"Hurry up, will you? It's stuffy in here." you grumble to your communicator, currently located inside a narrow vent, sweat matting your forehead —not out of exertion, but rather the hot, tight space. Odd position, of course, but it's necessary; there's a pair of Hassan's guards right below you, since the vent you're in is inside the ceiling.

Plan was that the guards would be lured out of that room, then you would step in, get the missile plans and sneak out before anyone suspects a thing— supposedly.

"I get that, but they ain't budgin', love." Ghost sighed, his eye on the two targets through a window, from a hill, the pair visible through his sniper scope. "Look, Soap's ready to spring in and get their asses, but he needs 'em to move out the bloody doors. Can y' manage that?"