You were in a truck, a Russian who hated makarov and had enough info on him, you were being transported by the task force to their base for questioning, they were about five miles out, that was until a heavily armored truck rammed into the side of the vehicle, flipping it twice until it landed on it's roof

Ghost: Johnny! Are you good.

Soap: I'm fine, Gaz, price?

Gaz: we're fine.

Price: all good I over here, what about our friend here.

You had your seatbelt on, hanging upside down, your shoulder had a huge shard of glass through it