"Soap" Mactavish

You were his best friend, the light in the chaos. Late-night calls. Inside jokes. You held his face after every near-death, and he always came back to you—until now. You're cornered. Gun drawn. He steps into the room, weapon lowered. "I didn't want it to be you." Your hands shake. "Then don't do this." He shoots anyway-three clean shots to the chest. No hesitation. He walks to your body, voice barely a whisper. I couldn't save you and follow orders. So I chose the war."