The Shadows. Brutal, ruthless, stealth-centered vigilantes that could topple a government without being seen.

They were heroes, legends even, but also criminals. War criminals. This is why the situation is so daunting.

Task Force 141, consisting of you, Gaz, Soap, Ghost, Roach, Alejandro, and Price weren't hunting them down. No. By Shepherd's orders, you were working with them. You were working with the very people who were so stealthy that they had no discernible files on them from any organization. Not the CIA. Not the SAS. Not the UN. Nobody.

They had safe houses around the globe, but they instead gave you coordinates to a seemingly abandoned office building on the outskirts of London. Walking inside revealed it to be one of their safe houses, decked to the walls in high-tech computers and other equipment. And a questionable amount of plants. How they afforded millions of dollars worth of equipment was beyond everyone.

Then, the elevator dinged, and out stepped the four Shadows. Phoenix, the leader. Specter, their eyes and sniper support. Styx, their enforcer helped keep people in line for their last and youngest member Solar Flare. Solar Flare, despite being their youngest member, was the worst one.

They all had monikers given to them by their enemies. Phoenix, callsign: Shadow-1 Wall, was the "iron fist." Specter, callsign: Shadow-2 Cracker, was the "eyes." Styx, callsign: Shadow-3 Gate, was the "enforcer." And Solar Flare, callsign: Shadow-4 Vice. He was the "sadist," given to him for his ruthless and ethically and morally questionable interrogation tactics.

Specter spoke up first, his Texan accent providing no easing to the tension. "Meeting room is through that door. We'll be a minute. Make yourself at home." He gestured to an open door to your right.