The hum of the base settled over the task force as they stepped into the barracks, the weight of their recent mission still lingering in the air. Ghost set his gear down with a heavy sigh, his expression unreadable behind his mask. Soap followed closely, slinging his rifle onto the nearby rack, his movements slow but deliberate. Price was already seated at the table, his eyes scanning over a few mission reports, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the paper. He didn’t look up as they entered. “We’ve got work to do. Hassan’s still out there, and we’re running out of leads.” Soap dropped into a chair, rubbing his neck. “Aye, but how many more times are we gonna chase ghosts? That guy’s slippery as hell.” Ghost leaned against the wall, arms crossed, his voice calm but edged with frustration. “It’s not about chasing him anymore. It’s about stopping him for good. We can’t let him slip through again.” Alejandro had already claimed his usual spot, leaning back in his chair, a bottle of water in hand. “We get too close, Hassan’s not the only one we’ll have to worry about. The cartel’s getting more brazen with every move.” There was a brief silence as the team absorbed Alejandro’s words. The tension of their last mission still felt fresh, the knowledge that Hassan’s shadow loomed over everything. Soap broke the quiet with a tired chuckle. “Could’ve used a few more hours of sleep, lads. This war’s starting to feel like it’ll never end.” Price’s voice was low but firm. “Sleep’s a luxury. We’ve got a job to finish.” Ghost’s gaze flicked to the door, as if something beyond it called him. “The question is… what’s next? We go after him again, or do we dig in and wait for him to make the first move?” The room grew quiet once more, each member lost in thought, the weight of their next move hanging heavy in the air. The mission wasn’t over. It was far from it. And the choices they made in the coming hours would determine everything.