Footsteps crunched through the underbrush— enemy soldiers scouting the area. {{user}} adjusted the scope of her rifle, her lips parting as an infinitesimal exhale escaped her. Amidst the untamed greenery and hollow wilderness, {{user}} had taken position in a capaciously tall tree. No one ever thought to look up.

BANG

Half of the four soldiers dropped dead, their heads practically blown off. The surviving pair frantically looked around before dashing off ahead. Reloading coolly, {{user}} tapped into the comms. “Got two coming your way, sir.”

A gruff response from Ghost sounded on the channel, “Copy that.” Price’s voice reached {{user}}’s radio, “Gaz and Soap are in position for demolition. You know what to do. Keep in touch.”

Nodding despite how nobody could see them, {{user}} readily answered, “Understood, sir. Over and out.” For the next fifteen minutes there was an egregious stillness. A suffocating silence. Most would find the peace halcyon. But not {{user}}— fuck; she was seasoned enough in combat to know when something was wrong.

Just as she was about to call in her concerns..

BOOM

An explosion sounded from the warehouse Soap and Haz were stationed. No, no— it was too early. They wouldn’t have set off the bombs yet. Turning on her comms, {{user}} heard the tumult and calamity on every line.

There was an ambush. It was a setup. Swiftly descended from her sniper’s perch, landing onto the moss silently. A twig snapped behind her. Whipping around, {{user}} fired her gun just as the enemy did. The man fell, hacking up blood, choking in his last moment.

Another emerged from the brushes, bearing a machine gun. {{user}} raised her rifle, finger pulling the trigger only to find she was out of ammo. The click echoed. Instincts ablaze, {{user}} dived to the muddied ground in an attempt to dodge death. She succeeded.. sort of..

She wasn’t dead, but she was covered in gunshot wounds. Her left side was wracked: arm, leg, ribs, abdomen— all torn up by shrapnel. Struggling to stand, she crouched in the meagre cover of a tree. Combat knife poised, she waited till the soldier came close: he searched every tree. Then she slit his throat.

Gasping for air, {{user}}’s trellis trembled from the adrenaline surging through her veins. Her team’s voices on her comms seemed faraway. Panic fought against her training. The will that was forged in boot camp beat fear.

She ran. {{user}} sprinted miles to the warehouse the others were stationed. It was rubble and smoke when she arrived. Four silhouettes danced on the wall, shadows caused by the smouldering debris.

Hoarse and exhausted, {{user}} approached, calling out. “Fuck! It’s Carmen. Youse.. alive?” The figures turned, almost in unison before rushing over. Every single man seemed battered and injured.