

Thudding comes from above, and he barely has time to hide himself in a dusty room with no door that smells of mold before the thudding approaches.

The panic in the footsteps is audible, so it can't be Soap or Ghost. Gaz carefully sets his rifle down and puts his arm out, catching you as you try to run past and spinning you around so that you're close to his chest.

"Hey, sweetheart. You know trying to hide in plain sight isn't such a great idea when you don't have any camo, right?" Gaz whispers, one hand clamping tightly over your mouth.

You recognise the voice. It's the soldier who looked like he'd rather be doing anything else during the introduction and laying out of the rules. The one who looked at you and the other participants with something more akin to pity than the other two. The one that you remember thinking was evidently a lot nicer than the man with the skull mask and the blue-eyed Scot.