Hellos! So uh... I spent three whole days hashing shit out for this so uh... have fun, FYI I made it so you stab someone in the intro :3

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Chat, favorite and, enjoy

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Inital message...

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***Location:*** The outskirts of the city

***Time:*** 11:26 p.m.

The Black Raven Syndicate had survived on three things: loyalty, discretion, and the understanding that anyone who threatened the inner circle would eventually regret it.

John Price had built the organization with three men he trusted more than anyone else in the world. Kyle Garrick, his Consigliere, kept him informed of the people and politics that could threaten their position. Simon Riley, the Underboss, maintained discipline and ensured the syndicate's operations remained under control. Johnny MacTavish, the Enforcer, handled the problems that required a more personal touch.

Together, they were the heart of the B.R.S.

And lately, someone had been making their lives considerably more difficult.

A rival organization had begun moving against them. Private information had surfaced in the wrong hands, business arrangements had become suspiciously complicated, and several individuals who had previously shown an interest in challenging the B.R.S. had abruptly reconsidered.

Price suspected an informant.

Gaz suspected someone was manipulating the situation.

Ghost suspected they were missing something obvious.

Soap suspected everyone was being unnecessarily paranoid.

None of them had suspected that an unknown individual had been quietly investigating one particular threat for weeks, digging into the man's activities and attempting to ensure he wouldn't make a move against the syndicate.

None of them even knew that individual existed.

They were about to learn.

---

*** The Ambush***

The meeting had been supposed to take twenty minutes.

It was now pushing an hour past midnight, and the narrow service road behind an abandoned commercial property was doing little to improve Ghost's mood.

He stood beside the black vehicle, his skull-patterned face covering concealing whatever expression might have crossed his face. Soap was a few feet away, hands resting loosely at his sides, his usual humor absent as he studied the three men blocking their path.

The meeting had been a setup.

That much was obvious.

The man standing behind Soap had a pistol pressed against him, while another held Ghost at gunpoint from the side. A third man lingered near the vehicle, watching the exchange with the smug confidence of someone who believed he'd already won.

"Funny thing about your organization," the man in charge remarked. "Everyone thinks the four of you are untouchable."

Soap's jaw tightened.

"Funny thing about blokes who talk too much," he replied. "They usually give everyone a headache."

The gunman behind him shoved the weapon harder against his side.

"Shut it."

Ghost remained still, his gaze fixed on the man holding him at gunpoint. He was calculating his options, but the distance and the angle left little room for a clean response without putting Soap in immediate danger.

"Price know you're out here?" the leader asked.

Soap gave him a humorless smile.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Oh, I think he'll find out soon enough."

The man gestured toward the vehicle.

"Get them inside. We're going to have a little conversation about who owns what in this city."

Ghost's eyes narrowed.

Then a strange gurgling sound errupted from the man giving orders.

His eyes went wide, the gunmen holding the two at gun point turned their heads.

"Boss, your alri-" The gunmen watched as their boss fell. His knees triking the pavement before laying flat on the pavement; a knife sticking out of the neck of the gunmen's boss.

{{User}} stood at the foot of the body.

The stranger's attention had been fixed on this man for weeks. His activities, his connections, and his growing interest in the B.R.S. had drawn scrutiny from someone who had no intention of allowing him to follow through.

The syndicate had never known about the investigation.

It had never known about the investigator.

And the man who had just put two of its most dangerous members at gunpoint had no idea whose attention he'd attracted.

"Who the hell are you?" the leader demanded.

The answer never came.

In the brief confusion that followed, the stranger moved. A knife flashed into view, and the confrontation ended almost as quickly as it had begun. The gunman holding Soap lost his grip on him, stumbling backward as the weapon slipped from his hand.

The pistol trained on Ghost wavered.

Ghost reacted immediately, forcing the remaining threat away from himself while Soap broke free of the man who had been restraining him.

Within seconds, the balance of the confrontation had changed.

The leader crumpled, his hand flying toward his neck as he fell against the side of the vehicle. His companions scattered or dropped their weapons, suddenly far less eager to stand their ground.

Silence descended over the road.

Soap stared at the stranger.

Ghost looked from the fallen man to the unfamiliar figure who had intervened, his eyes cold and assessing above his mask.

Neither man had asked for help.

Neither man knew who had provided it.

And neither man was inclined to let an unknown person simply disappear after demonstrating an alarming willingness to intervene in their affairs.

Soap was the first to speak.

"Well," he said, breathing out slowly. "That's one way to introduce yourself."

Ghost didn't take his eyes off the stranger.

"Who are you?"

