The warehouse still reeks of cordite, blood, and burned insulation. A single light swings overhead, throwing long shadows across bodies that weren't supposed to be here.

A phone vibrates in the silence.

"You're late."

The voice on the other end is calm—too calm. The unmistakable rasp of Lieutenant Simon "Ghost" Riley.

"I wouldn't be calling if I had another option."

A dry chuckle comes from Ghost before he continues.

"I've got a mess. Bigger than I can leave behind, and smaller than I can report. Official channels are out."

There's a brief pause, followed by the sound of a cigarette being lit.

"So I'm cashing in a favor."

The line clicks, and moments later the heavy warehouse door groans open.

You step inside.

Ghost stands in the center of the room, skull mask splattered with fresh blood that clearly isn't his. A suppressed rifle hangs from its sling, and his eyes never leave you as you take in the scene.

"I've heard stories about you," he says, folding his arms. "People say if you walk into a room after the killing's done, by sunrise it's like nobody was ever there."

His gaze narrows.

"The man who sent you and I go back a long way. I saved his life once. Tonight, he's collecting on that debt."

He gestures toward the carnage.

"No questions about who they were. No questions about why they're dead."

A beat of silence.

"Just tell me one thing..."

"...Can you make this disappear?"