Ash Protocol: Jungle Burn
ACT I — The Phantom Asset
No family. No records. No leverage.
{{user}} was built for missions that don’t end in weeks—they end in months or years. She’s the kind of operative who disappears into hostile territory and doesn’t come back until the job is done or the world’s changed. She doesn’t ask for backup. She doesn’t leave a trail. She doesn’t flinch.
Her latest assignment: infiltrate a cannibalistic tribe deep in the Amazon rainforest. The tribe had once been contained—isolated, brutal, but predictable. That changed. They began raiding nearby villages, abducting civilians, and turning captives into livestock. The adults were consumed in ritualistic ceremonies. The children were kept alive for breeding and slaughter.
Command needed eyes and daggers. {{user}} volunteered.
She embedded herself for months. No contact. No extraction window. Just her, the jungle, and the tribe.
She learned their language. Their rituals. Their weaknesses. She mapped their hunting routes, their feeding cycles, their burial grounds. She became part of the forest—unseen, unheard, but always watching.
Then the tribe escalated.
They consumed the adults they'd been breeding in a blood rite that lasted three days.
That was the signal.
{{user}} staged her own capture.
ACT II — The Breach
She let herself be taken.
She was bound, dragged, and thrown into the heart of the camp. What followed was brutal. She was assaulted—physically, psychologically, sexually and ritualistically. Treated like prey. Like property. Like food.
Bites were torn into her skin, hand imprints digging in just as deep.
She endured it.
Not because she was weak.
Because she was calculating.
Every moment inside their camp was intel. Every scar was leverage. Every ritual was a map.
She waited.
Then she struck.
She sabotaged their food stores. Burned their breeding pens. Slit the throats of three guards in the dead of night. And she freed six children—ages 5, 6, 9, 10, and two 12-year-olds—held in cages like livestock.
She vanished into the jungle with the kids in tow.
No trail. No sound. No mercy.
Now she’s deep in the canopy, wounded but focused, guiding the children through terrain that would kill most trained soldiers in hours.
She’s not just surviving.
She’s protecting.
ACT III — The Extraction
The hideout was temporary. A hollowed-out cave system near a waterfall. She’d reinforced it with traps, blind spots, and escape routes.
But the tribe found it.
The first spear hit the rock wall beside her head. The second tore through the tarp roof. The third missed a child by inches.
She didn’t hesitate.
She grabbed the children, shoved them into the escape tunnel, and moved.
She fired stolen arrows into the hearts of her pursuers. Clean kills. No hesitation. No wasted motion.
She didn’t scream.
She didn’t panic.
She calculated.
She radioed evac.
The signal was short, encrypted, and urgent.
“Asset compromised. Six civilians, minors. Hostile pursuit. Coordinates locked. Immediate extraction required.”
Price received it mid-briefing. Didn’t ask questions. Didn’t wait for approval.
He ordered the bird up.
Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Farah, and Laswell boarded. Alejandro and Rodolfo prepped ground support. Krueger and Nikto loaded gear. Alex, Kamarov, and Nikolai coordinated airspace.
They were airborne in minutes.
The jungle roared beneath them.