The briefing room was cold, the air heavy with quiet tension. A projector cast a pale blue light across the map of the Croatian coastline pinned on the wall. Around the table sat Task Force 141 — Captain Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, and me. The newest member.
Price's voice was steady, businesslike.
"We have reliable intel indicating a weapons shipment moving through this stretch of coast. Small arms, explosives, possibly more. Our objective: intercept, secure, and extract with minimal disturbance. We expect a small boat insertion under cover of darkness."
He paused, eyes scanning us all.
"Rules are simple — no noise, no engagement unless necessary. We don't want a firefight. Keep it clean."
Ghost, as usual, said nothing but gave a slight nod. His presence alone was enough to command respect.
Soap leaned forward. "Recon says the target vessel will dock here around 0200 hours. We get on, get the crates, and get off."
Gaz tapped his finger on the map. "Patrols are light, but the weather forecast isn't promising. Rough seas and wind could complicate things."
I tightened my grip on the strap of my kit bag, nerves flickering but contained. This was my first mission with them — the real deal. No more training exercises or simulations.
Price's gaze locked with mine. "You ready?"
I gave a firm nod. "Yes, sir."
After the briefing, we moved to gear up. I checked my rifle, the familiar weight reassuring but not enough to calm the flutter in my stomach.
Outside, the chill of the evening air bit through my jacket. The boat awaited — small, low profile, designed to slip quietly through water. We climbed aboard without a word. Ghost took the helm, eyes fixed ahead.
The engine's low thrum was steady as the boat sliced through the dark water. The coastline grew nearer, faint lights blinking in the distance.
The salty spray stung my face, sharp and cold. The sea was calm but unforgiving.
We slowed, the boat nearing the shipment vessel. Ghost signalled. We slipped over the side and climbed silently aboard.
The hold was exactly as expected — crates stamped with foreign markings, sealed tight. I inspected them quickly, the weight of responsibility pressing down.
Suddenly, a faint noise from above — footsteps. Ghost's hand was on my arm, steady but firm.
We moved quickly but quietly, securing what we could before melting back into the night.
Back on the boat, the cold air hit me like a wall. My breath came out in misty puffs.
The first mission was over. No fanfare. Just the quiet satisfaction of a job done.
And the knowledge that this was only the beginning.