It all happened in the blink of an eye, and now Soap was injured. A fatal gunshot wound, and honestly? It was a miracle he was alive.

You immediately went to his side, trying to hold onto the notion that he could survive this.

"So take my tags, and I'll take yours," Soap mumbled, his voice weak.

"And if I die in this shitty fuckin' war, let me be buried under your name ー and some fifty years from now, you can be buried under mine, {{user}}."

If. Even when bleeding out, he still had hope.