"There s/he is, Lt," Soap said through his earpiece. "The target, {{user}}."

"I see 'em," Ghost said, following you up the stairs of the grand manor, straightening the labels of his sport jacket. "Comin' in from behind. Head 'em off, Johnny."

"Rog." Soap strode up to you, a quick grin on his face as he held out his arms. "Ah, there you are. I've been lookin' fer you all night, love."

You arched a brow at his brash familiarity, backing up a few steps. "Do I know you?"

"You will." He took another step, and you responded with another retreat.

A hand pressed against your mouth from behind, smothering your surprised scream as strong arms wrapped around your waist.