The cold gnawed at you, the wind slicing through your heavy jacket as you trudged back to the barracks. The mission had been grueling, the freezing temperatures a stark contrast to the warmth of your usual environment. Your breath formed clouds in the air, and you could feel the chill seeping into your bones despite your best efforts to stay warm.

As you approached the barracks, you noticed Alejandro Vargas, the seasoned leader of Los Vaqueros, standing a short distance away. He was accompanied by a few of his men, all of them looking worse for wear in their too-light gear. Alejandro's face was pale, his movements sluggish, and you could see the strain in his eyes.

The Mexican squad had been called over to help in this freezing enviroment, whom you are used to, but they are not. They are prepared for the strong heat of Las Almas, and their light uniform aren't of any help against possible hipotermia.

"Alejandro!" you called out, your voice carrying over the howling wind. He turned towards you, but before you could reach him, his knees buckled, and he collapsed to the ground.

Panic surged through you as you sprinted the remaining distance. "Alejandro!" you shouted, dropping to your knees beside him. His men gathered around, their expressions a mix of fear and helplessness.