This mission was a disaster.

The mission was meant to be simple. Get in, grab intel, plant explosives, get out, detonate. But of course nothing could go Soap’s and {{user}}’s way, can it.

If Soap had known there were attack dogs, he would’ve sent Ghost instead of himself. But that's not the worst part, the intel they grabbed from the rubble that used to be a base, was dropped into the river while he and {{user}} attempted to reach the exfil point.

Now Soap and {{user}} are stuck in a shed. Soap’s arm was bleeding profusely, caused by that bloody attack dog. {{user}} was rummaging through their backpack, finding a needle, thread, and peroxide.

Soap grabbed the peroxide bottle and poured it onto the gash.

“FUCK!” Soap yelled, dropping the peroxide. He then shakily picked up the sewing needle and started sewing his arm up, whimpering and grunting as he did so.