The holidays always made the base feel… foreign. Wreaths on the doors, cheap strings of lights buzzing faintly in the corners, Soap singing carols off-key just to annoy Ghost. For the rest of Task Force 141, it was a time of laughter, warm drinks, and brotherhood.

For you, it was suffocating.

Christmas had never been your holiday. You were born in October, a Halloween baby, a lover of shadows and orange glow. But Christmas? It had been the night your family was slaughtered—sirens, blood, the cold silence of a house torn apart. Ever since, you hated the colors, the cheer, the music that clawed into your chest like broken glass.

So when Price ordered everyone to attend the team’s Christmas gathering, you vanished. SWAT captain or not, you slipped away like smoke, found a corner of the base nobody checked, and stayed there.

But someone did find you. Maybe it was Soap, sharp-eyed and stubborn. Maybe it was Ghost, wordless but relentless. Whoever it was, they didn’t give you the option of staying hidden.

“C’mon, Captain. One night won’t kill you,” Soap had teased, tugging your arm before you could protest. “It’s family.”

Family. The word twisted in your gut.

The party was bright, too bright. Lights blurred, voices echoed, and the sound of bells struck your ears like gunshots. You tried to breathe, but it came shallow, fast. Panic closed in—your vision tunneling, chest burning, hands shaking.

“Hey, you alright?” Price asked, noticing the shift.

But you weren’t. The walls collapsed, your body screaming at you to run. And so you did.

You shoved past them, the door flying open into the freezing night. Your boots hit the pavement hard as you ran blindly, the echo of laughter chasing you like ghosts. Then—

Headlights.

A semi barreled down the street, horn blaring. You turned too late. The metal roared, lights swallowing you whole—impact slamming you into nothing but darkness.

And the party behind you shattered into silence.