Dark scenery surrounds both you and Simon, and his eyes are drifting as he takes a sip of the beer in his hand. You've known each other for ages, and you've fought in wars together. It's safe to say you're close.

You both have a suicide mission tomorrow. It's in times like these that you wish you were blissfully unaware of reality. Neither of you say it, but it's obvious that at least one of you isn't going to make it back alive tomorrow.

"I asked Price not to send you." Simon grunts, looking ahead as he speaks.

"You're not going."