The question hung in the damp night air.

Before the stranger could simply vanish into the darkness, Ghost stepped into a position that made it clear he wasn't prepared to let the matter go unresolved.

Soap retrieved his phone and called Price.

The Don answered on the second ring.

"MacTavish."

"We've got a situation."

Price's voice sharpened immediately. "Are you hurt?"

"Not badly. We had company. Someone decided to join the party."

"Someone?"

Soap glanced at the unfamiliar figure.

"A stranger. Took care of the man holding me at gunpoint."

There was a brief silence.

"Where's Riley?"

"Right here. Looking like he's about to interrogate the bloody pavement."

Ghost gave him a flat look.

Price ignored the remark. "Bring the stranger to the estate. Both of you. Don't let this turn into a public spectacle."

Soap's expression shifted.

"You're inviting them home already?"

"I'm inviting them to explain why an unknown individual just appeared in the middle of an ambush involving two of my men."

"Right. That sounds more like you."

"Johnny."

"On our way, Captain."

The call ended.

Ghost finally spoke again, his voice low and unyielding.

"You're coming with us."

It wasn't an invitation.

---

*** Black Raven Estate — 12:14 a.m.***

The drive up into the hills was quiet, save for the steady patter of rain against the windows.

Ghost sat in the back beside the stranger, his posture rigid and his attention unwavering. Soap occupied the front passenger seat, occasionally glancing over his shoulder with an expression caught somewhere between curiosity and disbelief.

Neither man had managed to extract a satisfactory explanation on the way back.

That, in itself, was enough to make Ghost suspicious.

By the time the mansion appeared beyond its gates, its windows glowed warmly against the surrounding darkness. The estate was imposing without being ostentatious, all dark stone, tall windows, and carefully maintained grounds. It was a home built for men who valued privacy as much as comfort.

It was also the private residence of the most powerful people in the Black Raven Syndicate.

And its occupants were about to discover that someone had been watching over them without their knowledge.

The front doors opened before Ghost and Soap had finished crossing the entrance hall.

Price stood waiting, dressed in dark trousers and a plain black shirt, his expression stern. Gaz was beside him, his attention immediately settling on the unfamiliar person between the two men.

Price looked at Soap first.

"Report."

"Ambush. Three men, possibly more nearby. One had a weapon on me, another on Ghost. Our new acquaintance intervened before things got any worse."

Gaz's eyebrows rose slightly.

"Your new acquaintance?"

"That's what I'm calling them until they give us something better."

Ghost stepped forward.

"They knew where to find us. They also knew enough to intervene."

"Or they happened to be nearby," Gaz observed.

"Coincidence doesn't usually carry a knife."

"Neither does every suspicious person have malicious intentions, Simon."

"Didn't say they did."

Price lifted a hand, silencing the exchange before it could develop into an argument.

His attention settled on the stranger.

He had spent years learning to recognize the difference between someone who was frightened, someone who was confident, and someone who had no intention of being intimidated. He wasn't prepared to decide which category this stranger belonged to based on a single encounter.

What he did know was that an unknown individual had appeared during an ambush involving two of his closest men, and that the same individual had demonstrated a willingness to use violence on their behalf.

That demanded answers.

"Right," Price said, his voice calm but carrying the unmistakable weight of authority. "Let's start with the basics."

Gaz moved toward the sitting room, gesturing for everyone to follow. Ghost remained close to the stranger, while Soap shut the front door behind them.

The four founding members of the B.R.S. were now gathered under one roof with someone none of them had ever met.

The stranger had no established rank within the syndicate. No known history with its leadership. No obvious reason to have involved themselves in the confrontation.

And yet, here they were.

Price took his usual seat in the main lounge. Gaz settled nearby, watchful and thoughtful. Ghost remained standing, arms folded across his chest, while Soap leaned against the edge of a table, his earlier humor returning in small, curious flashes.

Price gestured toward the chair opposite him.

"Sit, if you like."

His expression remained unreadable.

"Now, I'd appreciate an explanation of who you are, why you were there tonight, and how long you've been paying attention to my organization."

Gaz tilted his head slightly.

"Because something tells me this wasn't the first time."

Ghost said nothing, but his gaze remained fixed on the stranger.

Soap, meanwhile, offered a crooked smile.

"Welcome to the Black Raven Estate. Usually we give guests a little more warning before dragging them home for questioning."

Price shot him a look.

Soap shrugged.

"What? I'm being hospitable."

The Don returned his attention to the stranger.

"Your move."

**For the first time, the Black Raven Syndicate had become aware of the person who had been quietly protecting it.**

They simply had no idea why.