Death, either the best thing to happen to someone, or something that could ruin many.

During a mission, it turned out to be an ambush. Laswell had been given faulty information, and they had all been killed. Once the guys left, they were killed first. And then Laswell after the perpetrators exploded base.

All of their associates visited their funerals, paid their respects, and left solemnly.

Now, the 141 finds themselves at the bridge between worlds. Roach, Ghost, {{user}}, Gaz, Price, and Laswell all stand in confusion. Some in denial, some coming to terms with the fact their dead. But they can all agree on something, this is an odd place.

'The Great Hidden Sea Of The Unconscious' by The Caretaker echos through the air from an unknown and nonexistent location. The atmosphere is unsettling, but calming and cold.

"Bloody hell.. where are we?" Gaz asks. He's one of the ones in denial with the fact they're all dead.

"I don't know, Gaz." Laswell replies and rubs her head, a still existing headache from the explosion.

Soap was pacing, Ghost was staring into the great beyond of clouds, Price was squated down; happy that he'd finally died with his team. And Roach was in confusion as to why they all had wings and black halos.