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It wasn't exactly a good day for Task Force 141.
What was supposed to be a routine assignment had Price sending Ghost, Soap, and Gaz on a reconnaissance mission instead.
Soap was, without a doubt, the least thrilled about it. If things had gone according to plan, today would've been a day off—one he fully intended to spend dragging Ghost out for a few drinks. Unfortunately, when Captain Price handed out an order, turning it down simply wasn't an option.
According to Price, the mission itself wasn't particularly dangerous. Intelligence had reported suspicious activity somewhere in the frozen wilderness of Russia: a hidden underground facility and confirmed signs of personnel inside. Their objective was simple—gather information, avoid unnecessary engagement, and return.
Simple.
Soap slouched in the passenger seat, grumbling under his breath the entire drive.
"Ghost! Look at this, would you?" he complained loudly. "I was gonna drag you out for a drink today, but those bastards just had to reveal their damn hideout now of all times."
The man behind the skull mask didn't even spare him a glance. His eyes remained fixed ahead.
"Mission.
Gaz glanced at Ghost, then looked back at the annoyed Scottish soldier. Seeing Soap’s mood, he decided to speak up and calm him down.
"Relax, Soap. After this is over, I’ll buy you a drink."
Soap immediately changed his attitude, blowing a kiss toward Gaz.
"Oh, I love you so much, Gaz. Has anyone ever told you how handsome you are?"
Watching Soap’s performance, Ghost looked at him with obvious disdain.
"Fake."
Soap turned back toward Ghost and chuckled, his voice full of teasing.
"Shh, you’re just jealous because you can’t do what I do. Acting all cold and mysterious, huh?"
Seeing his two teammates bickering like usual, Gaz could only laugh helplessly. Thanks to them, the atmosphere inside the vehicle became much more relaxed.
Soap was already getting bored with the silence.
He had just started looking around for something—anything—to keep himself occupied when the radio in Ghost's hand crackled to life.
A burst of static filled the air before Captain Price's familiar deep, gravelly voice came through.
"Stay sharp. Don't let your guard down just because this is an intel-gathering mission."
Ghost remained silent.
Soap, naturally, had something to say.
"Tsk... You really don't trust us that much, Captain? Come on—we've got the legendary Ghost and the brilliant Gaz. With the three of us here, this'll be over before you know it."
A brief pause.
Then Price sighed over the radio.
"Ghost."
"Sir."
"Keep an eye on him."
Soap burst into laughter while Ghost let out an annoyed grunt.
That single exchange brought their joking to an end. The truck fell quiet once more, each of them settling into the calm before the mission.
Nearly half a day's drive later, they finally arrived in the frozen wilderness of Russia.
The moment they stepped out, everyone moved with practiced efficiency. Gaz checked their bearings and confirmed the route. Ghost inspected his weapon one last time, while Soap wandered a short distance away, scanning the surroundings out of habit.
Preparations were quick. Before long, the three men were already making their way toward the suspected underground facility.
Snow blanketed the landscape in white. Every step sank deep into the powder, leaving distinct footprints behind. Each breath came out as a cloud of mist in the biting cold.
The dense forest stood silent beneath layers of ice, and nestled among the trees was an abandoned cabin.
It looked far too ordinary.
Which made it all the more suspicious.
The three operators crouched low as they approached the abandoned cabin.
The faint scent of engine oil lingered in the freezing air.
Ghost raised a hand, silently signaling the others to stop. He leaned closer to the wall, listening.
Muffled voices.
Someone was inside.
Soap quietly picked up a fallen branch and tossed it toward the front door.
Thunk.
Without another word, the three disappeared into cover, weapons already trained on the entrance.
The door creaked open.
Two armed guards stepped outside. One bent down to inspect the branch while the other swept the area with his rifle.
Ghost didn't hesitate.
Two suppressed shots echoed through the snow.
Both men collapsed before they even understood what had happened.
Ghost moved in first, checking both bodies for signs of life while Gaz kept his rifle trained on the open doorway. His gaze swept down the long hallway beyond before he finally lowered his voice.
"Clear enough?"
Ghost scanned the surroundings one last time before giving a curt nod.
"We're good. Move."
Soap stopped outside a closed room, gesturing for the others to follow.
His voice dropped to a whisper.
"I don't like this."
Ghost glanced at him.
"Two guards..." Soap muttered. "That's way too few."
Ghost motioned for silence before easing the door open, rifle raised.
Gaz and Soap immediately covered the angles behind him.
Nothing.
The room was eerily quiet.
Inside were neatly stacked wooden crates.
Soap was the first to approach while Ghost and Gaz secured the doorway behind him.
Gaz frowned.
"Soap? What'd you find?"
Soap knelt beside one of the crates, pried it open—
Then froze.
"...Damn."
His voice came out sharper than intended.
"Heavy weapons. Lots of them... Konni markings."
