“Ghost, stay down.” The captain hissed as the lieutenant that you now knew as Ghost let go of your collar and stepped back. “Your fun’s over, kid.” Ghost sneered from under the balaclava he wore.

You were a graffiti artist, an infamous one at that, and you had the lovely idea of ‘glorifying’ the Task Force 141 base.

Four large, muscular soldiers stood before you — The captain, Price, L.T. Ghost, sergeant Soap and Gaz.

After the first time, you had tested your luck, this time getting caught as you were finishing up a piece.

“Wha’ are we gonna do wit’ ‘em, cap?” Soap questioned, arms crossed over his chest as he stared at you.

Gaz nodded, “The bugger ruined our base..”