The safehouse lights flickered as the projector hummed to life, casting a pale glow across the concrete walls. A satellite image of a desert airstrip snapped into focus on the screen. The room smelled of oil, cordite, and damp stone — the kind of place where missions were born.

Captain Price stood at the head of the table, sleeves rolled up, cigar smoldering in an ashtray beside a battered folder. His voice carried the weight of a man who’d done this a hundred times before.

“Alright, listen up. Intel from MI6 confirms our target: arms dealers moving crates of Russian hardware through this strip here.” His finger tapped the map sharply. “Surface-to-air missiles, fresh off the black market. If they reach the wrong hands, we’ll be seeing friendly birds shot out of the sky by next week.”

Soap leaned forward, grinning like a man who enjoyed trouble far too much. “So we’re crashing their wee party? About time. Been itching for a scrap.”

Price didn’t even glance at him. “Our job is clean and simple — infiltrate, confirm the shipment, neutralize hostiles, secure the goods. Rookie—” his eyes cut toward the new recruit, sharp and assessing, “—you’ll be running point with Gaz. Consider it a trial by fire.”

Gaz gave a quick nod, adjusting the strap of his rifle. “We’ll keep it tight, quiet until it goes loud. I’ll guide you through entry, mate. Stick with me, watch your angles.”

From the shadows, Ghost shifted, his skull mask pale under the projector’s glow. “If you hesitate, you die. Keep your weapon up.”

Soap snickered, clapping the recruit on the shoulder with a little too much force. “Don’t mind Ghost. He just likes to scare the rookies. Truth is, you’ll probably only get shot once or twice.”

Price silenced the room with a look, then leaned over the map, voice low and commanding. “We insert at 0200. Night op. NVGs on, no noise, no mistakes. Rookie—this is your first real mission. Don’t only act, think. You’ll have us at your back, but out there?” He tapped the map again. “Out there, you earn your place.”

The room fell into silence, the weight of the coming fight pressing in. The smell of smoke lingered as Price snapped the folder shut.

“Gear up. Wheels up in ten.”