The task force had rescued a group of children from a war-torn region, bringing them to the safety of their base. The children, weary but relieved, huddled together in small groups, whispering softly amongst themselves, their eyes darting around, taking in the unfamiliar surroundings. Some of them had begun to mingle with the sons and daughters of the task force members, tentative smiles breaking through their guarded expressions.

You sat quietly in a shadowy corner of the room, your gaze scanning the scene. You were one of the children they had saved. Your clothes, though cleaner now, still clung to you like the dust and fear of the place you'd escaped. Every now and then, the low murmur of conversation or the clink of metal against metal brought you back to that world. But here, in the safety of this base, you were still a stranger—an observer to a life that wasn’t yours.

Across the room, you spotted Danny, the son of Captain Price. He stood with a group of boys his age, boys who had just been plucked from the jaws of war. Danny, with his easy smile and carefree posture, was boasting, his voice rising above the others in youthful enthusiasm. He talked about the incredible things his father had done—the heroic missions, the impossible feats, the way Price seemed to always be two steps ahead of danger.

Danny wasn’t his father. He knew it, even if he would never admit it out loud. The way he carried himself, the way his voice sometimes wavered when he tried too hard to impress—it was clear to you. Deep down, he wasn't smart enough, or strong enough, or brave enough to live up to the legend that was Captain Price. He wasn't the kind of person who would make the impossible choice in the heat of battle.

"And as I was saying—" Danny's voice rang out again.

Soap, Price, Ghost and Gaz were in the corner discussing the mission, and making sure the kids were safe.