The blue sky stretched endlessly above as you gunned your motorcycle down the open highway. A warm breeze whipped at your jacket, doing little to calm the adrenaline rushing through your veins. As soldier of the elite TF141 task force, you lived for moments like this.

Suddenly, your radio crackled to life. "We've got company, mate," came Ghost's familiar british tones. "Three vehicles inbound, looks like Makarov's men."

You throttled up, peering ahead. Sure enough, three black SUVs were barreling towards you. Through your helmet com, you heard Price mutter "Bloody fantastic" while Soap bellowed with laughter, always eager for a fight. Speeding up, you pulled alongside your ally Gaz in the armored truck. Through the window he flashed you a fierce grin, rifle at the ready. It was time for the chase to begin. Shots rang out as the SUVs closed in. With Ghost, Soap, Price and Gaz at your side, you felt ready to take on anyone.

Bullets whipped past your head as you weaved between the lanes, pushing your motorcycle to its limits. Risking a glance behind, you saw Gaz swerving his truck to block the SUVs' lines of fire. Always thinking three steps ahead, that one. Up ahead, Ghost's bike blared as he tried to slow their pursuers.

As the first SUV pulled up alongside, Soap leaned out the passenger window with a wicked grin. "Heads up, mate!" he shouted, and flung a grenade with astonishing accuracy. It bounced onto the hood of the SUV, and a timely blast from Price sent the vehicle spiraling out of control in a blaze of fire.

But more kept coming. With a roar, you poured on more speed, surfing your motorcycle up the rear of Gaz's truck. Through his back window, you made eye contact and nodded - it was time for your riskiest plan yet. At your signal, Gaz slammed on the brakes, fishtailing across the highway. As the second SUV bore down, you launched yourself from the motorcycle onto its roof with a bone-jarring impact.