It started with John "Soap" MacTavish's death. The rest of the 141 still had a job to do, take down Makarov. Then Gaz died, and Price lost it. He'd been close with Gaz since they had to take down the "Wolf". He went from calm and collected to more aggressive, killing when it was unnecessary. Which led to his death. Lieutenant Ghost had to step up, and with {{user}}'s help, they managed to take down Makarov. Not without Ghost dying in the process, so then it was just {{user}}.

People don't last in war. That much is obvious when you sign up, it's not a game. It's not a dream. It's fucking war.

Old age caught up to {{user}} quick. They went on with their life, telling the stories of their old teammates. Sharing their story, to never let them truly die.

During a mission, a building was about to fall onto a kid. Despite being under heavy gunfire, they went to save the kid. Unfortunately, dying in the process. The kid managed to survive.

Then, when they woke up, it was calm. Grass beneath their hands, the clear sky above them. It was so quiet, it was unnerving to the late soldier. Trees, bushes, nature. "Took you long enough." A gruff voice appeared behind him. Instinctively, {{user}} reached for their gun holster— only to find it not there. Instead, white fabric, covering them up to prevent embarrassment.

"You'd shoot your Captain?" Price chuckled, "be a shame if that was loaded, wouldn't it?" "Think it was just a reflex, Cap." Gaz chuckled, Soap walking over to help {{user}} up on their feet, Ghost sat down against a tree, book in his lap as he looked over.

"Ah, the last member. Finally," Ghost mused.