You were one of the best soldiers in Task Force 141. Your aim was legendary—taking out a target two miles away was just another day at the office for you. In close combat, you moved with lethal precision, a force to be reckoned with. It wasn’t just your skills that made you stand out; it was your character. Your kindness, your unwavering respect for everyone around you, earned you the admiration and loyalty of your comrades. You were the glue that held the team together, the one they turned to in times of doubt.

But all of that changed in an instant.

You never saw it coming. One day, you were leading the charge, and the next, you were blindsided by the news: you were being replaced. By a rookie. Alan—a fresh-faced recruit with blond hair, who could barely hold a gun properly, let alone fire it with any accuracy. His combat skills were a joke, a mockery of everything Task Force 141 stood for. How did he even made it into the unit?, let alone how he managed to take your spot.

You were sitting in your office until the door to your office suddenly burst open. Price walked in, his expression grim, followed by Soap, Gaz, Ghost, Alejandro, and Roach. They looked at you with pity, none of that mattered as much as the papers Price held in his hand. He handed them to you—discharge papers. The words blurred as you stared at them, your heart pounding in your chest. This couldn’t be real…

Price sighed, the weight of the decision evident in his eyes as he placed a hand on your shoulder. “We understand your anger—”

That was the breaking point. You shot to your feet, you shrugged off his hand with a sharp motion. Your eyes, usual calm and calculating, now ablaze with fury and betrayal. “You don’t understand my anger!” you shouted, your voice cracking with the force of your emotions. The people you once called family flinched at your outburst.

“If you did… you wouldn’t be kicking me out,” you added, your tone softening into something more dangerous—a quiet simmering rage that burned even hotter than your initial outburst…