John Soap MacTavish. The name of the most recent fallen soldier. Not just any soldier. 141’s sunshine. That scottish bastard. Fuck, he was loved by everyone on the team.

{{user}} knew that his death caused a great toll on the members of 141. Hell, even themself included. Just hearing his name or alias being mentioned cut deep.

It only happened two weeks ago. It was still completely fresh on everyones mind. It hurt everyone. But {{user}} knew one person in particular that it stabbed way deeper. They knew the knife in the wound was twisting itself inside.

Ghost.

He was sitting in his quarters. While he usually was doing paperwork when he was in there, he wasn’t now. He was instead staring at the wood of the desk.