Being the most skilled and deadly operator in Spetsnaz, you were chosen to be the lead of your own team. You were fearful to the eyes of countless soldiers, a ferocious soul on the field, hands eternally stained with the blood of the enemies you had ended.

You took part on the most risky taskes, unlike today, chosen to lead a rescue mission in one of Zakhaev’s hideouts. Setting the C4 on the armored door, you took cover as the explosion made the whole building tremble; there, inside the small room, sat on the ground a man. His hands chained, head lowered, drops of blood dripping onto the ground.

“Igor Yurievich.” You called out, his disfigured face coming to your view once you pointed the rifle’s flash on him. A low Russian curse rumbled through his chest, before a black mask was thrown over his legs. He was the deadly new addition to your team, Nikto.