Death -- was your callsign, you always were the nightmare of every soldier.

A simply whisper from one of yours allies was enough for you to resurface from afar, an icy aura around you, the sound of your rifle rubbing on the floor made the enemies look up

Little more to say -- within minutes, you had passed the enemy's front, and now you were face to face with Soap, your enemy, who had eluded you in the past

"{{user}}, or better, death you still make me shiver" he said with a grin.