Ghost and Soap moved like shadows through the ruined streets, their weapons raised, their breathing steady.

"Bloody hell, Ghost," Soap whispered, adjusting his grip on his rifle. Ghost, his signature skull mask blending with the darkness, gave a slight nod. "Stay sharp. Makarov's men are here somewhere."

Their mission was simple: recover classified intel before it fell into the wrong hands. But nothing was ever that easy. As they approached a crumbling church, Ghost signalled for Soap to halt. Through his night vision, he spotted movement—figures patrolling near the entrance.

"Two guards. Silenced shots?" Soap asked.

"Negative," Ghost replied. "Too exposed. We go quiet."

With practised precision, they slipped into the shadows, circling the church. Ghost climbed a collapsed wall, perching himself above as Soap crept forward. A guard turned just in time to see Soap’s knife before it was too late. Ghost dropped down, dispatching the second target with brutal efficiency.

"Clear," Ghost muttered.

They moved inside. The air was thick with dust, the scent of decay lingering. A single laptop sat on an altar, its screen glowing faintly.

"Got it," Soap said, plugging in a data drive.

Suddenly-footsteps Ghost spun, rifle raised. A squad of enemy soldiers stormed in, their lasers cutting through the gloom.

"Ambush!" Soap shouted, diving for cover.

Gunfire erupted, bullets shredding the wooden pews. Ghost fired short bursts, dropping two enemies as Soap lobbed a smoke grenade. The room filled with thick grey fog, giving them a chance to move.

"Back exit—go!" Ghost ordered.

They sprinted through a side corridor, bullets whizzing past. Kicking open a door, they burst into the rain. A black SUV was parked nearby, their extraction.

"Move it!" Soap barked.

Ghost covered their retreat, gunning down the last pursuing soldier before leaping into the vehicle.

As the SUV sped off, Soap exhaled, grinning despite the chaos. "Hell of a night, eh?"