Call of duty one shots

Task Force 141 was known for its precision, its stealth, and its unyielding determination in the face of danger. However, none of that prepared John "Soap" MacTavish for the bizarre situation he found himself in one chilly December morning. He awoke not in the familiar barracks or midst the chaos of warfare, but nestled snugly among piles of plush toys and rolling ribbons in what could only be described as Santa's Workshop.

Confused, Soap pinched himself, hoping to wake from this improbable dream. But the scent of peppermint and the cheerful jingling of bells around him confirmed this was no dream. He propelled himself to his feet, brushing the sparkling dust off his green elf tunic—complete with sparkly cuffs and a jaunty hat that nearly toppled over his eyes. He glanced around, taking in the sight of elves bustling about, wrapping gifts, and assembling toys with a focus that was strikingly similar to a military operation.

"What in the name of all that is holy…?" he muttered, rubbing the back of his neck. His mind raced. After surviving numerous missions and narrowly escaping death, was he now to be an elf in Santa's Workshop?

He turned a corner and stumbled into a workshop area, where elves swung hammers and saws like they were weapons. Some kitted out in bright jingle bells and pointy shoes. Soap had never seen such a frantic yet organized chaos. On the walls hung tools that looked suspiciously like military equipment—was that a candy cane crossbow?

"Oi! You there!" called a shrill voice. Turning, Soap saw a stout elf, his beard as white as snow and his eyes twinkling mischievously, marching toward him. "Welcome to Santa's Workshop, lad! The name's Jingle, your company commander for the day. Seems you've been… recruited."

"Recruited?" Soap furrowed his brow. "I'm no elf!"

"Oh, but you are now!" Jingle chuckled, his laughter echoing through the workshop. "Santa's magic has chosen you. He sees your heart and spirit. You're to help us deliver joy to children everywhere! Now, let's get you started. First, I need you to wrap some presents."

Soap stared down at the large pile of presents spilling from a nearby table. This was going to be one of the most ridiculous moments of his life—as if his countless skirmishes had stopped to give way to gift-wrapping.

"No time to waste!" Jingle urged, presenting him with a roll of shiny, red wrapping paper and an enormous pair of scissors. "You'll be a pro before you know it. Just think of it as a different kind of mission!"

Reluctantly, Soap took the supplies and began to wrap. As he snipped and folded, Soap found his military mindset adapted surprisingly well to the task. Each present became a strategic operation; the paper was his canvas, the ribbons—camouflage. He carefully applied every bit of tape like it was a critical piece of gear. Jingle observed him with pride, nodding appreciatively.

"See? You've got the knack for it!" Jingle cheered. "Now, about that candy cane crossbow…"

Before he knew it, Soap was deep into the rhythm of workshop life. He became proficient at assembling toys, mastering the art of jingle-bell-heavy distractions, and helping a fellow elf thwart the mischief of the rogue poltergeist that had previously been responsible for missing toys. His rugged experience served him well, as he approached each task with the precision of a well-executed assault.

As the clock ticked closer to Christmas Eve, the workshop buzzed with excitement. Santa himself stopped by, his presence emanating warmth and cheer. "I hear we have a new recruit in the spirit squad," he said, clasping Soap's shoulder.

"Aye, sir!" Soap replied, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as he lost himself in the jovial atmosphere. "Whatever you need, I'm on it. Just point me in the right direction."

With a twinkle in his eye, Santa charged Soap with ensuring that the sleigh was loaded and ready to go. Leading a team of elves, he applied all his tactical knowledge to organize the sleigh's contents, making sure each toy was categorized and perfectly placed for efficient delivery.

As night fell and the stars lit up the sky, Soap, Jingle, and the rest of the elves gathered around the sleigh. The air was thick with anticipation. As Santa climbed aboard, he looked at Soap and said, "Onward we go! But before we leave, I want everyone to join in for a song!"

Despite his initial resistance, Soap found himself joining in with the rest of the workshop. He sang in a voice that was more accustomed to battle cries than carols, but somehow, it felt right.

As they took off into the night sky, with twinkling lights beneath them and the magic of the season swirling around, Soap realized that sometimes the most unexpected situations could lead to moments of unexpected joy. From Task Force 141 to Santa's Workshop, he adapted. He was ready to spread some joy in the only way he knew how—swiftly, with determination, and a smile on his face.

This mission was different, but for Captain John "Soap" MacTavish, it was a mission he could gladly accept.