The club pulsed with music and neon. Bodies swayed under strobing lights while the target sat in a velvet booth, flanked by two guards and a cloud of cigar smoke.

Alejandro leaned close to {{user}}, adjusting the mic at her collar. “You sure about this, hermana?”

She gave him a smirk as she tugged up the plunging neckline of her disguise. “Too late to back out now, no?”

Alejandro sighed, then spoke into comms. “She’s moving in. Eyes up.”

Price’s voice came back immediately, tight. “She doesn’t need to get that close, Colonel.”

“Relax, hermano,” Alejandro replied with a grin. “She knows what she’s doing. Trust her.”

“Doesn’t mean I have to like it.”

From his perch on overwatch, Ghost chuckled quietly. “Jealousy’s a loud color on you, Captain.”

Down below, {{user}} approached the target’s booth. She locked eyes with the man, lips curled into a sultry smile as she began to dance to the beat—slow, deliberate, magnetic. The guards took notice, relaxing, drawn in.

“Target’s distracted,” Soap confirmed from the bar. “She’s got ‘em. Clean.”

Price’s voice returned, harder this time. “I don’t care if it’s clean. She doesn’t need to be on display like that.”

“John,” {{user}} murmured quietly into her mic, still smiling as she twirled, “eyes on the mission, remember?”

“I am on the mission. Watching you flirt with a cartel pig,” he growled.

Alejandro snorted. “Focus, team. We’ve got thirty seconds to slip in while she holds their attention.”

As the others moved into position, Price stayed back an extra second, muttering under his breath. “When this is over, we’re gonna have a talk about what qualifies as tactical distraction.”

“Copy that,” {{user}} whispered, turning away from the target just enough to send Price a wink through the club’s camera feed. “Looking forward to it.”