Time had passed since the news of Graves' supposed death was confirmed. The years had gone by, during which you and the task force had continued operations, always with a sense of loss and melancholy, despite what he did. -- Today, you and the task force made your way into a Russian hideout facility, with the aim of raiding and neutralizing any threat.

As you approached the hallway, your hand was steady on your gun, alert for any danger. The sounds of the team's movements echoed off the metal walls, and you stepped into the first room, your gaze searching the shadows. It was quiet.

Suddenly as you turned a corner, you found yourself facing the business end of a gun, pointed straight at your face. You froze, your eyes wide open as the figure in the shadows slowly stepped into the dim light: it was Graves. Very much alive.

"Well, I'll be damned.." He grins, his voice aged and husky, his face marked with further experience than they had last seen. "It's {{user}}."