Final Brief and Insane Plan

The sun was up, but the morning felt cold.

At exactly 09:00, the private room at the top floor of the bar was already sealed. The windows were tinted, the walls reinforced with sound-dampening panels, and the air carried a heavy charge — like a thunderstorm about to break.

John Wayne stood at the head of the circular table. His holobuds rested on the glass beside a rolled blueprint, a pair of metallic marbles, and a portable tactical map. One by one, the members of Task Force Death took their seats.

Price leaned back with his arms crossed, cigarette unlit but twirling between his fingers.

Soap plopped into the chair next to him, stretching with a groan. "Right then. Let's hear what the kid cooked up this time."

Ghost, already seated, silent behind the skull-patterned mask.

Nikolai followed, placing a metal flask on the table, nodding toward John in quiet greeting.

The room fell into silence.

John spoke, voice even, controlled.

"Here's how it's going to go down."

He tapped the tactical display, the facility's digital floor plan blooming into view. Three red circles marked perimeter stations, a larger red zone glowed at the center.

"At 18:00, I detonate the EMP from this substation here—" he pointed. "It's already planted. Everything goes black across the city. No communications. No cameras. No power. Two-hour blackout window."

"And during that window?" Price asked.

"You're all on overwatch," John continued. "Soap, you take the west gate. Price, the east. You'll observe the facility and watch for anyone trying to escape or flank. Ghost…" he looked up. "You're overwatch from the Nest. You spot enemy reinforcements, you call it."

Ghost gave a nod. No objections.

"Nikolai stays on standby with the exfil vehicle. Engine running at a quiet distance. We need a fast pull-out once it's done."

The table remained still. The plan sounded standard—until John unrolled the next page.

A hand-drawn infiltration route, complete with angles, breach points, and kill zones… all for one man.

"Now," John said slowly, "here's where things change."

Price leaned in, eye narrowing.

"I go in alone."

A long pause. Like a dropped pin in an empty hall.

Soap blinked. "What?"

Nikolai raised an eyebrow. "You're serious?"

Price sat up straighter. "Are you bloody insane?"

John met his eyes. "It's the only way."

Soap looked between them. "Wait, hold on. Did he say alone?"

"He said alone," Price said grimly. "The whole thing. The breach, the kills, the detonation..."

Ghost stirred for the first time. "You're planning a full sweep of the facility by yourself."

John nodded.

"Why?" Ghost asked, voice low but sharp. "What do you want?"

John's eyes turned cold.

"Hunt," he said.

One word. A single syllable. Yet the air in the room shifted, dropped several degrees. Even Soap stopped fidgeting. Ghost's head tilted slightly.

"That's reckless," Ghost said. "Even for someone with your... skillset. Too many variables."

"Thirty minutes," John said. "That's all I ask. The heart monitors I gave you track vitals within the structure. If anyone but us five is still breathing after thirty minutes... you move in."

"And if it's clear?" Price asked.

"You prep demolition and burn the site. We leave clean."

Nikolai gave a low whistle. "Suicide, you know."

John smiled. "Not yet."

Soap slapped the table lightly. "Bloody hell, you sure you're not cracked? I mean, thirty minutes to clear a facility crawling with armed scientists, guards, maybe traps?"

"I've mapped their shift rotations, internal layout, and I have the element of surprise," John replied. "The EMP gives me a level playing field. No cameras. No drones. No lights. Just darkness… and me."

Ghost looked to Price.

"He can pull it off," he said quietly.

Soap stared. "You believe this?"

Ghost turned back to John. "I've seen that look before. He's not bluffing."

Price leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling, fingers steepled. He was silent for a long moment before letting out a breath.

"Alright, kid," Price said. "Thirty minutes. We give you that. If you're not done by then…"

"You come in and finish it," John said.

Price nodded. "Fair."

"Agreed," Ghost said.

"Da," Nikolai added. "Just don't make me clean up pieces."

John stood and walked to the corner where five small cases lay stacked.

He opened each and handed them to the squad.

"These are the advanced holobuds. You've worn them already, but this set's been upgraded. Facial changes update every ten seconds based on public datasets. You're invisible, even to future scans."

Soap took his and examined the small device. "Feels like magic, not tech."

"It's both," John said, voice colder now. "We can't afford mistakes."

He pulled out a final box. Inside were five wristbands—vital trackers built with Great Sage's help. Their readings sync with John's master device and display individual heartbeats, motion signatures, and location markers.

"Monitor these. If anyone inside the facility's heart is still beating at 18:30... breach."

Price picked up the band and slid it on. "You realize if this fails, there'll be hell to pay."

John gave him a look. "Only if I lose."

"And if you break?" Ghost asked, sharper now. "If your mind gives out again?"

The question hung in the air like a suspended blade.

John turned his back slightly. The voice inside his mind stirred.

Great Sage...

I am with you, Master. I will take control if the load becomes too much. You will not falter.

John exhaled. Then faced them again.

"If I break," he said, "I'll still finish it."

Price looked at him for a long moment, then offered his hand.

John took it.

"Then we do it your way," Price said. "But no more stunts after this."

"Deal."

Soap smirked, shaking his head. "You're one scary bastard, you know that?"

"Only when I need to be."

Nikolai rose. "I'll prep the van."

Ghost stood. "I'll move into position."

Soap gathered his gear. "Guess we play tourist for a few more hours."

Price lingered, lighting the cigarette he'd been rolling since arrival.

"You sure you want to go in alone?"

"I'm sure."

"You remind me of a soldier I once knew," Price muttered. "Crazy, brilliant, always got the job done. Died in a hallway clearing room after room with nothing but a blade and a half-mag."

"What happened?" John asked.

Price exhaled smoke. "Took ten of them with him."

John nodded. "I'll aim for eleven."

The room cleared. Each member moving in silence. Professionals. Killers. Brothers.

John lingered.

He looked over the blueprint one last time, committing every detail to memory. Every turn, every door, every heartbeat that needed to stop.

He closed the case.

Behind him, the music from the bar below rose faintly through the floor. Laughter, clinking glasses. The world kept turning, blissfully unaware.

But in less than nine hours, the lights would go out.

And something far worse than darkness would be walking through the halls of that facility.

Hunting.