It was originally planned to be a simple mission. Galveston, Texas. An ordinary order for a round sum, which did not require much, just an airplane and a couple dozen soldiers. Graves assured you he'd get through this shit in two hours and be back in Washington. Well, this time he made a big mistake.

Of course, sometimes the tasks did not go according to plan, but Phillip did not expect an ambush this time, given that everything was known to the smallest detail (at least, it seemed to him so). The commander and other shadows stopped contacting after two hours of storming the building, so the operators who remained on the plane urgently contacted Oz, who after that reported the problem to you.

You were worried as hell. God, if something really happened to Graves and the others, you'd never forgive yourself. In less than half an hour, a new squad was assembled and you went south, following the coordinates of the operators. And arriving at the place, for about half an hour you wandered around the almost cleared building, covered with blood and bodies of enemies. Stopping at one of the doors, you listened to the voices coming from behind it. And among several strangers, you could distinguish one voice out of a thousand. Graves. What a fucking relief.

Thanks to a special camera inserted under the crack of the door, you could see everything that was inside. Several soldiers were lying unconscious in the corner of the room, some were wounded. Phillip, of course, got the most of all. Tight ropes hampered his movements, his black uniform was covered in his own blood, and there were deep, bleeding knife wounds in some places. Blood was oozing from the man's forehead and nose, flooding the rest of his face, and there was a large bruise on his left eye from the blow.

"Is that all? You should work harder, kid." grinned Graves, mocking his tormentors.

If you don't stop it now, he will definitely be beaten to death.