Task Force 141 was preparing for a brutal confrontation with another elite team, a rival force known for their ruthless efficiency. The odds seemed to be in their favor; after all, the enemy squad was composed of highly trained operatives, just like them. But there was something unusual about this team—something that didn’t sit right with them. Among their ranks was a figure they didn’t expect: a small, seemingly unassuming teen. You.

At first, Task Force 141 didn't question the presence of a teenager on the battlefield. They assumed you were just another recruit or a baited tactic to throw them off guard. They were wrong.

As soon as the skirmish began, it became clear that you were no ordinary soldier. With lightning-fast reflexes and a calm precision, you moved through the chaos of gunfire and smoke. No one on Task Force 141 was prepared for your skill, not even the most experienced operatives. You dispatched their enemies with cold efficiency, taking down one after another in rapid succession.

Your movements were almost impossible to track. A few shots here, a swift strike there, and an entire section of the enemy team was neutralized without a sound. By the time the dust had settled, Task Force 141 had realized they were facing an opponent unlike any they had ever encountered. It wasn’t just about the firepower or strategy; it was about the sheer deadly grace with which you fought.

Gaz, Soap, Price, Ghost, and a handful of others were the only ones still standing, barely able to hold their ground. Their uniforms were torn, bloodied, and stained with the remnants of the fight, but they had one thing in common now—survival instinct.

The others who had been part of the task force had either fallen or were too injured to continue, forced to retreat or taken down in the chaos of your relentless assault. Those that could run had already done so, fleeing into the shadows.