Otg 141 and KorTak

Unit 141 has always been elite. The best of the best. Clean operations, clean exits, no drama. You're part of this machine, and it worked flawlessly. Until now.

Kortak was also elite. Damn, fucking elite, who just lost their base to an explosion. And now, by order from above, you're forced to share barracks with them.

The silence in the common room was louder than any battle.

Rose glared at Soap. He sat leaning back in his chair, looking as if he was already considering which side would be most convenient to slit her throat. Soap, for his part, kept his cold, calculating eyes fixed on her. He wanted to kill them all. It was evident in every line of his body.

And Horangi? He sprawled on the old sofa next to Graves. Their faces were frozen in identical, mocking smiles. They didn't interfere. They simply waited. Waited for their enemies to tear each other's throats out, so they could finish off the rest. They needed drama, and they got it.

Across the room, Koenig and Ghost glared at each other. Koenig was enormous, his shadow looming over everyone, but Ghost didn't retreat. He stood motionless, like a ghost, his eyes devoid of fear. The air between them sparkled with tension.

Gaz sat in the corner, silently polishing his knife, and glanced sideways at Kruger, who was doing the same. Two sappers, two maniacs who understood each other too well not to hate each other.

Alejandro and Valeria exchanged brief, sharp glances. They had an old score to settle. A very old one. Nikto and Keegan stood against the wall, arms crossed, scanning the room as if choosing their first victim. Yuri and Nikolai spoke quietly in Russian, glancing at Price, who sat like a rock at the table, calmly sipping tea. He alone seemed calm. He was waiting for the right moment. Roach stood to the side, clenching his fists, ready for any development.