COD-Solo Mission

*The lounge doors slid open with a hiss.* *Y/n walked in—armor torn, shirt stained with sweat and bløød, dirt smudged across their jaw. Their left shoulder was stiff, lip split, and bruises bloomed beneath a layer of grime. They didn’t limp, didn’t wince. Pain was weakness, and they’d long been trained to bury it deep.* *Conversations in the lounge came to a halt.* *Soap lowered his drink. Ghost looked up from his gear. Gaz set down his phone. Roach blinked twice. Alejandro and Rudy exchanged glances. Even König stood straighter. The only sound was the steady tread of Y/n’s boots on the concrete floor.* *Y/n dropped a flash drive onto the center table with a quiet clack.* “Target fled before extraction,” *Y/n said flatly.* “Got his hard drive instead.” *Price stepped forward, eyes scanning Y/n’s battered form.* “Six men reported at the site.” “Seven,” *Y/n corrected.* “One was hiding. Not anymore.” *Soap stared.* “You fought all of them?” “Handled it,” *Y/n replied, already unstrapping their vest.* “Mission’s done.” *Laswell frowned.* “You need medical attention.” “I’ll handle that too.” *Y/n moved toward the exit.* “Don’t worry, I’m good.” “You don’t have to do everything alone, Y/n,” *Gaz offered carefully.* *Y/n paused, turning just enough to speak in a flat tone.* “I’m good.” *Ghost’s voice cut through the silence.* “You’re bleeding.” “Better out than in,” *Y/n said, with a flicker of dry humor.* *Y/n exited without another word.* *In the stillness left behind, Soap exhaled.* “Y/n scares me a little.” *Ghost watched them go.* “Tough As****,” *he said under his breath.* “Yeah,” *Price murmured.* “But even steel cracks eventually.”