The Four Horsemen had always moved in silence, their operations planned in whispers and executed with precision. It was fitting, then, that their reunion took place in the shadows of an abandoned safe house on the outskirts of Istanbul. The building was a relic of past missions, its walls cracked but secure, its rooms empty but still functional.

War arrived first, his bag slung over one shoulder, his stride purposeful. He swept through the building with practiced efficiency, checking exits, noting structural weaknesses, and marking potential choke points. Old habits died hard. Satisfied, he sat at a scarred wooden table in the main room, the faint hum of fluorescent lights buzzing above him.

The door creaked open behind him, and he turned, his hand instinctively going to the Glock holstered at his hip. Famine stepped in, his expression as cold and sharp as the Alaskan wilderness he had left behind.

“Still paranoid, I see,” Famine said, setting his bag down with a thud.

“Still reckless, I see,” War shot back, a faint smirk tugging at his lips.

The two men exchanged a nod, a silent acknowledgment of respect and camaraderie forged in fire. War poured two cups of coffee from a thermos he had brought, sliding one across the table. Famine took it without a word, sipping slowly as the tension between them began to ease.

An hour later, the sound of tires crunching over gravel signaled the arrival of the last member of their team. The door opened, and Daniel “Conquest” Hayes stepped inside, his tailored suit replaced with tactical gear that seemed to fit him as naturally as his boardroom attire once had.

“Gentlemen,” Conquest said, his voice smooth and confident. He tossed his bag onto the table and took a seat. “I hope you haven’t started without me.”

“Just waiting on you,” War said. “As usual.”

“Some of us don’t live in the woods or lecture halls,” Conquest quipped. “Traffic from the airport was hell.”

War rolled his eyes but didn’t press. The tension that had been hanging in the air since the Harbinger’s call began to settle as the three men exchanged brief greetings. They hadn’t been in the same room in years, but the bond between them remained unbroken.

Finally, the faint buzz of a secure line interrupted their reunion. War pulled out the phone, placing it on the table and activating the speaker. The Harbinger’s voice crackled to life.

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“You’re all here,” he said. It wasn’t a question.

“We are,” War replied. “What’s the situation?”

There was a pause, then the Harbinger’s tone darkened. “Marcus is being held in a black site near the Syrian border. It’s under Harrington’s control—fortified, heavily guarded, and off the books. If you’re going in, you’ll need to be surgical.”

“Where exactly?” Conquest asked, his tone clipped.

The Harbinger rattled off coordinates, and Famine opened a map, marking the location. It was remote, nestled between mountains and canyons—an ideal spot for a clandestine operation.

“What’s the layout?” Famine asked.

“Main compound has three levels,” the Harbinger explained. “Ground floor is the perimeter security and living quarters for guards. Second floor is admin and storage. The basement… that’s where they’re keeping Marcus.”

“Basement,” War muttered, his jaw tightening. “Means it’s locked down. What about external patrols?”

“Rotating shifts, six-hour cycles,” the Harbinger replied. “Drones cover the perimeter, and there’s a sniper nest overlooking the main approach.”

Famine studied the map, his mind already racing. “We’ll need a distraction to pull the patrols off the perimeter. Something to make them think we’re coming in from the west while we breach the east.”

“Agreed,” Conquest said, leaning forward. “Once we’re inside, we neutralize the basement guards first. Secure Marcus, then exfil before they can mobilize reinforcements.”

War nodded, his expression grim. “It’s going to be loud.”

“It doesn’t have to be,” Conquest countered. “We take them out quietly, buy ourselves time.”

“And if we can’t?” War said, his eyes narrowing. “If it goes loud, we need a contingency.”

“Leave that to me,” Famine said, his tone cold. “I’ll make sure they have nothing to chase us with.”

The Harbinger interrupted. “One more thing. Harrington knows how dangerous Marcus is. If you think he’s being kept alive for leverage, you’re wrong. They want to break him. Once they get what they need, they’ll kill him.”

War clenched his fists, his voice low. “Then we don’t give them the chance.”

The room fell silent for a moment, the gravity of their mission settling over them.

“What about exfil?” Conquest asked finally.

The Harbinger hesitated. “You’re on your own for that. I can’t pull strings without drawing attention, not with Harrington watching. Once you have Marcus, you’ll need to move fast.”

“Understood,” Conquest said. “We’ll figure it out.”

War leaned forward, his hands on the table. “This isn’t just about getting Marcus out, is it? Harrington’s going to know someone hit his site, and when he does, he’ll come after us.”

“He’ll try,” Famine said, a faint smirk on his lips. “But he won’t succeed.”

The Harbinger spoke again, his tone quiet but firm. “This is the most dangerous thing you’ve ever done. If you fail, you’re not just dead. You’re erased.”

“We’re not going to fail,” War said, his voice steady. “We’ve got Marcus to bring back. That’s all the reason we need.”

The Harbinger paused, then said, “Good luck. I’ll be monitoring.”

The line went dead, leaving the Horsemen in silence. War looked at the other two, his gaze hard.

“We move at dawn,” he said. “Get some rest.”

Famine stood, his movements smooth as he began checking his gear. Conquest leaned back in his chair, his mind already running through contingencies. War remained at the table, staring at the map, his focus unshakable.

Marcus was out there, waiting. And the Four Horsemen were riding once again.