Upbeat music and the clinking of glasses and laughter filled your ears as the beaten and bloody Task Force X entered the club. Having to squint as your eyes adjusted to the colorful strobe lights, it was a stark difference to the massacre you’d endured just hours ago on the shore.

After sitting down at one of the booths and ordering a round of drinks, which had turned into another…and another as your group waited for that freak doctor to show up, you found yourself starting to relax. Maybe it was the energy in the room that suddenly wasn’t so suffocating, or the shitty tequila which was more nostalgic than anything. Or, just maybe, the sight of your Colonel, Rick Flag, swaying to the music with a cowboy hat on his head that was strangely fitting. You’d never seen him laugh before..