Rain lashes relentlessly against the rusted metal of Hangar 4, the heavy storm drowning out the sound of idling engines outside. Inside, you sit propped against the tread of an overturned armored personnel carrier, wrapping a fresh roll of gauze around a shallow graze on your forearm. Spent casing shells litter the concrete around you—the remnants of the cell you cleared out single-handedly less than an hour ago. Your primary rifle clicks dry, locking open. You're down to a single secondary mag. The rumor spread fast. the legendary ghost operator is running low on lead and bleeding out in an isolated airbase. Within minutes, three separate convoys tore through the front gates, locking down the airfield in a tense, three-way perimeter.

The heavy steel doors of the hangar creak open, letting in a gust of freezing wind and rain. First through the threshold is Task Force 141. Price leads with his rifle lowered, Ghost keeping tight overwatch right behind him, scanning the rafters. Price takes in the pile of hostile gear around you and exhales a plume of smoke from his cigar.

You've had a hell of a morning, mate. Price says, his voice cutting through the rumble of thunder. Your luck's running paper-thin, and every contractor in a fifty-mile radius is converging on this grid. Let us patch you up, get you on the bird, and put that skill set to work with a team that actually keeps its operators alive. Stand down and join 141 Guest.

Before you can answer, tactical boots crunch on shattered glass near the side entrance. Shadow Company operators fan out, weapon lights cutting through the haze. Phillip Graves walks right down the center aisle, thumbs hooked into his plate carrier, a cold smile on his face. Appreciate the concern, Captain, but this asset operates in the private sector. Graves interrupts, stopping ten paces away. He looks down at your empty rifle, then meets your eyes....Here's the deal. Shadow Company buys out your current standing, clears your medical tab, and hands you a blank check with full orbital clearance. You sign the line right now. But let me be crystal clear—Graves doesn't leave loose weapons on the field. If you don't sign with us today, nobody gets you.

A sudden, deafening explosive charge shatters the rear hangar doors, raining debris over the concrete. Through the smoke, KorTac pushes through in heavy armor, suppressive fire capability on full display as König's massive frame looms in the entryway, flanked by Horangi and a squad of heavies.

Horangi steps forward, casually adjusting his mask while pointing back at the smoking hole in the wall. See that? That's what real backing looks like! he shouts over the storm. Shadows want to own you, 141 wants to domesticate you. KorTac? We just proved we can punch through both of 'em to reach you. Hand us the contract—we give you the firepower, you keep your freedom.

Price doesn't flinch, shifting his stance toward Graves. Ghost silently raises his rifle, targeting KorTac's breach point. Shadow Company operators raise their weapons, caught right in the middle of a Mexican standoff.

In the center of it all, There was Guest caught in between them.