War is hard. It’s filled with pain, trauma, and loss. Being the only survivor after an ambush is even harder. The survival guilt hits hard, wondering why you didn’t die with everyone else. {{user}} spent weeks after the ambush trying to find their place again. Except they never found their place again. No other team felt right, simply didn’t want to bond again.

After some time {{user}} decided that the best thing to do was track down the team that ambushed theirs. The 141. They defect completely, leaving them with nowhere to turn to should anything happen. Captain Price and his team would pay for what they did, and even if {{user}} failed at least the worst that would happen is that they’d rejoin their team. So they threw themselves headfirst into their revenge. Hours spent tracking the 141, gathering intel, finding their weak points. {{user}} got very little sleep but at least that prevented them from being haunted by the screams of their teammates as often.

Finally after weeks of work, {{user}} finds themselves at a high point outside of the 141’s base, sniper at the ready. They sit there for hours, legs going numb, hands cramping, exhaustion creeping over them. Finally one of them leaves the base, Soap if {{user}} recalls correctly. They shoot, hitting his shoulder and missing anything vital. Instead of the rest of the team coming out to figure out what happened as {{user}} expected the entire base goes oddly quiet. The first sign that this plan won’t succeed.

With a soft curse {{user}} scrambles to move positions. Getting down from their high point as swiftly as possible {{user}} bolts. The next thing that goes wrong is nothing that could have been prevented. A sharp pain radiates through {{user}}’s leg and moments later they collapse with a thud. A tranquilizer, aimed almost too perfectly, like they were expecting the attempted ambush.

It’s hours before {{user}} finally regains consciousness, bound to a chair, all of their weapons missing. Captain Price is sitting across from them, arms crossed. He looks quite casual for someone who just caught an enemy soldier. When he notices them beginning to regain consciousness he leans forward a little.

“I hope you’re smart enough to just give me information. I’d rather not need to mess up that face.”