Two men stood on the runway, watching as a plane landed and crept slowly closer to them. The taller of the two ran his fingers through his comb-over and scratched at his short beard. "¿Cómo está tu cabeza, Rudy?- How's your head, Rudy?"

The shorter man, Rudy, shrugged. "Será mejor cuando atrapemos a este hijo de puta.- It'll be better when we catch this fucker."

"Tú me estás diciendo... - You're telling me..." The first man stepped forward as the tail of the plane opened and two other men walked out.

Of the two new men, the younger one spoke first. "Alejandro!"

"Sergeant MacTavish." He grabbed the young man's hand and shook it firmly.

"Call me Soap."

Alejandro turned his gaze to the man behind the Sergeant with a trace of an intrigued smile. "Lieutenant... Laswell says to call you Ghost."

"Actually," interrupted Soap. "I believe he prefers to be called-"

"THAT'LL DO." Ghost's gaze was as hard as his voice, teeth bared under his mask. Soap was cocky, but he couldn't believe he dared to be that audacious.

"The Stud..." the Sergeant thought in silence as he pursed his lips, keeping his eyes averted.

The Colonel grinned, maintaining his composure despite the tension. "Welcome to the City of Souls."

As they followed him Soap wiped perspiration from his forehead. Damn, it was bloody hot here. "I've never been to Mexico."

"This isn't Mexico," said Alejandro. "This is Las Almas."

Ghost butted between them, drawing a hasty conclusion to the pleasantries. "Shepherd's contractors are inbound to reinforce. They'll need room."

He wasn't bothered by the Lieutenant's cold demeanor and kept his tone friendly when he replied. "My base is your base."

"Good. Now where's Hassan?"

Alejandro turned for a jeep at the head of a nearby convoy, speaking over his shoulder as he walked. "Reports from my men say he's in a cartel safe-house ten klicks from here." He opened the passenger door and motioned to the other drivers to get ready to move. As he closed his door, Rudy was fastening his seatbelt. "This is my second in command, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra."

Rudy took one glance into the backseat before locking his eyes on the road ahead of them, adjusting his rearview mirror. "Le tengo miedo a los Fantasmas... - I'm afraid of Ghosts..." he muttered. Ghost narrowed his eyes in the backseat and the Sergeant cleared his tight throat.

Alejandro laughed before noticing neither of his guests were laughing with him. He looked back at Soap. "You know Spanish?"

"No..."

He smirked. "You will..."

--

Philip's lips moved silently as he read the book in his lap, his gray eyes occasionally darting around in thought. Novaleen was staring at him from where she sat across the cabin from him. "What're you reading?"

He looked up and immediately his face lit up with a giddy smile. "I'm practicing my Spanish. Figured if we're gonna be in Meh-he-co, I might as well try to speak the language."

"But you don't speak Spanish..." drawled Gann.

"The lu-ga-ren-yos like it when you at least try."

Molloy and Novaleen exchanged a painful glance. "Is he trying to say 'lugareños'?" he whispered.

She shrugged in response. "I don't know, I don't speak a word of Spanish, either..."

He sighed. "Well, keep practicing, sir." He swiveled his chair around to look at the TV, picking up the Red Bull nestled between his and NAG's seats and guzzling it desperately like water.

The Commander sighed and looked at Novaleen pitifully. "Is my Spanish really that bad?"

She giggled, covering her face with her hands. "I think it's admirable that you even try, Philip. Don't let us discourage you."

He perked up, a little smile tugging on his face. "Well, grass-i-as, me am-i-guh. I appreciate the encouragement."

NAG fought the urge to cringe at his pronunciation and swiveled her seat to look back at the TV, thumbing the gun controls as she did. "Look there. Gann, is that the compound Laswell was talking about?"

Gann nodded slowly, adjusting the brightness and zoom on the screen. "E-yep, that looks like it."

"Can't do anything about it until we RV with Ghost and his team," said Graves. "We have to take Hassan alive, and we can't do that with our heavy machinery."

Malloy snickered from his place beside another gunner. "Bummer..."

As they glided slowly above the mountains, Graves looked over the pilot's shoulder. "I see movement up on that ridge."

"Copy, I see it. Is that them, you think? Could be Cartel."

"Well, let's see." He tapped the com, leaning his mouth toward the mic. "Bravo 0-7, this is Shadow-1, how copy?"

No response.

He scrunched up his nose in a wince of uncertainty. "Gann, can you get a visual on them? See who that is?"

Gann zoomed in on his sights and beside him, Novaleen pointed at the screen. "Yep! That's Ghost right there near the front of the group."

"Excellent." Graves tapped the com again. "Ghost, do you read me, over?"

More static.

Novaleen's fingers were trembling at the trigger as they came around the hillside. The men had begun taking cover behind boulders as a caravan of armored trucks pulled up onto an old suspension bridge. "We've got vehicles on the bridge, say the word, sir."

Graves shook his head, his fingers flicking at her hand. "Negative, not yet, NAG." He leaned over the controls, looking at the screen. "We don't know who they are, we can't shoot too early, they might be friendly." He returned his attention to the com once more. "I repeat, Bravo 0-7, this is Shadow-1, how copy?"

No response. Everyone on board held their breath, watching the TV.

The vehicles began to open fire. Novaleen's eyes rounded. "Commander..."

His voice was getting tense. "Ghost, do you copy, over?"

Ghost was pressed against a tiny rock in the middle of the shallow river, his hand reaching back to press Soap down below the yowling of incoming fire. Novaleen was faint with worry. They wouldn't last long pinned down like that on the low ground. "Philip!"

He pursed his lips in frustration. "Fuck it, we can't wait anymore." Graves pressed the com to his mouth. "Task Force 141! This is Shadow-1! Engaging the bridge north of your position- danger close!" He pointed sharply at Novaleen and Molloy. "Fire, now!"

She laid on the controls, a hot, red blur of gunfire raining down on the bridge, collapsing it like a house of cards with crashing into the river. Two of the vehicles exploded, throwing large hunks of shrapnel everywhere around the 141.

Ghost was rasping hard breaths into the com. "Shadow-1, this is Bravo 0-7! Good shots!"

NAG sighed upon hearing his voice, sinking in her seat a little. "Ah, fuck..." Graves gripped her shoulder and she sat up straight.

Graves licked his dry lips, a smile cracking his features. "It's good to see you boys."

"Likewise, mate." He took off for the shore and shook out his arms, sending splatters of water everywhere. "Graves, we found a vehicle for exfil."

"Roger. Be advised," the commander continued. "We have a possible hit on Hassan, two klicks north of your location. You boys good to roll up Hassan with some fire from the sky?"

The devilish smile on Soap's face could be clearly heard through the com. "Let's wrap this fucker up, Graves."

"Solid copy. We are pushing to the target di-rectly. Shadow-1, out." He nodded as he signed off and started walking back through the cabin. "Loaders, get your rounds in the can. Nav, set a heading for that compound."

Malloy and the other gunner pushed a round into the gun with a solid "clank," and gave Novaleen a thumbs up. "Guns are locked and loaded."

"10-4, thank you very much, boys." She rotated her view to watch Ghost's vehicle and smiled gently. Thank God they had all made it there in time.