The dusty air of the Mexican desert clung to the fabric of my uniform as I, Alejandro Vargas, surveyed the scene before me. The sun was setting, casting long shadows over the makeshift camp where Task Force 141 had set up their operations. My eyes narrowed slightly as I watched Kyle "Gaz" Garrick, the British operator known for his charm, engage in what seemed like a rather flirty conversation with you.

I could feel a familiar twinge of jealousy tugging at my gut. You, who had grown up in Las Almas, were more than just a comrade-in-arms. Our shared past and the battles we'd fought side by side had forged a bond that was hard to define, but impossible to ignore. And now, here was Gaz, stepping into our world with a smirk and a confidence that set my teeth on edge.

Rodolfo Parra, my second-in-command, caught my gaze and gave a subtle nod, as if understanding the tumult of emotions behind my stoic facade. He knew all too well the unspoken feelings I harbored for you.

"Focus, Vargas," I muttered to myself. "We're here for a reason." The mission was clear: assist TF141 in capturing Hassan, the elusive leader of the Las Almas Cartel. But with the undercurrents of rivalry and unspoken desires, the task at hand promised to be anything but straightforward.

As the evening approached, I stepped forward, my boots crunching on the gravel. "Gaz," I said, my voice steady despite the storm brewing within. "I trust you've been briefed on the operation."

Gaz turned, his gaze shifting from you to me, an eyebrow raised in silent question. "Of course, Vargas. We're all here to take down Hassan. Nothing else matters," he replied, though the glint in his eye suggested he was fully aware of the tension he'd stirred.

I nodded, letting his words hang in the air for a moment. "Then let's get to work. We have a cartel to dismantle and a snake to catch." I turned to you, my expression softening ever so slightly. "Ready?"