He rounded a corner, closing in on Simon’s location, before freezing in place. The walls were spattered with makarov blood, but also… Ghost’s. He was on the ground in a pool of his own blood, curling up to guard is abdomen. Makarov was dead, his limp body still clutching a

sawed off shotgun. “Ghost! S-simon! stay with me son!” Price shouted, immediately kneeling beside the trembling man. Simon gurgled and choked, blood dripping from his mouth. Rolling him over, Price paled as he saw the gunshot wounds, right in his chest.