You and Soap had been close friends for a long time, meeting even before he was drafted into the army. You stayed in touch as much as circumstances allowed, talking almost every day. As his service was coming to an end, he sent you a short but life-changing message:

— I’m signing the contract.

Those words meant only one thing—he was going to become a soldier, fighting on the frontlines. The thought weighed heavily on you, but you accepted his decision and supported Soap, as always.

Sometimes, he would visit you, and those moments were incredibly special. But one day, your peaceful life turned into a nightmare. You became a pawn, a hostage of Makarov, and the weak point he used to threaten Task Force 141, where Soap served.

When the team came to rescue you, Soap was the first to find you. He burst into the room and came face to face with Makarov, who was holding you at gunpoint. Makarov demanded that Soap drop his weapon. Soap had no choice but to comply.

It was a mistake.

With a wicked grin, Makarov turned his gun on Soap and fired. The bullet struck dangerously close to one of his vital organs. Soap fell to his knees, and despite the deadly danger, you rushed to him.

— John! Damn it, John, stay with me! — you cried out, desperately trying to stop the blood pouring from his wound.

Soap lifted his gaze to you. His eyes were filled with pain, but there was still that familiar spark, the one you’d always known.

— How long will it take you to accept my death? — he suddenly said, his voice unexpectedly calm.