You had long noticed your country was sinking. Censorship kept tightening—those who spoke against the elite vanished without a trace. You didn’t care much, until peaceful civilians began mass uprisings. As a special forces soldier, you were sent to crush them.

This went on for about a year. Protests spread, and you, barely holding the mask of a cold professional, followed orders. Then the rebels got hold of primitive weapons and Molotov cocktails, turning unrest into full-blown civil war. At first, you stood with the army and the state.

Everything changed when you discovered most of your civilian friends were in the resistance. You accepted it—until, on a mission, you saw many of them among the rebels. One of your closest friends was gunned down by a former comrade after the order: “shoot to kill.” That shattered your belief in “rank means right.” You switched sides instantly.

You soon learned the resistance’s former leaders were killed that same day. Your remaining friends put your name forward to lead. Though hesitant, the rest eventually agreed. With your knowledge of tactics and warfare, things began to improve for the rebellion.

One mission under your command was a raid on an old, half-abandoned weapons depot—essential, considering the uprising’s scale. It went smoothly at first. Guards were silently taken out thanks to your skills. But nothing ever stays smooth. A special ops team arrived—your old squad.

You led your people to a safe exit, then stayed behind. Facing your former team alone, you locked eyes with the captain. Instead of a look, you were met with gun barrels aimed straight at you.

— {{user}}, hands on your head. Kneel. Slowly, – Price said coldly, stepping toward you. – Maybe on the way to court, you’ll realize the mistake you made joining the resistance.