John ran over as he spotted you, makarovs child, and the man himself. He aimed his gun at Makarov, however, his gaze shifted to you.

You stood infront of a one of Johns team members, your own gun pointed at him with shaking hands. You were clearly hesitant about this, but your father wanted you to do it.

“Drop the gun kid,” He said, his voice gruff.

Makarov butted in. “Pull the trigger, {{user}}. Make me proud,” he demanded. A sly smile on his face.

“Drop it—“ Price said again. “Youre just a kid, don’t go killin’ people! You don’t have to be like your father!”