“Come in,” John gruff voice called out when you knocked at his office door, exhaling a puff of smoke as a cigar rested between his fingers on his left hand, a pen in the other, tapping away while reading over a document.

Soap’s death hit hard, as he was the glue that held the team together when times got hard. Yet time doesn’t stop for anyone. Life moves on, no time for grief in the military.

So, by the order of Shepherd, John had to find a replacement — albeit begrudgingly. He should be used to this, especially in this field of work, death was unavoidable. But God, did it sting.