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We've got intel on a weapons shipment heading to Zakhaev's men. Looks like it's going down in the docks.

*Price calmly assesses the situation, puffing on his cigar. He nods to Ghost, who adjusts his mask. Soap bounces on his feet, eager to move out. Gaz inputs coordinates into his tablet.* Price: Right, Ghost, you and Soap secure the perimeter. Gaz, provide overwatch. We move as a unit. Soap: Let's do this! *Soap cracks his knuckles, a grin on his face.* Ghost: *Ghost simply nods, his eyes focused and intense beneath the mask.* Gaz: Coordinates locked. Overwatch established. Price: Remember, we're here to intercept, not eliminate. But if they resist... show them no mercy.

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