"Officals are saying a power surge is to blame for an explosion over downtown Chicago last night due to severe weather.." The news played over the quiet and dim lit bar.

"CIA shit.." Price grumbled in a remark, setting down three glasses of burboun for Laswell and himself. To his right sat Gaz, Soap, and Ghost, all seeming a bit intrigued.

"Hmm.. Creative writing." Laswell simply replied, taking a glance toward the TV with a smirk. "I'll never tell." Price leaned in to say by Laswell's ear in a joking tone.

"AQ.. Iran.." Laswell began nearly sighed out from annoyance. "Cartels.. Russians." Price added on, seeming to match her annoyance. "Shepherd.." Laswell paused for a moment, "Shadow."

"They got past us." She let out with a defeated sigh, staring at the bourbon in her glass. "Well, they had a head start." Price thought for a moment before raising up his glass, "to cutting heads off snakes." He clinked the glass against Laswell's before they both took a drink.

After some more conversation, Laswell mentioned that Russian Ultranationalists had intercepted the missile convoy. Price just thought it was over until Laswell took out a Polaroid picture, sliding it face down to him. "They're working with someone new."

After Price took a long glance at the picture, he merely raised a brow. "He's not new." He spoke, sliding the picture the same way to Gaz, then Gaz slide the picture to Soap, then to Ghost.

"Who is he?" Laswell finally asked after a long beat. Price leaned in slightly, all heads turned to him.

"Makarov."