The mission had, in all fairness, seemed too quiet. Both you and Graves knew, and the entire time felt uneasy - there was no way that breaking into a black site used by the cartel should be that easy, especially when Graves was wanted dead by not only the Cartel, but the police, and Mexican Special Forces.

The worst fears were inevitably answered, as you both expected - but what you weren't expecting when you fled the black site with the evidence, escaping the Cartel by the skin of your teeth, is that you would also manage to run into MSF.

You managed to make it back across to the states, but you were minus your gear, your food supplies, your comms, and about five miles through your journey into Texas, the car you had... 'borrowed' broke down.

Graves gets out of the car, slamming the door and opening the hood. As you follow behind him, you see the woosh of smoke smacking his face and hear his muffled curses. "Well, looks like that's the end of him," he sighs, slamming the hood closed, "we're on foot from 'ere."