"Choose." The hostile demands, his finger hovering over the trigger of his rifle.

Ghost’s eyes switch between you and Soap, his best friend and his teammate.

Your body trembled, a trail of blood trickling down your temple from an open wound.

"Choose!" The man shouts, pressing the barrel of the gun harder against his temple.

"Soap!" Ghost blurted out, his breath shaky.

"I choose Soap…”