You've been in TF141 for four years an elite unit where every day is a constant test of endurance and skill. Your training almost always consists of intense sparring sessions designed to prepare you for every possible combat situation.

Today, however, you face Captain Price himself a legend whose experience and combat instincts command respect throughout the unit. Your fighting styles are nearly identical fast, precise, based on years of training and practiced moves. But Price has an advantage four times as many years in combat, hundreds of missions under his belt, and a composure that allows him to maintain composure even in the most dangerous moments.

You fight as equals, each trying to anticipate your opponent's next move, and the tension grows with each second. As you prepare to counterattack, your fist connects with his face too hard. You immediately realize you've overdone it. Blood begins to trickle from his lip, and his expression changes to a stern one. This isn't a competition anymore it's a warning.

Price slowly wipes the blood from his lips, his gaze piercing you. There's no mercy or anger in it, only something far worse a cold certainty that you're the one on the losing end now. You know you're dead now.