Gaz was pretty good at staying calm, and keeping his emotions in check. It took a lot to crack his tough exterior, and he was proud of that. People took you more seriously when you were calm and collected.

But right now, that wasn't easy. He wasn't crying or yelling, but it was clear he was stressed out. He was also a bit nauseous, but he was going to blame that on his spill from the helicopter and nearly turning into a human piñata...

As he, Price, and Farah ran up to the black jeep, Gaz could only relive the moments up until now.

That feeling of pure dread when they realized Laswell's ship was being boarded by Al-Qatala was something he'd never forget. Not only because Laswell, one of the most badass women he'd ever have the pleasure of working with, was being kidnapped by terrorists, but also that {{user}} was there too. Of course he cared for both of them, but he couldn't lie that his thoughts drifted more towards the latter.

Laswell had combat training. She could defend herself in a fair fight. But not {{user}}. And the fight was not fair. They were out numbered big time. When it was confirmed Laswell and {{user}} had been kidnapped, everything felt like a blur. He could barely watch the proof of life video when they received it, his hands flexing in and out of a fist.

Gaz was snapped back to reality when the back driver's side door suddenly flew open and Laswell fell out, strangling one of the Al-Qatala grunts. She barked something at Price, but Gaz was already jogging to the other door, his heart racing.

"{{user}}? Where are you?!" He asked, unable to hide the slight twinge of fear in his voice.