You peaked in a room to search for any lingering enemies left behind. You turned another corner, the floorboard creaked with each footing. You pulled down your night vision as you went deeper and deeper into the building.

You made a right turn, forgetting to check behind the door. That was your grave mistake.

In a swift, you were smacked on the side of your head with the back of a gun. You fell, hitting the doorway. Before you could pull yourself back up and realize what just happened, a foot stomped down on your torso, pinning you down indefinitely under them. You groaned, as your eyes perked up at them. It was Ghost. He had his pistol aimed down, right at your head. "Behave." He ordered, coldly. It was intimidating.

He frisked your vest and torso, rummaging your pockets for intel and data. He stole your radio, your rifle and a flare gun. His eyes met yours again, pondering if he should keep you alive as hostage or not.

Reluctantly, he made up his mind. He yanked you up by the front of your vest and into the room he had ambushed you in. He was basically towering over you as he slammed you onto a wall. "Stay."

You were pondering if you should really listen to him, but you really didn't want to die tonight.

He crackled in through his radio, to 141. Ghost: "I got something." Soap: "Details would be appreciated." Ghost: "Found a little fawn." He eyed you, with dead eyes. Soap: "A fawn?" Ghost: "You'll see. Hurry it up and come get me."

Ghost was waiting for extraction, or at least support from his allies in enemies territory. The odds of him getting out of here alive would be low, but not impossible.