He immediately looked over his shoulder.
"We need to get out. Now. Captain has to know about this."
The moment the word Konni left Soap's mouth, Ghost and Gaz instinctively turned toward the hallway.
Too late.
A shadow emerged from the blind spot behind Gaz.
A knife flashed.
Soap's eyes widened.
"GAZ!!"
Steel buried itself into flesh.
Gunfire exploded through the room almost immediately after.
Soap had reacted on pure instinct, throwing himself toward his teammate before the attacker could land a fatal blow.
But the burst of gunfire had already done its damage.
The entire building came alive.
Doors slammed open.
Shouts echoed down the corridors.
Boots thundered toward them.
"Move!"
None of them argued.
The three sprinted out of the room as enemy soldiers poured into the hall behind them.
Ghost snatched up his radio while firing over his shoulder.
"Fuck! We need extraction! Right now, Price!"
Another burst of static.
Ghost kept running.
"The target wasn't an outpost—it's one of Makarov's bases!"
For a moment, all they could hear was static.
Then Price's voice finally broke through.
"...The transport's too far away... damn snowstorm..."
The signal crackled again.
"...Based on your position... it won't reach you in time..."
"...Do whatever you have to. Survive."
Silence.
That single sentence almost crushed what little hope they had left.
Until—
Soap suddenly pointed ahead.
His voice practically cracked as he shouted into the radio.
"CAPTAIN!"
"I SEE A TRUCK UP AHEAD!"
"ARE YOU SURE THAT ISN'T OUR EXTRACTION?!"
Price frowned.
That wasn't right.
He distinctly remembered receiving confirmation that the extraction vehicle had already been relocated before the blizzard worsened.
Then what the hell was Soap looking at?
There wasn't time to question it.
"Your call," Price muttered through the radio.
The three men sprinted toward the vehicle, weaving through the trees to shake off Konni's pursuit.
As they drew closer, a lone figure came into view.
Someone was leaning casually against the driver's door, smoking.
Even from a distance, something about the stranger felt... wrong.
A mask covered his face.
Dark sunglasses hid his eyes.
Not a single inch of skin was visible.
Ghost reacted first.
His pistol was pressed against the stranger's temple before anyone else could blink.
Soap and Gaz immediately recognized one thing.
This wasn't their driver.
This was someone else.
Someone neither of them had ever seen before.
The stranger simply raised both hands.
No panic.
No sudden movements.
Ghost's voice was cold enough to freeze the air around them.
"Who are you?"
"Answer."
The man calmly took one last drag from his cigarette before flicking it into the snow and crushing it beneath his boot.
Instead of answering, he asked,
"...Aren't you three being chased?"
"So."
"You need a ride?"
Soap blinked.
For someone with a gun pressed against his head, the man was unnervingly relaxed.
Gaz kept his rifle trained on him.
"How do we know you aren't Konni?"
"Search him."
Soap stepped forward, quickly patting the stranger down.
"No weapons..."
He paused.
"So what's your name?"
Then, grinning as usual—
"If you get us out of here alive, drinks are on me."
The man tilted his head before letting out a quiet laugh.
"You're surprisingly optimistic."
"...Call me Tick."
He didn't move.
He simply waited for Ghost's decision.
Gaz narrowed his eyes.
"If you're not Konni..."
"How did you know we were being chased?"
"And why are you here?"
Tick's answer was immediate.
"If you want to stay alive..."
"Get in."
"I'll explain later."
None of them lowered their guard.
If anything...
Their suspicion only grew.
Ghost glanced toward the forest.
Footsteps.
They were getting closer.
Tick sighed.
"You've got about a minute."
"They're almost here."
Soap finished searching him one last time before nodding.
"He's clean."
Tick smiled faintly beneath his mask.
Without another word, he jerked his chin toward the truck.
Ghost stared at him for another long second.
Then toward the approaching forest.
"...Move."
Gaz climbed in first, his rifle never leaving Tick's chest.
Even after everyone was inside, the muzzle remained pointed directly at him.
Tick clicked his tongue softly.
"Tsk..."
"...You really don't trust people, huh."
Instead of arguing, he reached into his pocket and held out a piece of candy toward Soap.
Soap laughed.
"You seriously have time for candy right now?"
"I'll pass."
Ghost never looked away from Tick.
His gaze felt sharp enough to pierce straight through the man's mask.
One word.
"Drive."
Tick shrugged.
He unwrapped the candy, popped it into his mouth...
...and slammed his foot onto the accelerator.
The engine roared like thunder.
Within seconds, the truck disappeared into the blizzard, leaving nothing behind but swirling snow and fading engine noise.
Behind them—
An entire Konni unit was closing in.
Ahead of them—
A stranger whose face no one had seen.
The enemy behind them was obvious.
The man behind the wheel...
was another question entirely.
Should they keep their guns trained on him—
Or trust the only person who had just given them a chance to survive?