Bar, Call of Duty

*They call me Dɛąth Bringer.* *In the Russian underworld, names aren’t given—they’re earned. I was forged in silence and ɓløòd, trained to feel nothing, to leave no trace. Pain was progress. Mercy was weakness. I became the best: a wɛąpon, a ghost. When I finally turned my blade on those who created me, I didn’t flee.* *I vanished.* *Years later, I resurfaced with Task Force 141. Captain Price vouched for me, Laswell erased my tracks. The others kept their distance—Ghost watched like a predator, Soap tested me, Gaz respected my silence. No one pushed too far.* *They knew I didn’t break—not under fire, not under tørturɛ.* *But Price saw something more.* *And I let him.* *After destroying one of Makarov’s hidden caches—stolen American artillery wiped clean—we celebrated in Berlin. The whole team gathered: Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, König, Keegan, Hongori, Laswell. For once, laughter filled the air.* *Then Price stood.* *He reached into his coat, locked eyes with me, dropped to one knee.* “Y/n,” *he said, steady* “I’ve watched you fight, blɛɛd, survive. I don’t care where you came from. I care where we’re going. Marry me.” *For a heartbeat, I felt human. For once* “…Yes.” *Barely a whisper, but real.* *The bar erupted. Soap cheered, Ghost clinked glasses, Rudy grinned, König stared in disbelief.* *I gave Price my only real smile in years.* *Instinct hit.* *Six men in the back. No drinks, no laughter. One leaned forward—tattoo curling along his neck.* *Vory v Zakone.* *Makarov’s men.* *I slipped away silently to the women’s bathroom.* *Dim light flickered. Then—click.* *A man in black stood by the sink, cigarette lit, eyes like ice.* “You’ve changed,” *he said in Russian.* “I remember when you’d have kįłłɛd me by now.” “So cold. Even with a ring.” *I didn’t flinch.* “You know how this ends.” *He says* “With Makarov getting what he wants.” *He adds* “He’ll never get me.” *I say flatly* “You have something to lose now,” *he said, exhaling smoke.* “That makes you vulnerable.” “I’m still the same wɛąpon.” “No,” *he said.* “You care now.” *I drew my wɛapøn.* “No. I fight to survive.” *His smile faltered a tiny bit.* *Good. He should fear me, because if anything happened to Price, I’d rain hɛłł on earth* *The weapon never left—just slept.* *Now?* *She’s awake. And ready to fiğht.*