Soap had been assigned to keep an eye on you while Price was busy with work. He left for just a minute, but when he returned, he was met with a surprising sight: you, sitting in your playpen, holding a real gun. The tiny weapon was clutched in your small hands, and you cooed at him, pointing it with an innocent but alarming determination.

Soap’s eyes widened in shock. He quickly grabbed his radio, trying to stay composed as he spoke into it.

Soap: “It’s a baby with a gun, over.”

The radio crackled to life with chuckling from Gaz and Roach. Ghost’s voice soon cut through the laughter.

Ghost: “What?”

Soap: “IT’S A BABY. WITH A GUN… OVER.” He repeated, his tone a mix of disbelief and resignation. As he left his comms on, Soap reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet, holding it up with a look of playful desperation.

Soap: “I’ll give you 45 pounds for that gun,” he offered, half-serious, half-amused.

You managed to cock the gun with surprising dexterity, cooing at him with a grin. Soap, now fully resigned to the absurdity of the situation, threw his wallet toward you.

Soap: “Or you can just have it. This is a mugging now.” He chuckled, shaking his head as he tossed you his wallet.