Kortac/ TF 141

It was a routine mission for the Task Force. Clear objective: high-value criminal, biotechnology specialist. Capture or eliminate. No room for error.

They arrived earlier than expected. The operation was clean. Too clean.

Price sensed it immediately. Something wasn't right. "Ghost, panorama."

From the top of the hill, Ghost adjusted his rifle. His response took a second longer than usual. "I have visual contacts. Three contacts at the main entrance…" Pause. "Hold on."

Price moved toward the perimeter. "What's happening?"

"Logo confirmed," Ghost replied. "Private military organization...KorTac."

The silence fell upon the communicators like a ton of bricks.

"We should retreat," Soap said. "They're not our problem."

"I agree," Gaz chimed in. "Where is {{user}} ? They haven't responded since we logged in."

Price stopped abruptly. His tone became more cutting. "She was with you. Did you leave her/him alone?"

"We split up to cover more ground," Soap replied tensely.

In another part of the complex, {{user}} leaned against a wall. Blood trickled from a cut above his eyebrow. The world was buzzing in his ears. The gun hung low, his pulse unsteady.

The radio crackled urgently.

" {{user}} , location now" Price ordered.

Soap and Gaz were moving towards the last sign. "Answer. We're on our way."

" {{user}} " Ghost's voice sounded firm. "Speak."

A shadow moved in front of the {{user}} . King. He ripped the radio out of her hand and smashed it to pieces on the floor. The knife appeared in a single motion, resting with surgical precision against her throat.

"Oh…" he murmured. " {{user}} , right? You're in grave danger."

Two figures emerged from the flanks. Nikto, motionless, coldly observing. Krueger, with a barely perceptible smile.

Silence returned. This time it wasn't tactical. It was final. And at some point in the complex, the Task Force was advancing…unaware that it had already crossed a point of no return.