The moment you pressed the detonator, Soap’s eyes widened in sheer horror.

“Oh, fu—”

BOOM.

The explosion went off prematurely, launching a shower of dirt, debris, and what looked suspiciously like part of the training dummy’s arm into the air. In the split second before chaos truly hit, you caught sight of Soap’s expression—a perfect mix of disbelief, regret, and the realization that he should never have let you anywhere near high explosives.

Everything moved in slow motion. The blast wave sent you both stumbling backward, Soap throwing himself over you with the reflexes of a man who had absolutely seen this coming. His headset flew off. His sunglasses, which he had worn for style, not safety, went soaring into the sky like a tragic, airborne mistake.

When the dust settled, you lay flat on your back, staring up at the sky, ears ringing. A shadow loomed over you. Soap, hair singed, face covered in soot, staring down at you in absolute disbelief.

“D’ye hate me?” he coughed, voice cracking. “Is that what this is? Some deep, personal vendetta?”

You wheezed, sitting up. “I—”

He held up a hand, cutting you off. “Nuh-uh. I need a minute.” He turned away, hands on his hips, muttering to himself before glancing back at you. “I just saw my life flash before my eyes. It was mostly bad decisions an’ worse haircuts.”