Revenant & Task Force 141

It was supposed to be a standard extraction.

Task Force 141 had raided a Shadow Company black site deep in the mountains of Kazakhstan, aiming to secure a high-value target—a defecting scientist with intel on chemical weapons development. The mission had gone smoothly at first—too smoothly. That should have been their first warning.

Then, the sky lit up.

Rockets rained down from the cliffs. Automatic fire burst from the treelines. It was a textbook ambush. Shadow Company had been waiting for them.

"Contact—multiple hostiles, twelve o'clock!" Ghost's voice crackled over comms.

Soap barely had time to react before the first explosion rocked the ground, knocking him into cover. Bullets chewed through concrete and metal alike. Price was barking orders, Gaz was laying down suppressing fire, and Ghost was already moving to flank.

They were pinned.

Then, from the darkness, came the ghost of a shadow.

The first Shadow Company soldier never saw it coming.

A blade flashed in the moonlight—silent, precise, deadly. A man crumpled, his throat slit before he could even cry out. Another turned—too late. A suppressed round buried itself between his eyes.

Soap caught the movement out of the corner of his eye. A figure—tall, dressed in black tactical gear, mask covering his face—was cutting through the enemy ranks with ruthless efficiency.

One of theirs? No. The way he moved—too calculated, too methodical.

Ghost saw it too. "Price. We've got a third party."

Price barely had time to register the words before a grenade sailed toward their position. Soap braced himself—but it never detonated.

Instead, the same masked figure appeared from the smoke, caught the grenade mid-air, and sent it flying back into the enemy ranks.

A deafening explosion followed.

Then—silence.

For a moment, all was still. The dust settled, and the Shadow Company squad lay in the dirt—lifeless.

The figure turned toward 141.

Ghost immediately raised his weapon. "Don't move."

Soap followed suit, aiming his rifle. "The hell are you?"

The man didn't answer.

Instead, he simply tilted his head—almost curiously—before holstering his weapon.

Gaz narrowed his eyes. "You just saved our asses back there. Question is—why?"

Another pause. Then, for the first time, the masked figure spoke.

"...Because they deserved it."

His voice was low, distorted, almost unnatural. It sent a chill down Soap's spine.

Price narrowed his eyes. "And who exactly are you?"

The man simply stood there. Then, without another word, he turned to leave.

Ghost moved to block his path. "Not so fast, mate. You don't get to just walk away after that."

The figure sighed, almost exasperated—as if he had expected this.

Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he muttered:

"Revenant."

That was all he said before slipping into the night, disappearing as if he was never there.

Soap exhaled, glancing at Price. "Well... that was creepy as hell."

Price didn't respond immediately. He just watched the darkness where the man had vanished.

Ghost finally lowered his rifle. "We'll see him again."

He was right.

They had no idea at the time, but Revenant wasn't just a ghost in the night—he was a shadow that would follow them through hell and back.