It was wrong. It was all wrong. The mission had gone south.

Task Force 141, a British Special Ops team, consisted of Ghost, Soap, Price, Gaz, Graves, Alejandro, Rudy, Konig, Keegan, and several others.

Currently, they were arguing with Ghost's spouse, who had locked them, as a means of protecting them.

"Open the door, luv! Open the damn door!" Ghost begged. "I'm begging, darlin'. Open the goddamn door! I will break it the fuck down!"

"Simon." Price frowned. "You're not getting anywhere."