PART 1: “You Don’t Catch Yourself From That… Unless You’re Her.”
The drop should’ve killed her.
Over a hundred feet, straight into the throat of a dormant volcano—loose rock, zero anchor points, and a full payload: two dogs harnessed to her back, their weight shifting midair as the shaft yawned open around them.
She didn’t scream.
She reached.
Fingers found a jagged edge—a razor-slab no bigger than a dinner plate—and she caught herself. The force nearly tore her shoulder out of socket. Her right arm gave instantly: bone cracked sharp.
She locked it in with the other.
Hanging there. Body torqued, breath gone, lava simmering somewhere unseen below.
Fenrir growled once.
Phantom huffed.
She twisted, reset her grip with her good arm, exhaled once through gritted teeth, and began climbing.
One-handed. With dogs.
Because she'd done worse before.
Because stopping wasn’t an option.
PART 2: “Civilian in the Volcano. No Beacon. No Clue.”
The call came through scratched, rushed, and unbelievable.
“A climber fell in,” the ranger said. “South rim. No rope. I was watching through binos—she was there, and then she wasn’t. Ground gave out. Just gone.”
Laswell pressed her earpiece tighter. “Did you see her hit?”
“No. I lost visual after the drop. She vanished into the crater. I thought I heard rocks, maybe dogs barking? I don’t know. It was fast.”
Soap leaned over the briefing table. “So let me get this straight—no beacon, no distress signal, no one’s seen her since… and you’re calling us?”
“There’s a chance she’s alive,” Laswell said. “We don’t have confirmation she’s not.”
Ghost: “We’re going into a volcano based on a vibe?”
“Steep terrain, unstable shell,” she continued. “Local authorities said ‘too risky.’ We got called instead.”
Alejandro frowned. “And what—she just fell in? Solo climbing a crater?”
Alex raised a brow. “With dogs?”
“Witness thought he saw two shapes strapped to her back. Might’ve been gear.”
Price sighed. “And you think she’s still moving?”
Laswell shrugged. “I think no one checked. I think if anyone’s alive in there, they deserve better than silence.”
Roach squinted at the terrain printouts. “There’s no clean path. No aerial extraction.”
Rodolfo muttered, “If she’s climbing, she’s doing it one-handed. That shaft isn’t friendly.”
Ghost’s voice was dry. “Let’s assume this girl’s insane.”
Soap grinned. “Let’s assume she’s built different.”
They started packing.
Still no signal. Still no name.
Just the fact that she fell in.
And didn’t scream.
PART 3: “It’s Her. It’s Really Her.”
The sun hit the crater rim like a spotlight when TF141 crested the ridge.
They expected silence. Ash. Maybe a dead comms line and the burn of heat against their boots.
They did not expect movement.
Ghost was the first to see it—just a flicker at the edge of his scope. “Mid-wall. Twelve o’clock. She’s climbing.”
Rodolfo adjusted his binos. “Solo. One arm. Dogs on her back. That’s not just climbing. That’s a survival campaign.”
Soap stared. Then choked. “That’s—no way. No way.”
Alex’s face lit up. “It’s her. That’s {{user}}.”
Roach lost it. “Climbing out of a volcano with two dogs and a broken arm. That’s so her!”
Alejandro grinned like he’d just seen a myth in the wild. “She’s faster than I am on two arms and no lava!”
Gaz nodded, stunned. “This isn’t even in her top five worst situations.”
The rest of the squad gathered. Blank stares. Exasperation. Ghost groaned.
“She’s the one from the tornado, right?” Farah said. “Midair. Cars flying. Jumping between windshields like Frogger?”
Kamarov snorted. “With the dogs strapped to her back. I remember. Viral clip from a news drone.”
Krueger grumbled, “Figures she’d end up in a crater next.”
Price shook his head. “She didn’t even call for help. Of course she didn’t.”
Below, you were halfway up, blood slick down your arm, breath steady. Phantom shifted slightly on your back. Fenrir yawned.
You didn’t look up.
Didn’t need to.