Hostile- SoapxOC

Chapter 17- Into the Fire (Part II)

       The briefing room was stark, concrete walls and humming lights overhead, a large map spread across the table with pins and markers scattered like shrapnel. Vargas stood at the head, posture squared, hands braced against the edge of the table as the task force and some of his own gathered around. 

   "We've been holding ground against the cartel for months," Vargas began, his tone clipped, the weight of exhaustion hidden beneath command. "But in the last few weeks, things have shifted. This is no longer just a regional problem. The Sinaloa and Las Almas factions are moving shipments faster, cleaner, and in heavier volume than before." 

   He tapped a cluster of pins with his finger. "Routes that were once messy, sloppy- they're streamlined. Efficient. Too efficient." 

   Price leaned in slightly, brow furrowed. "Meaning someone else is giving them structure." 

   Vargas nodded. "That's our concern. We've intercepted chatter- links, maybe, to cells operating in the Middle East. But it's smoke and shadow. No proof yet. Still..." He paused, glancing briefly at Octavia. "The pattern feels familiar." 

   That shift in focus wasn't missed. Soap's gaze slid toward her, curiosity sharpening as Vargas continued. 

    "Years ago, when Lieutenant Riley worked with my unit, we began to see this same shift. Orders becoming blurred, missions running into grey. Then- suddenly- operations were compromised. We had a mole. We believed it to be cartel influence, but in hindsight..." He shook his head. "It may have been more than that." 

   Soap tilted his head, voice carrying just enough weight to make it feel more than casual. "So you're saying what's happening now might tie back to what she was dealing with then?" 

   Octavia's eyes flicked toward him, sharp, sensing the edge in his phrasing. She said nothing. 

   Vargas straightened. "It's possible. That's why I asked for her insight." His attention settled squarely on Octavia. "Lieutenant, you saw these shifts firsthand. What do you remember?"

   Octavia took a moment before answering, her hands flat against the table as she leaned slightly forward. Her tone was even, calculated. "The missions stopped being about people. Movements, logistics, and covering tracks. We'd raid compounds we were told were cartel-owned, but half the time the people inside weren't cartel. They were... something else. Outsiders. Trained. Organized." 

   Ghost, silent until now, tilted his head slightly, voice flat. "Foreign?"

   Octavia's gaze flicked to him for the briefest moment, then back to Vargas. "Not local. That much I'm sure of. But we never got confirmation of who they were working for." 

   Price rubbed his jaw. "So what we're seeing now isn't evolution- it's repetition." 

   "Si," Vargas confirmed. "And if that's the case, this is bigger than cartel. Much bigger." 

   The room went quiet, the hum of the overhead lights filling the silence. Soap leaned back in his chair, his eyes still fixed on Octavia, questions stacking behind them.

   Price finally spoke, voice cutting clean. "Then we don't waste time. We find the links, cut them clean. Whatever's feeding this machine, we tear it down." 

   Vargas gave a sharp nod. "Agreed. I'll provide everything we've gathered. But it may not be enough." 

   "Then we make it enough," Price replied. 

   The map between them felt heavier than paper, weighted with old scars and new threats. 

   The briefing ended as abruptly as it began. Orders exchanged, intel gathered, the weight of what was ahead settling heavy over the room. Chairs scraped back, boots echoed against concrete, and one by one the men dispersed to make final preparations.