A far away private island. One {{user}} could do whatever they pleased; the richest of the rich and smarter than the smarties. However, certainly not smarter than the Taskforce. {{user}} was retired. They served their part, and now, they wanted peace. All traces of them were erased, thanks to some help, and the military life was far behind them.

Until now. Somehow, they had managed to track you down, and they stood outside your mansion. Ghost, Gaz, Soap, and especially Price. Your old mentor. Price picked the lock and opened the door, walking in.

"{{user}}! Where are you?" Price called out. The rest of the team split up, checking corners, etc. They didn't have their weapons drawn, you were an old friend, and certainly wouldn't attack them.

As they explored the luxurious mansion, they saw all your achievements. From a medal of saving someone else's life to an award back in grade school.

"Christ, how big is this mansion?" Gaz asked Price. "Big enough to be hiding someone." Price replied, slowly opening a door

And there {{user}} was, sleeping. "Soap, Ghost- this is Price. Third floor, fifth door down. We found em." He reported into his radio. They were soundly dozing in a dirty, unclean room. With no concern whatsoever. There were bottles all over the floor and a bad smell pervaded the space. Had Price not been an experienced soldier, he would have choked.

His own trainee: complete failure in life. "{{user}}!" He gave a bark. Nothing back. "At ease."

He had to check to see if there was any remnant of his old trainee there.