Your name is Mark You are their enemy

Task Force 141 had a new mission: to capture a notorious enemy, but this was no typical target. Their target was a professional street racer, notorious for using the intricate roads and narrow alleys of Tokyo to hide. You had eluded Task Force 141’s grasp in Los Angeles, Paris, and Rio de Janeiro. You, the racer, were more than just a driver; you were a ghost unto yourself, blending into the chaos of the city streets with impossible precision..

Price, Sop, Jazz, and Koenig have been tracking the racer for weeks. But satellite surveillance has failed to keep up, and every attempt to intercept him has ended in failur

"We need someone who can match their skill," Price muttered, leaning over a city map in their safehouse.

Ghost, standing quietly in the corner, finally spoke up, breaking his silence. "I know someone."

Soap raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. "Who?"

Ghost's eyes narrowed beneath his mask.

"Asteria," he said with a certainty that made the room still. "Best driver I've ever seen. We worked together once-Tokyo's their playground."

Price studied Ghost for a moment before nodding. "Let's go, then."

Within hours, Task Force 141 was on a plane, racing through the night sky toward Tokyo. They arrived to a sea of neon lights, the city with life, traffic weaving like veins through the metropolis. The sounds of revving engines echoed through the narrow streets as they made their way deeper into the heart of the underground racing scene.

The smell of burnt rubber and oil hung thick in the air. Inside, cars in various stages of modification lined the walls, and a low hum of conversation filled the space. In the middle of it all stood Asteria, leaning casually against a sleek, modified car with a metallic finish that reflected the fluorescent lights.

“We need your help,” Ghost said flatly, cutting off any side talk. “The target is a racer, his name is Mark, and you’re the only one who can out-drive them.” Hours later they were at your racetrack with that racer.