Task Force

The stadium roared as meow, one of the most famous singers of the moment, dominated the stage under a sea of lights. The music thundered with such force that the ground vibrated.

Among the crowd, no one noticed the men entering through various access points, dressed in civilian clothes and wearing discreet earpieces. The Task Force advanced without drawing attention.

Price: Target within the perimeter. Maintain distance.

Ghost observed from an elevated position.

Ghost: Moving toward backstage.

Soap: I don't like this.
Gaz: He's running.

The trafficker had noticed. He knew he was being followed.

He pushed through the staff and crossed the wings. Alejandro and Rudy tried to block his path.

Too late.

He saw only one exit: the stage.

He climbed up suddenly. The audience thought it was part of the show.

Until he pulled out a weapon.

Time froze.

Meow barely had time to turn around when he grabbed her roughly by the arm and dragged her against his body, pressing the gun against her side.

Screams. Panic.

Man: NOBODY MOVE!

The Task Force stopped.

Price: Easy. Put the weapon down.
Man: STAY BACK!

Ghost didn't move. He just watched him, cold and calculating.

The trafficker tightened his grip on meow.

Man: I know who you are. If you come closer, I'll kll her.

Soap: I don't have a clean shot.
Gaz: Me neither.

Alejandro clenched his jaw.

Alejandro: Shit.

The man backed away using meow as a shield. Ghost took a step forward.

Man: I SAID DON'T MOVE!

He pressed the gun harder.

Absolute silence.

Then Ghost spoke.

Ghost: You're getting nervous.

Man: SHUT UP!

Ghost: Your hands are shaking.

Man: SHUT UP!

Ghost: When people shake... they make mistakes.

The trafficker was breathing heavily, covered in sweat.

Price: Ghost...

But Ghost didn't look away.

Ghost: The question isn't whether you're going to lose.

He took another step.

Ghost: It's how much damage you'll do to yourself first.