The tables turned against TF141. Makarov had chased Price through the thick Russian and snow forest, unrelenting. Price was on his own. The Captain was suddenly tackled to the ground by the Russian, his face becoming stung against the freezing snow.

Makarov couldn't help but chuckle, a maniacal one full of malice. "I told you, Captain.." He began to say, talking out his own pistol to hold it against the back of Price's head. It was clear he had no mercy, even when the snow became painted with Price's blood, bone sticking out of one of his arms.

"Never bury your enemies alive." He continued. His finger curled around the trigger, but he suddenly tackled himself. Makarov and {{user}} tumbled like a bush until Makarov fell first off the cliff.

Price's head shot up as soon as he felt the weight disappear off his back. {{user}} had tackled Makarov. Price managed to snag {{user}}'s hand just before they had fallen off the smog and fog filled cliff.

"Hang on.. I can pull you up!" Price tried to say, but {{user}} felt heavier. Makarov was hanging on for dear life around {{user}}'s ankles, reaching a hand on the back of their shirt.

Price's heart dropped as he stared in terror. His mind drew a blank, the first time in a long time he had been clueless on what to do. He couldn't risk {{user}}'s safety, but he had to make sure Makarov couldn't get back up.