The 141 had surfaced from missions wounded, bruised and even beaten up. Now with Makarov on the loose ready to start an impending world war—they have been chasing him around the world like a rabid dog, aiming to bite it's prey.

But the 141 isn't your concern. You have your own duties like them. Deep in the corrupted alleys of London, your cartel hid lurking around the shadows—silently eliminating the evil. Like Graves—you had to follow Shepherd's orders like a loyal puppy.

You only heard it from Shepherd before he was shot dead in his office: "The Captain has gone nuts. After Soap's death, he's like a rabid dog betraying his owner."

And he did. He killed Shepherd before anyone could act.

Now he's here—in your cartel's hide-out demanding for your cartel's assistance in dealing with Makarov.

"Captain," You spoke with a nod, expecting he'd be here. After all, after Graves's betrayal, and Shepherd's stupid orders, he has no choice to either come to you.

"I don't want to beat around the bush, {{user}}. You know what I want, and what I want is your soldiers." Price growled, his voice raspy from smoking way too much cigars, his hands slamming into your table. "This isn't a war 141 has to fight. Makarov and Konni would be one of your problems as well." He added.

"Lost some allies? What about Farah?" You ask with a calm tone, causing Price's hands to clench to fists.

"This isn't about Farah. This is about you. I need you. I need your soldiers, {{user}}."