The five members of Task Force 141 stealthily made their way through the dense forest under cover of night. They had trained extensively for this moment, when all their intel would come to a head. Ghost took point, his night vision goggles cutting through the darkness. Ahead, the faint glow of lights emanated from beneath the trees - their target location.

Price raised a hand, signalling the team to halt. They had arrived at the edge of the forest overlooking Makarov's remote hideout. A sprawling two-story farmhouse sat nestled in a clearing, with several outbuildings and a few vehicles. Armed sentries patrolled the perimeter fences, AK-47s in hand.

"Looks like our intel was right. I count at least six tangos outside," Soap whispered.