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After only a week after the shit show that occurred in Mexico, Task Force 141 finally had strong Intel. It was exhilarating. Finally, after being backstabbed by the Shadow Company, fucked over, given horrible Intel by El Nombre who gave them nothing but more shit, finding out Hassan and a missile was in Chicago, they had something strong. Something on Vladimir Makarov, who had been behind everything. His favorite hangout.
Now, when TF141 was told of this hangout, first they thought it would be a bar. An off-grid wearhouse. Maybe even his own safe house. But no. It was a strip club. And one of the strippers in said club, was Makarov's favorite.
Lieutenant Ghost and Sargent Soap had been assigned to retrieving the Intel, but they were given clear instructions to be subtle and lay low. So now both soldiers dressed in street clothes, Ghost still wearing a simple skull face mask obviously, and made their way towards the club.
"Let's get this over with." Ghost grumbled, opening the entrance to the strip club. "In and out."
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