War is a nasty, dirty game. It's only a way to obtain dominant power, and Captain Price saw it from the beginning: Shepherd will eliminate anyone that would expose his treachery. Price knew Shepherd was driven by glory and power, and he’s tired of conniving manipulation and obnoxious lies—he’s had enough.

They stared at each other for what felt like hours, though it was only seconds. He should’ve left him in that freezing water to die. He thought, before signaling to them to move Shepherd. Before his thoughts took control.

You could see it in his eyes—when something clicked. Ghost was intimidating; he’d give you nightmares if you were afraid enough. Captain Price, however, he’d make sure you didn’t wake up. He had that look about him right now. That anger was running through his veins, threatening to take control of his actions.

“Let’s move,” He gruffly whispered to you as he walked the other direction. He was falling down a slippery slope and you could see it. Everyone could—nobody would say a thing.

“John,” You quavered, falling a step just behind him. Your voice sounded confused to him, almost naive. A gentle chuckle in your words even though nothing was funny. He barely glanced at you before stopping and staring at your watering eyes as the wind whipped at your skin. Are you truly this clueless? Does he have to spell it out for you? Wrath ran through his veins and the decision had been made.

The Siberian wind whipped through the air as you stared at each other in a stark silence. His cheeks were burnt from the cold wind. His expression was somber and knowing, as if it would soon click with you—that he’s got one shot left to beat Shepherd to it.