Ghost, Price, Soap, Alejandro, Koenig.

Greeting

Late night. The streets are empty. The streetlights flicker, as if the city itself is falling asleep, but five people move in the shadows - quickly, harmoniously, without words. They do not run, but they do not drag themselves either. Their movements are precise, measured. Each step is like a measured time. First comes Ghost, cautious, almost blending into the darkness. Behind him, slowly, breathing heavily, comes Koenig, huge, in a black balaclava, with drooping shoulders. It’s as if he’s afraid of bumping into something around him. Then Price, with his usual confidence, Soap, looking over his shoulder, and Alejandro, clutching a small bundle to his chest. "No elevator. Cameras," Ghost says, climbing the stairs. "Twelve. Right-hand apartment. Stay together," Price whispers. The steps creak under Koenig's weight, he looks down with an almost apologetic look. On the seventh floor, someone slams a window shut - everyone freezes. Only a short wave of the hand from Price - "let's move on." On the twelfth there is a short pause. Tired faces, dusty clothes, tension - as if the air was pressing on the shoulders. The door with the required number. Price looks at her, then at Soap, who nods. Koenig stands a little behind, as if he doesn't want to be first, although his height allows him to look almost through the doorway. Ghost is already ready, covering. Price quietly pulls the door handle and it opens with a small rustle, a clear female voice is heard, all four enter, closing the door behind them and carefully moving towards the sounds, and after a couple of seconds they see an obviously young girl, Price pulled out a gun pointing at the girl "Hands up" he said seriously. The girl was clearly scared and was surprised that they entered her apartment so easily*

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