Briefing

Forty-six hours had passed since the team met the reaper, now in a building even more fortified than the one before, with concrete walls thicker than bunkers and security tighter than an intelligence vault, John Wayne and his team waited.

The lights in the room were dim, flickering against the polished steel table that dominated the center. The air was unnaturally still—like the room itself was holding its breath.

John stood silently by General Marcus Bennett, his hands resting behind his back, his expression as still as stone. The rest of his team was scattered across the room, each in their own rhythm of anticipation.

Price sat nearest the corner, leaning back in his chair, a cigarette dangling from his lips as he exhaled slowly, watching the smoke curl toward the ceiling. His eyes, however, didn't drift far from John.

Soap was doing what Soap did best—trying to get under Ghost's skin. "You ever take that mask off, Ghost?" he whispered with a smirk. "Bet you've got a cherub face under there."

Ghost didn't reply. He merely turned his head toward Soap with a look that could have melted steel and then looked away again.

Nikolai stood beside one of the tinted glass windows, pretending to admire the view while actually studying angles, potential blind spots, and building exits. He wasn't just a driver. He was the team's unofficial exfil specialist, and his brain never stopped working.

At precisely 0755, the sound in the room shifted.

Like the very walls had grown ears.

The air became heavy. Serious.

General Bennett straightened and cleared his throat.

"Eyes front."

The team went quiet instantly.

A moment later, a female officer entered the room carrying a sealed steel container in both hands. She didn't speak. She moved directly to the center of the table, placed the container down with care, then gave a crisp nod to the general and walked out.

When the door sealed behind her with a hiss, Bennett moved to the container and entered a complex combination on the electronic lock.

A soft click followed.

He opened the lid, revealing a small, brown envelope inside a clear zip-lock bag. It looked innocent enough, but everyone in the room knew it was far from it.

He pulled it out and inserted the USB within into the port hidden on the center console of the round table. Within seconds, the embedded tabletop lit up, projecting a holographic interface into the air above them.

The screen flickered to life, displaying a series of red-stamped files.

TARGET: EAST ASIAN RESEARCH FACILITY

CLASSIFIED LEVEL 7

A map expanded next, outlining a coastal area of a prominent East Asian nation. Below it, a list of names began scrolling.

All had red slashes drawn through them.

"Twenty-three scientists," General Bennett said. "All working for the state, with government funding, on the development of nuclear weapons."

He paused and let the words hang.

"They've made progress. Real progress. The kind that makes the U.S. government nervous. This facility is hidden inside a commercial compound disguised as a technology research center. What they're building cannot be allowed to exist."

John's gaze narrowed. "Rules of engagement?"

Bennett's jaw tensed.

"No survivors. Every scientist, assistant, handler — scrubbed. Cleanly. Quietly. And without any connection to us."

Price sucked on his cigarette and exhaled slowly. "So, it's an assassination mission wrapped in a black bag. One that'll get us hanged if even one camera catches us blinking."

Ghost said nothing. Soap had stopped joking.

Nikolai's eyes shifted immediately to the exits on the map, memorizing routes.

John asked, "What's the timeline?"

"Wheels up in six hours. Operation begins at 18:00 Eastern Time, 2 days after you land. You'll be flying out on a civilian airliner from LAX at 13:00. You'll land in-country as tourists. No official contacts. No cover from any consulate. You'll operate under total blackout."

Soap let out a breath. "This is harder than I expected."

Price nodded grimly.

Ghost folded his arms. "No direct support, no gear. And we're playing tourists with a hit list."

Bennett nodded once. "Which is why you've been given access to the blood fund."

John raised a brow. "How much?"

The general smiled faintly. "One million."

The team shared a glance.

It was a number that brought danger. A number that meant risk on a global scale.

John nodded slowly, his tone measured. "And what do we get when this is done?"

The general's smile deepened, but it didn't reach his eyes.

"You walk away."

The room froze.

Price looked up. Soap blinked. Ghost finally turned fully toward the general.

No more files. No more missions. A clean slate.

"You disappear, if you want to. New identity. New life. Untraceable."

It was the dream of every ghost in the battlefield—to leave.

"To walk away from hell," Nikolai muttered under his breath.

But John wasn't done.

He leaned forward. "That's for them. What about me?"

Bennett met his eyes.

"You complete this mission, and you get three favors. Anything you want—within reason, and as long as it doesn't damage national interest. Additionally, your company, your name, your people — protected. Off-limits. Untouchable."

John didn't speak for a moment.

Then nodded.

"Understood."

The general stood, removed the USB from the port, crushed it under his boot with a metallic crack, and tossed the remains into a steel trash bin. He took the paper copy of the operation, doused it in lighter fluid, and set it ablaze.

Only ashes remained.

Only six people in the world now knew what was coming.

The general turned to the door. "You've got a war to prepare for."

And then he left.

Fifteen Minutes Later

John stood at the center of the briefing table again, holographic map still rotating slowly in front of him.

"All right. Eyes here."

The four veterans gathered without hesitation.

"This mission's too big for a straight-in approach. So here's the plan: We don't all fly in together."

Price raised an eyebrow. "Explain."

"If we're spotted together—five military-looking men walking through the airport—someone will connect the dots. Even if your records were wiped, your faces are still known in underground networks. Especially Price and Soap."

Soap shrugged. "Guilty."

John nodded. "Ghost, you're less of a problem since no one's seen your face. Nikolai, you're Eastern European — you can blend in easier. Still, we arrive separately. Different flights. Different times."

"Gear?" Price asked.

"We buy local. I'll send money to front accounts and have Nikolai handle the market. He'll find a warehouse to receive our gear. No names. No trails."

Nikolai gave a brief nod. "Already thinking about that."

"Price," John continued, "you scout the east entrance of the compound. Soap, you take the west."

Both nodded.

"Ghost," John said, "I want you up high. Bird's nest. Monitor our approach. Watch our extraction route."

"Copy."

"Nikolai, once the warehouse is secured, survey all transportation routes and fallback paths. No point of entry unless there's a point of exit."

"Da."

John paused.

"I'm going in early."

That got their attention.

"Alone?" Price asked, voice edged with concern.

"Yes. I'll land tomorrow, scout the area, prepare initial gear drop. If we all go together, we paint a target on ourselves."

The team exchanged glances, then nodded.

"Before I go, I'm giving you all civilian phones. Not burners — real, trackable ones. They'll help sell our cover as tourists."

He handed each of them a slim smartphone.

"We meet in-country. I'll send the location of a bar near the target zone. We establish our presence as vacationers. Then we move in phases."

They all accepted the plan without argument.

John turned to leave but paused.

"One last thing. Don't touch the blood fund unless it's absolutely necessary. I'll handle gear prep. Keep our financial noise low."

Everyone stood.

For a moment, none of them said anything. Just five soldiers staring down a mission no one would remember, and the world would never thank them for.

And yet, they didn't flinch.

They walked out one by one, leaving only the echo of boots on tile behind them.

The shadows were waiting.

And DEATH was coming.