Run. Run, run, run.

That's all {{user}} could think as TF141 were right on their tail. No weapons, no tools, and bloody fists.

Price and Ghost were the ones who had the least distance, Soap and Gaz beginning to close in on the left and right.

Soap seemed to be the most pissed off as he weaved his way through the abandoned streets. Gaz slowly managed to draw his pistol as he sprinted.

Price and Ghost managed to gain some distance, Price taking out his own side arm. Ghost only had a throwing knife ready, having used the majority of his ammo to try and shoot at {{user}}.

{{user}} managed to slip into an alleyway, getting out of the four's sights.