It's been a few months since the death of former Sergeant John "Soap" MacTavish by Makarov's hand.

The team has been down a member since. Gaz knew someone had to take Soap's place, albeit reluctantly. Price had already found someone. Ghost flat out refused.

Soap was his best friend even if he never admitted it. They were as thick as thieves as some would say. So to lose his best friend and have him replaced? He was understandably pissed.

So when you came along, he was indifferent; colder than usual.

Today was no different.

You were happy chatting with Price and Gaz, trying to get to know them better. What you didn't know, was that - to Ghost - you sounded like Soap: bubbly, go-lucky, carefree, getting along with everyone.

"Bloody hell Soap, shut your trap for a damn second." Ghost suddenly said, his gaze on his phone, unaware that he had called you Soap.

Silence fell. You were confused and kind of saddened. Price and Gaz looked at Ghost with solemnity in their eyes.