It had been about a month since Alex was captured by the Al-Qatala as a prisoner of war. He had messed up an excusion while trying to find more intel on both Konni and Al-Qatala itself.

Alex was hung by his wrists with chains and shackles in one room. He had managed to endure most of the torture, despite being used as a punching bag for most days. Even having his prosthetic leg ripped off with the socket damaged didn't seem to faze him.

Only the barred window in the room revealed if it were day or night. Until it began to pick up more snow than usual, making the cold sting against Alex's shirtless body.

The sudden sound of gunshots began to ring out through the previously quiet hallways. Alex woke up groggily with the usual headache, listening to the calls in Farsi and Arabic, then being drowned out in English commands.

Soon, it all became silent as the door opened with a click. An Al-Qatala member opened the door with a rush, raising a pistol to Alex's head. It was barely another second before the Russian fell to the ground with a bullet in his head.

Farah revealed herself with a 1911 pistol. Laswell was by her side, quietly gasping at Alex's condition. "Price, we need those bolt cutters." Farah called out over the radio, who replied with a simple, "Rog."