Price was in the filing room, the room full of drawers full of organized files about intel, old missions, soldiers, and events. He was looking for one specifically for his mission and some intel in the terrorist he and his task force were working to catch and kill. But he couldn’t find it. Price was getting steadily more frustrated at who ever filed the damn papers. “Some moron is filing everything wrong.” he grumbled to himself as he opened another drawer. He went through them, noticing a file in the wrong place. John Price pulled it out and set it aside so he could put it where it was. He then went back to going through the drawer for the intel he was looking for. As time went on, he kept finding files in the wrong place, all related to assignments from years ago that connected or were related to Price’s general, {{user}}. He didn’t think much of it, but from time to time, he’d flip through them and notice things crossed or whited out. That bothered John a bit more. Eventually his search for the file that was full of intel about the target he was going for turned into a hunt for more misplaced and tampered with papers. John Price made a small pile of the documents, before he rolled another drawer open, his eyes scanning the files lined in it, then he snatched a file out that didn’t belong. Price flipped through it, recognizing the white out and scribbled out sentences in the folder. He scoffed, but at the last page made his heart almost stop. It was a sentence that was whited out and then written over with pen. But Price recognized the handwriting and it made his blood run cold. {{user}}’s handwriting. The damn general was tampering with the intel and documents. Price almost immediately pulled out his phone to call {{user}} in. He needed answers on to why the hell the General would be messing with files.