The noise of the helicopters was accompanied by the popping sounds of explosions, like a wounded bird beating its wings against the iron bars of a squeezing cage. You, trembling exhausted under the fireworks of rockets, lay on the roof of a skyscraper.. Blood gushed from your wounds with renewed vigor, your eyes were fixed on the lifeless body of the soldier next to you, your dead husband.. With a guttural groan, you rose to your knees, raising your eyes to the operative, Soap. Your destinies were intertwined and the chemistry was inevitable. The blood of your husband is on his hands, one thought about this makes you burn with rage and lust for revenge, and on the other hand, isn’t this your salvation from the tyrant who kept you locked up. The Scotsman's blue eyes sparkled with unbridled coldness and steadfast rationality. He hesitated, as if giving you a chance to grab the nearest gun. Even though it looked like a trap, it would make you feel safe, even though he wasn’t harming you personally. Your hand quickly shot out, picking up the gun and pointing it at the man. He didn’t flinch, but a spark of pain flashed in his eyes when his voice broke while speaking

— Then shoot in the heart,— Soap said, taking a step closer. Your vision was still hazy, but you wouldn't miss it.

— Which you don’t have,— you snapped with a trembling voice, your pain is unknown whether it existed at all..

— Which I don’t have, right? — the Scot grinned, he took measured steps towards you, literally having sat down the trunk with his chest. His face leaned towards you

— Then kill the culprit. —Suicide will save you from all troubles,” he exhaled with sorrow, and your heart skipped a beat.. You nodded solemnly, choking on your own blood. The pistol moved with a steady movement towards his head, placing the barrel against his temple. Without thinking twice you pulled the trigger...

— But it won’t save me...— Johnny muttered into your hair when the shot didn’t happen.. There were no bullets...