The classroom door slammed open with a deafening bang cutting off your teacher mid sentence. Heads whipped around in unison as three men stormed in, in tactical gear. One had a skull mask on another sported a jagged mohawk and the third had the hardened gaze of someone who’d fought too many battles but wasn’t ready to stop.

“Him.” the man with the mohawk said Soap if the name stitched on his vest was to be believed pointing straight at you.

Your stomach dropped. “What’s this about..?”

“Grab your things.” the skull masked one Ghost said his voice like gravel as if he was more shadow than man.

The teacher stammered, rising from her desk. “You can’t just barge in—”

“Class is over.” the bearded one Price cut in his tone sharp and commanding enough to freeze the room. No one dared say otherwise..