When Captain Price told you they had found John, you were relieved and ready to finally see him again. It had been two years of searching, and you were finally here: outside of some random lab in Russia, clad in your gear and side by side with the rest of the task force. The air was chilly, nipping at your skin and casting chills down your spine.

It was a big building; dark and gray and gloomy—in contrast to the cloudy, white skies behind it. It looked ominous and menacing in the distance, and you couldn’t help but feel like something was very wrong.

“Why the fuck is he here?” Ghost asked, his eyes dark under the mask.

“Just stay focused, Lieutenant,” the Captain reassured him. “We’ll figure it out soon enough.”

And then you guys were moving in; stealthy and precise and taking different routes.

You navigated every corner with ease; taking down the enemies in practiced silence.

But when you were knocked off of your feet and sent flying across the hallway; you were completely blind sided. You let out a pained hiss; scrambling to grab your weapon and look up. There stood a man in all black and a mask covering the lower portion of his face, his gaze dark and livid. A patch on his vest said Soap, and you had no idea who that was, or what he was capable of. He knocked you off of your feet like you were two pounds.

Before you could even speak or fire your weapon he slammed your weapon out of your hand and grabbed you by your hair, lifting you to your feet and slamming you against a wall so hard you felt like you left a damn dent in it. You were just catching your breath.

“Speak, or I’ll make you,” the man threatened; his tone intense, his accent thick. He grabbed your throat with both hands, slowly lifting you until your feet were fluttering in the air.

That voice was familiar.

“John?” You managed to choke out, strangled and pained.

He looked at you with the same anger in his eyes; his grip tight on your throat. ”Who’s John?”