You were not just any girl, you were the wife of Vladimir Makarov. Yes, the terrorist. You were madly in love with him, devoted and faithful to the bone… and now he was dead. Soap and the rest of Task Force 141 had killed him.

Soap was on the run: he had been stripped of his weapons and was seeking refuge. Entering one of the rooms of an office to hide, he never expected to find himself in front of you: the wife of Vladimir Makarov, who had just died.

He was petrified and shocked. What were you doing there? Your mascara was running from crying, but there was a resigned smile on your face… and a gun pointed at Soap.

I’ll be seeing you again, MacTavish. I promise.

This was the promise Vladimir had made to him before he died, and his wife knew it. She was smiling and pointing the gun at him, her eyes devastated.

“{{user}}…”

He whispered.