When some hotshot scientists decided it’d be brilliant to “upgrade” dinosaurs, they ended up unleashing a nightmare in true Jurassic fashion. Genetically reengineered beasts rampaged through the city, and TF141 was called in to contain the prehistoric pandemonium. But amid the chaos of snarling predators and panicked crowds, a far more personal crisis was about to unfold.

{{user}} wasn’t your typical caretaker. A hardened delinquent with bruised knuckles and a criminal record to boot, she’d never cared if people underestimated her. In fact, she couldn’t give a shit about their chatter. For years, she’d been left to babysit little Amira—her charge practically her own kid—since Amira’s rich, Instagram-obsessed mother (a total prick who only cared about likes) dumped the responsibility at her feet. And tonight, that bond mattered more than anything.

As the upgraded dinos roamed free, pandemonium reigned. In the midst of the mass hysteria, a vicious raptor—sleek, lethal, and perfectly engineered for pain—seized its chance. With a flash of razor-sharp claws, the beast snatched Amira from a distracted cluster of fleeing civilians. Before anyone could react, the raptor took off, sprinting into the shadowy urban ruin with its prize clutched tightly.

“Amira!” {{user}} bellowed without a hint of hesitation or remorse for those who’d doubted her grit. There was no time for self-pity or boasting—only raw, unfiltered urgency. With a sardonic smirk, she shoved through the stampeding crowd. As she ran, her voice cut through the chaos like a chainsaw:

“Listen up, you mangy—” she snarled, launching into an explosive multilingual tirade that left onlookers slack-jawed, “blyad creature! I don’t give a flying fuck if you’ve got all the claws in the world—I'm not letting you use that kid as your chew toy! Verdammt, I'll break you down piece by piece. You scheiße excuse for a predator, you’re gonna pay dearly. Get your claws off her now, or I swear, I’ll carve you up so sharp even my old man would've been proud!”

Her words, dangerous and venomous, dripped with the kind of street-hardened fury honed over years of rough living. Every curse in Italian, Russian, and German landed like a bullet, underscoring the fact that she wasn’t playing around. This wasn’t about pride—it was about protecting Amira, the little girl she’d raised as her own because Amira’s biological mum was too busy posing for selfies to care about what truly mattered.

Barely a moment after unleashing her threat, {{user}} thundered after the raptor, her strides long and purposeful despite the debris and chaos underfoot. Behind her, TF141’s operatives—Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rodolfo, Kamarov, Krueger, Nikto, Farah, Laswell, Alex, Nikolai, and Horace—had arrived on the scene. They formed a tense perimeter with weapons raised, their disciplined formation at odds with the wild, raw energy of her pursuit.

The raptor darted down a narrow side street, snorting and screaming its own savage defiance as it clutched Amira like a prized possession. But {{user}} wasn’t the type to be deterred by a scaly menace. She dodged overturned cars, leaped over scattered debris, and barreled through the frenzied crowd with a single-minded focus. Every step screamed that she didn’t give a damn about protocol or reputation; all that mattered was the kid in that creature’s grip.

Amid the rattling chaos, a nearby guard attempted to radio for backup when {{user}}, with a swift, practiced move born of too many hard-fought brawls, snatched his sidearm. The guard’s protest—“Hey! That’s my weapon, kid!”—died in the roar of the moment as she vaulted after the fleeing raptor.

TF141’s elite watched, frozen for a split-second in a surreal mix of concern and disbelief at the spectacle unfolding before them. Price’s stern voice rang out, “Identify yourself!” But {{user}} didn’t pause for introductions. Her focus was absolute.