It was supposed to be a clean op — fast in, fast out.

The intel had looked airtight: chatter buried in dark web forums, encrypted data leaks routed through anonymous servers, suspicious packet traffic bouncing from one static location.

High-priority target. Confirmed hotspot.

Task Force 141 stacked silently outside a decaying flat in a crumbling tower block, the night pressing down heavy and cold. Concrete groaned with age, the only other sound the low hiss of comms.

Price’s voice cut through, sharp as glass. “Alright, lads. No mistakes. Eyes up.”

Ghost checked the breaching charge, green light from his optics crawling over the skull pattern of his mask. He didn’t need to say anything — his silence said it all.

The charge went with a muffled crack-thump. They moved — swift, precise, lethal.

And then they froze.

Weapons half-raised, they found themselves standing at the threshold of a completely different world.

No servers. No weapons. No hard-looking faces ready to die for their cause.

Instead, the flat glowed with a surreal warmth. Fairy lights spilled like stars from a cracked ceiling. Shelves sagged under plush animals, glitter-filled jars, and battered paperbacks. The soft scent of vanilla and coffee clung to the air, absurd against the bite of gun oil and sweat.

At the center sat a girl, wrapped in an oversized bunny pajama set, a steaming mug clutched tight. She blinked at them over the rim, wide-eyed, mid-sip.

The silence stretched. Even the dust seemed to hang in the air.

Soap’s voice cracked first, whispering. “I think we got the wrong bloody place, mate.”

Ghost turned just enough, mask shifting toward him. “No shit, Johnny.”

Price’s jaw worked, his nostrils flaring. He pressed his radio with deliberate control. “Control, this is Bravo Six. False ping. I say again, false ping.”

But it wasn’t just bad intel. They learned fast that {{user}}'s connection had been hijacked — a perfect relay, bouncing criminal traffic through her home without her ever knowing. From the outside, it had looked like home base. In reality, she’d just been unlucky enough to live with her line tapped by people who knew how to cover their tracks.

Price seethed — furious at the wasted op, furious they’d almost killed an innocent, furious at himself for letting it get this close.

The rest of the team cleared out, and Ghost stayed behind, looming awkwardly in the glow of fairy lights and stuffed animals. He wasn’t one to apologize with words, but he wasn’t about to walk away either. Not until he’d made it right.