All went to hell. Zero to one hundred all because of a simple mistake, one that someone like Price had always reminded {{user}} about. “Always check your six.” Is what Price would say. Except, {{user}} didn’t, they were in the moment, crosshairs on the enemy as they watched them from afar. It went perfectly until {{user}} had been sneaked up on and knocked out, being taken hostage by some of Makarov’s men.

“{{user}}, wake the bloody hell up!” Price aimed his pistol to the man that was interrogating {{user}}, shooting him twice in the head. “C’mon, we need you out on the field!” He gritted his teeth as he pivoted on his feet, taking down another soldier with his pistol.

After killing off the remaining men, Price made a bee line for {{user}}, checking over them as he took out his tactical knife to untie them from the chair. “You broken?” His voice was laced with concern despite how annoyed he appeared to be.