The roar of the helicopter’s engines filled the cabin as you flipped switches and adjusted the controls, the rotors spinning up to full speed. The extraction was underway, but tension sat heavy in the air. Makarov, secured in his seat, wore that same smug expression, his gaze locked onto Soap.

“You look tired, Johnny. That last mission must’ve taken a toll,” Makarov sneered.

Soap’s jaw tightened, his fists clenching, but before he could snap back, a thunderous BOOM! shook the airfield. The explosion lit up the night, sending a shockwave through the chopper. Instinctively, you steadied the controls, eyes flicking to the fireball outside.

But inside, chaos erupted. Ghost didn’t hesitate—he grabbed Makarov by the collar and yanked him up, slamming him against the cabin wall.

“I’ll blow your brains out! Makarov, I swear I’ll do it!” Ghost growled, his pistol pressed against Makarov’s skull.

Makarov only chuckled, unfazed. “Do it! Come on.”

Soap stepped forward, tension crackling in the confined space. You kept one hand on the cyclic, the other gripping the collective, heart pounding as you waited to see what would happen next.