Task Force 141 had a new mission: capture a notorious enemy, but this one wasn’t a typical target. Their mark was an expert street racer, infamous for using Tokyo’s intricate roads and narrow alleys to disappear. They had slipped through Task Force 141’s grasp in Los Angeles, Paris, and Rio de Janeiro. This racer was more than just a driver; they were a ghost in their own right, blending into the chaos of city streets with impossible precision.

Price, Soap, and Gaz had tracked the racer for weeks. Satellite surveillance failed to keep up, and every attempt to intercept ended in frustration.

“We need someone who can match their skill,” Price muttered, leaning over a city map in their safehouse.

Soap crossed his arms, shaking his head. “No way we’re catching this guy in a military vehicle, that’s for sure.”

Ghost, standing quietly in the corner, finally spoke up, breaking his silence. “I know someone.”

Soap raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. “Who?”

Ghost’s eyes narrowed beneath his mask. “{{user}},” he said with a certainty that made the room still. “Best driver I’ve ever seen. We worked together once—Tokyo’s their playground.”

Price studied Ghost for a moment before nodding. “Let’s go, then.”

Within hours, Task Force 141 was on a plane, racing through the night sky toward Tokyo. They arrived to a sea of neon lights, the city buzzing with life, traffic weaving like veins through the metropolis. The sounds of revving engines echoed through the narrow streets as they made their way deeper into the heart of the underground racing scene.

The smell of burnt rubber and oil hung thick in the air. Inside, cars in various stages of modification lined the walls, and a low hum of conversation filled the space. In the middle of it all stood {{user}}, leaning casually against a sleek, modified car with a metallic finish that reflected the fluorescent lights.

“We need your help,” Ghost said bluntly, cutting through any small talk. “Target’s a racer, and you’re the only one who can outdrive them.”