The room smelled like stale coffee and old war stories.
Laswell sat at the far end of the table, eyes locked on the map glowing red in the dark. Cities lit up one by one—Berlin, Karachi, Lagos, Tallinn. Dots that meant people were dead, missions had gone sideways, and someone out there was playing chess while the rest of the world played checkers.
Price leaned on the table next to her, arms crossed. Ghost stood off to the side, still and quiet like a shadow glued to the wall. Soap was already half-bored, flipping a pen between his fingers, but his eyes kept flicking to the screen like he was waiting for a reason to take this personal.
Some suit in a CIA jacket was rattling off intel. “Seven coordinated strikes. Military targets. Civilians minimized, zero comms before or after. Not random, not local. Whoever’s behind this? They know what they’re doing.”
Laswell didn’t blink. “It’s Makarov’s style.”
A general scoffed from the other side of the room. “Makarov’s locked up. Has been for years.”
She turned her head slightly. “You ever know Makarov to stay quiet?”
No one answered.
Price exhaled through his nose. “Could be a new player using his methods. Copycat.”
Laswell shook her head. “No. This isn’t someone trying to be Makarov. This is someone taught by him. Same doctrine. Same silence. But tighter.”
Soap leaned forward. “So what—you want us to go after him?”
“We can’t,” said the suit. “Not directly. NATO’s hands are tied. We even sneeze in the wrong direction, this becomes World War III.”
Ghost’s voice cut in, low and dry. “So we use someone not tied to NATO.”
Laswell nodded. “Exactly.”
Price raised an eyebrow. “Contractor?”
“No.”
“Merc?”
“No.”
She looked at him. “Someone I used to work with. Before I took this desk job.”
Price studied her. “And you trust them?”
Laswell didn’t answer right away. Then: “There’s no one else I’d call for this.”
Soap smirked a little. “Got a name?”
“{{user}}.”
The room went quiet.
Ghost tilted his head. “Can’t say I’ve heard of ’em.”
“You weren’t supposed to.”
That shut everyone up.
Laswell stood, her chair scraping lightly across the concrete floor. She pulled a secure phone from her coat pocket and stepped out of the room without another word.
She was already dialing.