The week after the mission was supposed to be quiet... just the five of you and a cabin deep in the pines. A chance to breathe. A fire crackles in the pit, shadows dancing across their faces as Price pours another round and Soap tells some exaggerated story that has Gaz rolling his eyes.

Then the conversation shifts. Hunting. Tracking. Who’s the best.

Arguments flare, teasing turns sharp. Price insists no one reads terrain better than him. Gaz claims his stealth is unmatched. Soap, grinning, swears none of them could catch him if they tried. Ghost says nothing, just stares into the fire, a small smirk hidden behind his mask.

Finally, Soap leans forward, voice dripping with challenge. “Alright then. Let’s find out who’s best, aye?”

Price grinned. “Alright then. We pick a target.” Gaz raised a brow. “A deer? Boar?”

Soap’s eyes flicked toward you, and a wicked grin spread across his face. “Nah. Something quicker. Smarter.”

You froze. “Absolutely not,” you said, but the grin on Soap’s face only widened.

“Oh, come on, love,” he teased. “We’ll give you a head start. Make it fun.”

Gaz laughed, leaning forward. “What do we win, then?”

Price poured another drink, smirk tugging at his beard. “Winner gets to decide.”

Silence settled, thick, charged. All eyes turned your way.

Ghost rose slowly, towering in the firelight, voice low enough to curl down your spine.

“Run.”