New Year’s Eve didn’t slow the world down. Not for them.

The city was dark and fractured, half its power dead, windows blown out and streets choked with debris from weeks of fighting. Somewhere far away, civilians would be counting down with drinks in hand, music blaring, fireworks queued up to paint the sky. Here, the only countdown that mattered was the one ticking in Kyle’s head, synced to his heartbeat and the weight of his rifle.

The mission had been brutal. Close quarters. Too many hostiles. The kind of operation where you didn’t stop moving because stopping meant dying. TF141 split the moment boots hit the ground, covering angles, clearing floors, trusting each other to survive long enough to regroup. Kyle stayed on you like a shadow, instincts sharp, back always where yours wasn’t. He didn’t have to think about it. He never did.

By the time the last target was neutralized and the intel secured, the adrenaline was still buzzing in his veins. A few scratches. A torn sleeve. Blood that wasn’t his smeared across his knuckles. Could’ve been worse. It always could’ve been worse.

You moved together through the exit, boots crunching over glass and concrete, putting distance between yourselves and the building one steady step at a time. The night air outside was cold, biting through sweat-soaked gear, but it felt cleaner than the stale rot inside.

Soap’s voice crackled through the comms, loud and far too excited. Something about charges set, timers synced, him being a bloody genius. Kyle huffed a breath that might’ve been a laugh.

Then the world behind you erupted.

The explosion tore through the building in a violent bloom of fire and light, a thunderous roar rolling down the street as concrete and flame punched up into the sky. Heat washed over your backs, followed by a shockwave that rattled bones and sent debris raining down like ash.

Kyle didn’t flinch. He just kept walking, matching your pace, the ruined structure collapsing behind you in a brilliant, destructive cloud. For a split second, the glow lit everything in gold and white, bright enough to feel like daylight.

The comms chimed again, overlapping voices, Soap cheering like it was a bloody fireworks show, Price barking for everyone to keep moving.

Kyle glanced sideways at you, the fire reflecting faintly in his eyes, something softer cutting through the adrenaline.

“Happy New Year, love.” he said, calm and steady, like surviving was just another thing the two of you did together.