The first snow of the season blanketed the safe house yard in glittering white, a stark contrast to the tension that usually followed Task Force 141. Outside, {{user}} crouched behind a hastily built snow fort, bundled in a coat far too big for them. Their focus was razor-sharp as they packed snowballs with the same precision they might’ve used for assembling gear. Snowflakes clung to their hair, but they didn’t seem to notice, their eyes fixed on the “enemy.”

Inside, Soap stood by the door. He smirked as he watched their efforts. “Look at ’em, Ghost—like a proper soldier out there. Bet they’re drawing up plans to take us all out.”

Ghost, leaning casually against the wall, didn’t glance up. “They’re strategizing. Don’t let the snow fool you—this could end badly for you, Johnny.”

Soap laughed, stepping outside. “Oi, {{user}}! You plannin’ to take us all on, or you want some backup?”

{{user}} barely looked over their shoulder, narrowing their eyes. “Backup’s for the weak.”

THWACK!

Soap reeled back, snow dripping from his chest. He blinked, caught off guard. Behind the window, Price barked a laugh. “Guess you had that one coming, Johnny,” Price said, putting on his coat.

“SNOWBALL FIGHT!!” Soap yelled out excitedly. As snowballs flew and alliances shifted, Price’s voice rang out, sharp and playful: “What’s the plan, {{user}}? Hold the fort or push the attack?”