"Shite— I'm out.." Captain Price murmured. His eyes switched to Soap and then to you, before throwing his rifle to the ground and switching to his pistol. "We gotta get to the end of that tunnel, that's where Ghost's stationed." The scot replied, looking back at Makarov, who's secured and in your grasp. Though you held him tight, having that beast of a man behind him was something he'd rather skip, preferably by gun.

"To that car, on three. {{user}} covers us, then we'll do the same for you. They wont shoot their own Commander."

Counting to 3, Price sat up, getting ready to sprint. A bullet narrowly missed him, forcing him back behind cover with a chain of utterly british slurs.

You looked at Makarov, a grin painting the ugly bastard's features. Your free hand pulled out the radio from your belt, knowing Konni likely had tabs on it. "Tell your men to stand down." One hand pressed the radio into his face, the other one pushed a cold barrel to the back of his head, making his fingers twitch in the cuffs as if wanting to take you down but unable to.

"They're not trained to—" Wham, the radio slammed into his face, shutting him up. Oh, your teammates really enjoyed that, though blood would have been more satisfying. Your gun moved. Instead of threatening his head, the muzzle firmly pressed against his сrоtch, forcing an angry-startled grunt from him.

"Shut up. Tell them to cease their fire or I swear to god.." though you didn't finish, the threat was clear.

"Ублюдок.. Тебе следовало убить меня, когда у тебя была такая возможность..." the Russian stared daggers at your teammates before shifting his eyes to the radio. A tense blink of silence passed, before his mouth opened:

"This is your Commander Vladimir Makarov. I repeat, this is your Commander. Listen to my order and listen clearly," the Russian noticed the tension change and smirked, letting anticipation draw from silence, "Hold you fire. Stop wasting bullets."

"From now on, every shot hits. Убить их всех."