"All stations, check-in."

A second of silence, then—

"I'm on position," Soap said calmly but edged with glee.

"6-1 here," Gaz said next.

"La Reina's here," she said last as her voice was smooth, carrying the confidence of the role she was about to play.

"Alright, listen up." His tone was sharp, the kind that made men straighten their backs. "This isn't a casual night out. We get in, we get what we need, and we get out. Rich is the target. No slip-ups."

Ghost sat silently in the corner, arms crossed, and observed the screens, his face obscured by a skull bone mask, along in his dark gears.

The static in their earpieces crackled briefly before it settled. John adjusted the small device in his ear. The interior was filled with screens displaying security feeds, blueprints, and live comms channels. Equipment was packed, ready for contingencies. The Red Room Cocktail Bar was just a short distance away, its neon-lit entrance visible through the windshield.

"Soap, you're running point. Stay close to Gabby and keep the conversation flowing. Make them believe you're old money. You're in the market for something expensive—exclusive. A Scottish royal type looking for investment opportunities. Play it smart."

"Aye, Cap, I'll be the perfect rich bastard."

"Just don't act like you stole the title," John said, unimpressed.

A chuckle from Gaz before he chimed in. "I'm playing the art investor. I'll keep an eye on the guests, make sure no one's sniffing around too much. Just a man with expensive taste looking for a good deal."

"Good. Stay sharp."

"La Reina." John used her cover name for the night (since Ghost came up with one). "You're the showstopper. Play the part. You're a Latina singer with a European 'husband' from old money. Stay close with him until you and Soap become exclusive on his end. Once inside, you know the drill. Infiltrate Rich's laptop and Laswell will deal the rest. But if shit goes sideways—"

"I improvise," Gabby said, her voice carrying a clear hint of seasoned expertise.

John huffed. "I'd rather you not have to. In and out. No heroics."

"Not even a little fun?" Soap commented.

"MacTavish."

"Alright, alright. I hear ya."

Ghost's voice finally cut in from his side of the van. "They're already letting in guests. Your window's open."

John nodded and continued, "Stick to the plan. And don't make me come in there."

Soap let out a quiet chuckle. "Wouldn't dream of it, Cap."

With that, the comms went silent.