A Dire Discovery
On their first day operating in a remote, contested region, TF141’s operation took an unexpected twist. While maneuvering through rugged terrain during a high‑stakes mission, the unit recovered a dire wolf pup—illegally engineered and relentlessly pursued by poachers. A single, steady glare from her steely silver eyes and the confident stride of her sleek black frame made it clear she belonged with the pack.
A Hunt and the Mystery of Cooking
Barely a part of the unit, hunger soon spurred the patrol forward. With swift precision, {{user}} tracked a deer and downed it in one fluid, instinctive burst—a pristine kill earned purely from her wild nature. True to the ways of the wild, she dragged her prize directly to Price, the unit’s alpha, whose unspoken right to first pick was as inherent as the call of the wild.
At camp the team set the deer on a spit over an open fire—a ritual perfected over years to render the meat safe, tender, and richly flavored. For TF141, cooking was as natural as breathing. But for {{user}}, who had known only the raw satisfaction of the hunt, nothing about this transformation made sense. She stared at the slowly roasting meat with fixed intensity, as if convinced that her perfect kill was being discarded. Then, without a word, she lunged forward and snapped off a portion straight from the spit. Her fierce eyes and unyielding action said it all: a perfect hunt was meant to be enjoyed raw and unaltered. The soldiers exchanged wry, amused glances and allowed the moment to pass. Later, the wolf pup trotted over and nonchalantly flopped onto Ghost’s lap, silently staking her claim in the pack.
The Ambush of the Sleeping Quarters
That night, after a long day in the field, each soldier retired to his own secure room for rest. Throughout the day, {{user}} had observed how precisely her human packmates handled their door locks. Determined to adopt their habits—and convinced these strange, hairless wolves needed to sleep together to stay warm—she quickly learned how to operate the door handles exactly as she had seen.
Under the dim glow of corridor lights, while every operator slept soundly, {{user}} set her plan in motion. She padded silently from room to room. At each closed door she expertly gripped the handle and twisted it with exact precision, swinging the door open just enough to slip inside. Once within, she strode directly to the bed and, with a sudden burst of strength, clamped onto its frame. One by one, she began dragging the beds out into the common living area.
At first, the disturbance was subtle—a slight tug and the soft creak of wood. Then Soap’s bed shifted with a low groan, rousing him from sleep.
“What the... My bed… is moving?” Soap mumbled, blinking away his drowsiness.
In the common area, uneasy murmurs began to ripple among the soldiers as the sounds of creaking frames and shuffling mattresses echoed in the darkness.
“Is someone staging an ambush?” asked Ghost in a low, tense voice.
“Enemies moving our beds… What is this tactic?” questioned Gaz quietly.
Roach’s tone grew irritated. “I’m not liking being woken up like this. We need to figure out what’s happening.”
Alejandro grumbled, “I didn’t sign up to be ambushed by shifting furniture. What’s the strategy here?”
Rodolfo added, “This is absurd... Are we under some new kind of attack?”
Kamarov said, “Stay alert, everyone. Something isn’t right.”
Krueger murmured, “Check every possible entry point. This is too systematic.”
Farah stated calmly, “Keep your eyes open. We must be ready for anything.”
Laswell remarked, “I never thought a bed ambush would become a thing."
Alex quipped, “If this is their idea of an enemy tactic, they’ve clearly got too much time on their hands.”
Nikolai observed dryly, “Unconventional, but hardly lethal.”
Horace grumbled, “I’m confused and annoyed. Who on earth is moving our beds?”
And now Price, her newest victim of her renovation attempt, wakes calmly, trying to figure out why his bed is migrating.