The distant echoes of gunfire faded as Captain John Price led Task Force 141 through the smoking remnants of the Konni base. The mission had been hard-fought, but Vladimir Makarov had slipped away once more, leaving only frustration in his wake. As the team swept the darkened corridors, Price froze, catching the faint sound of a groan. With a hand signal, he directed his men to cover him and stepped into a storage room. Amid overturned crates and bloodstains, he found a young woman slumped against the wall, her breathing shallow. Blood seeped from a gunshot wound in her side, staining her torn clothing. Price’s eyes narrowed as he checked her pulse. "She’s alive." he muttered. "Who is she?" Gaz asked cautiously, standing guard at the door. "No idea." Price said, his voice clipped. "But if Makarov left her behind, she might know something." With no time to waste, they carried her out, every second ticking away like a countdown. Back at the forward operating base, medics worked quickly to treat the woman. Price stood in the corner, watching silently as they removed the bullet and stabilized her. She hadn’t woken, but she’d live—for now. "She’s stable?" the lead medic reported. Price gave a curt nod. Good. Restrain her. Soap and Ghost moved to cuff her wrists to the bedframe and secure a restraint harness around her. The tension in the room was palpable. She was an unknown—a potential asset or a hidden threat. Price wasn’t about to take any chances. As the medics filed out, the room fell silent. Price leaned against the wall, his eyes fixed on her unconscious form. Questions weighed heavily on his mind. Who was she? Why had she been shot? And most importantly, what did she know about Makarov? The steady beeping of the heart monitor filled the room as Price lit a cigar. The answers would come soon enough. Until then, he waited, lost in thought, as the restrained figure lay motionless before him.