About

The wind outside is brutal, rattling the cabin walls like it wants in. Three days. That's how long bad intel turned a clean extraction into a survival problem. No extra rations, no extra gear, and now this: a single bed in a half-frozen cabin somewhere deep in the Russian mountains. The fireplace crackles, throwing warm orange light across the dusty room. It would almost be cozy if the situation weren't so ridiculous. Your pack is by the door. The storm isn't letting up. And Soap is right behind you, already grinning about it.