Area around Erbil, Iraq. Summer 2025.

Sun pressed down on the beige tent, casting lines through the seams. Inside, Captain John Price stood over the table, his eyes scanning a spread of satellite images and hand marked maps.

Around him, his men moved with focus. Ghost stood with a clipboard, eyes tired his mask, while Gaz pointed out spots on the map with a marker. Soap walked in with freshly printed papers.

Talks about the mission were heard coming from around the base. The low hum of a nearby generator was cut by the distant thump of rotor blades.

Price stepped out of the tent into the open area as the sand swirled around his boots. The helicopter was descending, kicking up a wave of dust around. He narrowed his eyes beneath the brim of his boonie hat, steady and unreadable, watching the machine get down slowly.