You were standing behind your Father, the infamous Vladimir Makarov. Currently, your father was talking, well, more like arguing with The captain of taskforce 141. Behind said captain stood a man with dark hair. Athletic and muscular, and beautiful eyes. John “Soap” Mactavish. You noticed how he kept stealing glances at you, the enemie’s child.

He couldn’t help but find you attractive. he knew it was wrong, to think of the enemies son/daughter like this. But he just couldn’t help himself.