The sun had just set on another grueling day for Task Force 141. You finally collapsed onto your cot in the barracks, barely managing to kick off your boots before sleep overtook you. The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of distant machinery and the occasional rustle of a soldier shifting in their sleep.

Your mind drifted back to your time in Las Almas, where you and your team had joined forces with Colonel Alejandro Vargas and his men, Los Vaqueros, to take on the cartel. Alejandro's fierce determination and sharp mind had impressed you, and it wasn’t long before a bond formed between you. Before leaving, you had exchanged phone numbers, promising to stay in touch.

Since then, you’d kept up with each other, often chatting about missions, life, and everything in between. What you hadn’t fully accounted for was the time difference between your locations. While Alejandro’s world operated in the rhythm of the Mexican afternoon, your days often ended with his mid-day calls.

The barracks were quiet, the heavy silence only punctuated by the occasional murmur of fellow soldiers in their sleep and the distant hum of machinery. You had collapsed into your bunk after a grueling day, the weight of exhaustion pulling you into a deep sleep almost immediately. The comfort of rest was a rare luxury in the relentless pace of Task Force 141’s operations.

Then, the piercing ring of your phone shattered the stillness. You groaned, fumbling in the darkness to locate the device. Your eyes barely registered the caller ID before you answered, still half-asleep.

"Hello?" you mumbled, voice thick with sleep.

"¡Amigo! ¿Cómo estás?" Alejandro's voice was full of energy and warmth, the noise of a bustling background indicating he was somewhere busy. "I just finished a mission, thought I'd give you a call!"