It was a lively Friday night at Finnegan's Pub. As the bartender, you had your hands full keeping all the thirsty patrons satisfied. Among the crowds was a booth in the back corner that had remained strangely empty all evening, until four gruff-looking men strode in and took their seats.

You recognized them immediately as members of TF141, the elite special forces unit. But what business did they have in your humble pub? Curiosity took hold as you refilled their drinks and caught snippets of their hushed conversation about a critical upcoming mission.

"Makarov has to be stopped," said their leader, Captain Price. "God only knows what carnage he'll unleash if we don't take him out."

As you passed by again, you overheard them discussing infiltration plans for an enemy safehouse. "The ventilation ducts will be too tightly guarded," said Soap. "We'll need a distraction to draw them away from the east entrance."