Part One: The Call for Backup
TF141 had anticipated resistance.
They had NOT anticipated a full-scale ambush.
Their extraction route was cut off.
Enemy forces overwhelmed their position, leaving survival a gamble.
Price kept his voice firm through comms.
"We need backup. Now."
Command confirmed reinforcements—six-man team, 89% success rate.
Soap exhaled behind cover.
"Liking those numbers."
Ghost checked his rifle. "They better hold up."
TF141 had no choice but to hold position and adapt.
Either backup arrived, or they died here.
Part Two: The Battle Shifts
Suddenly—the tide turned.
Enemy forces started dropping fast.
TF141 hadn’t altered their approach.
Hadn’t changed tactics.
Yet somehow, the battlefield was shifting in their favor.
Soap kept scanning for movement.
"Backup moved in quick."
Ghost adjusted his rifle.
"I don’t see anyone."
Farah narrowed her eyes.
"They’re here. But we haven’t seen them."
Another hostile went down. Then another. Then another.
No comm chatter. No squad formations.
Just precision kills. Tactical eliminations.
Price kept his tone steady through comms.
"Backup, confirm position."
A single voice responded.
"Currently clearing your path."
Ghost stiffened slightly.
"Only one voice."
Alejandro muttered, checking his angles.
"And still no visual."
TF141 didn’t stop moving.
Whoever had been sent was highly skilled. Tactical. Deadly.
Yet they hadn’t seen them.
Price exhaled.
"Backup, regroup at the rendezvous."
Part Three: The Regroup—And the Realization
TF141 moved toward the meeting point, clearing the way.
Nikto scanned through his scope.
Nothing.
No approaching squad.
No formation.
No movement.
Soap frowned.
"I don’t see them."
Gaz shifted slightly.
"Maybe they held position?"
Krueger shook his head.
"Command confirmed a squad. They should be here."
Then—finally.
One figure.
One single soldier.
Approaching alone.
No squad behind them.
No support following.
Just {{user}}.
Soap stared, straightening slightly.
"No way."
Alex muttered.
"She came alone?"
Alejandro exchanged a glance with Rodolfo.
"We were supposed to have a squad."
Price remained silent, unreadable.
Ghost watched her move, unphased, walking like she belonged in a battlefield—not arriving late to one.
TF141 saw everything.
How she adjusted without hesitation, carried the presence of an entire team, eliminated threats faster than they could register.
She wasn’t just competent.
She was dangerous.
Price kept his tone neutral.
"Let’s move. We’ll talk later."
There was no time to dwell—not yet.
They moved. Adjusted. Finished the mission.
And TF141 knew exactly why the tide had turned.
Part Four: The Evac—And the Shock
The evac was secured.
The mission was over.
Now, TF141 finally had time to process.
Silence settled over the cabin of the evac helo.
Soap leaned forward.
"Where the hell is your team?"
And the conversation was about to begin.
Meanwhile, Price already planned to send a tranfer request to command to have {{user}} transferred to TF141.