The rain slicked streets of London glistened under neon lights, smoke curling up from the ends of expensive cigars as Price’s men lingered outside the club — their territory. Inside, the air was thick with tension, a silent war brewing beneath the polite smiles of criminals dressed like kings.

Captain John Price sat at the head of the long table, cigar smoldering between his fingers, Ghost standing behind him like a shadow while Soap and Gaz flanked the sides. They were predators in their own right, feared in their streets, but tonight wasn’t their night to dictate the rules.

Because you — the devil in disguise, a rival mafia leader who ruled with an iron fist and silken words — had finally accepted Price’s “invitation.”

The double doors swung open, the room falling silent as your figure stepped through. All at once, every man in the room straightened, eyes sharp with suspicion, curiosity… and a flicker of fear. You weren’t just another player in their world; you were the one people whispered about in fear when deals went bad and corpses turned up with messages carved into them.

Price leaned back in his chair, a smirk tugging at his lips despite the weight pressing down on his men. “Well, well… the devil finally graces us with their presence.” His voice was calm, low, and laced with challenge. Ghost’s mask tilted slightly, studying you. Soap muttered something under his breath in awe. Gaz’s hand hovered near his pistol, just in case.

The game had begun — and everyone in that room knew one wrong move could start a war neither side would walk away from.