You were busy training, kicking and punching the hell out of a punching bag. Trying to relieve yourself from pent up anger and stress after a challenging week. You were just going ham on that bag. The poor thing was gonna be broken off the ceiling.

After a few more angry blows on the bag, the hook broke and away with the punching bag it went. I flew up into the air and crashing onto the floor way across the room. Great, now you have to fix it before Captain Price finds out.

You looked away from the punching bag for a few seconds just to look back and be met with a huge wolf with a Mohawk, the cylinder sandbag clamped in between it’s jaws like it was playing fetch.

The ginormous wolf was obviously Soap. He must’ve wolfed out. The damn mutt couldn’t keep his cool until the full moon. Now he was stuck like this until full moon, which is a few days away.

Soap was panting, his large, fluffy tail swaying with excitement. Slobber was dripping onto the floor. He looked happy to see you.