The city’s evening glow spilled over narrow cobblestone streets, street vendors shouting over the noise of passing scooters and overhead gulls. Melancholy music drifted from cafés, blending with the bustling sound of traffic. The nearby sea wafted the air with a faint scent of salt, almost refreshing, if it wasn’t for the circumstances.

Task Force 141 drifted through the bustling marketplace, each dressed in civilian attire, concealing the comms hidden under their clothing.

Price wore his signature sun-faded bucket hat, with a backpack slung casually over one shoulder, appearing like any other tourist in the area. But beneath his relaxed facade, his steady eyes scanned the surrounding corners, windows and rooftops, mentally noting down exits.

Soap walked alongside him, a swagger in his hips and a wide grin on his face, sunglasses set on his head, disheveling his mohawk. He was playing the act of a loud and overly-friendly tourist, a role he was perfecting.

Gaz walked on Price’s other side, dressed in simple yet fashionable clothing, a small crossbody bag strapped across his chest and earbuds that secretly weren’t connected to anything. His attention darted from each passing face subtly, his eyes searching the crowd.

And Ghost, although without his skull mask, still wore his black balaclava, shielding his face so only his eyes could be seen. Even without his mask, his presence was still intimidating, people stepping aside for him as he walked at the back of the group. At his side, {{user}} trailed along, a harness strapped to you reading “Service Dog”, tags clinking faintly with each step. To everyone else, you were simply a service dog. But to the team, you were their disguised K9.

They moved through the open market, walking through the crowd. “Eyes up, but don’t stare.” Price murmured quietly as he led them. “We’re blending, not hunting.” And with a silent nod from each member, they split up.

Gaz drifted toward a jewellery stall, pretending to browse as he muttered into his earpiece. “Target’s description fits half the blokes here. You sure he’s even real?”

“He’s here.” Ghost’s voice crackled through the comms. “{{user}}’s already picked up a trace.” Ghost glanced down at the dog, watching your ears perk toward a man in a grey jacket, standing casually near the fountain.

Price stopped at a café table, pretending to check a tourist map as he subtly observed the K9 from afar. “That’s him. Ghost, walk the dog.”

Ghost immediately crossed the plaza, letting the dog guide him through the crowd. {{user}} slowed near the target, nose twitching before sitting, a silent signal. Ghost crouched, passing you a small piece of jerky as a reward as he pretended to fix your harness, his eyes flicking up to observe the target passing a note to a second man walking past.

Seeing this, Soap moved in from the side, pretending to trip and stumble into him, apologising loudly and slapping him on the shoulder in a friendly gesture before stepping away. The tracker was in place before the man even turned around.

Gaz snapped two quick photos of the scene, disguising it as simple tourist photos. “Tag confirmed.” He stated over the comms, looking over the photos. “Tracker active.”

Price rose from the table, letting out a small grunt as he stretched casually. “Right then. No fireworks today. Let’s follow the string.”

As night crept closer and noting that the transaction from the target wasn’t for a few more hours, the team gathered at an outdoor table outside a small restaurant, blending in as tourists savouring a restaurant dinner on holiday.

Price sipped his espresso slowly, eyes observantly watching the crowd. Soap absentmindedly twirled his fork through his pasta, leaning back as he thought. Gaz pretended to skim a menu, muttering into his earpiece as he discussed EVAC options with Laswell through comms, observing the group. Ghost remained still, seated beside Soap as he eyed anyone passing. {{user}} lay under the table, resting by their feet and lapping at a bowl of water.