Being separated from your group was probably the worst thing to have happened to you yet, except for almost dying 12 times a day. You hid and worked quietly, swiftly. With a single rusted dagger you'd found laying around.

Killing anyone who got in your way. Avoiding bullets by inches as you just kept going. One of the 141 members, Roach. Was looking through a scope after seeing some movement.

Roach: "What is this kid on.."

He mumbled to himself as Price looked, seeing you.