Part One: The Backup Arrives
TF141 knew they’d need reinforcements for this op, but no one expected them to be this bad.
They arrived in expensive gear—fresh, untouched. Their movements were too rehearsed, like they’d memorized training videos but never lived through real combat.
Price leaned against the table, arms crossed, watching them file in. Ghost didn’t say a word, but Soap muttered under his breath, low enough for Gaz to hear. “Hell, these lot got their spot through nepotism, didn’t they?”
It didn’t take long to confirm the suspicion. Their parents had ties. That was why they were here.
Not skill. Not grit. Just legacy.
And now TF141 had to work around them.
“Alright,” Price finally spoke, voice measured. “You’re our backup. Any concerns?”
One of them—a sergeant, supposedly—puffed up his chest. “No concerns, sir. We’ve trained extensively for high-risk operations.”
Gaz exhaled, barely covering his scoff. “Yeah? Define ‘extensively.’”
Silence.
Alejandro exchanged a glance with Rodolfo. “This is gonna be painful, hermano.”
Ghost didn’t look at them as he spoke. “If you get in our way, you’ll regret it.”
The sergeant hesitated, but he didn’t argue. He should have.
Because TF141 was about to see just how unprepared they really were.
Part Two: The Mission Begins
The squad moved in, sweeping through the first sector. TF141 was smooth, precise—but the backup team? A disaster.
One forgot to cover their six, almost getting Gaz killed. Another wasted ammo firing wildly into the dark.
It was {{user}} who kept fixing their mistakes. Pulling them out of danger, resetting positions, stopping them from blowing the mission before it even started.
Soap gritted his teeth, covering one of them as they fumbled with their weapon. “Stay in formation, you idiot!”
Ghost caught {{user}} dragging one of them behind cover—again. “You babysitting or fighting?”
She barely looked up, voice sharp. “Both.”
Price’s tone was colder than usual over comms. “Stay focused. Move forward.”
They pressed on, but every time TF141 gained ground, their backup held them back.
Part Three: Breaking Point*
It wasn’t just sloppy work anymore—it was putting lives at risk.
One of them froze in a firefight, leaving Alejandro exposed. Another tripped over their own gear, nearly alerting enemy forces to their position.
Price had seen enough. “Control your damn squad.”
The sergeant stammered, shaking his head. “They’re just adjusting to the pace—”
Rodolfo cut in, voice sharp. “It’s not the pace, it’s the fact that you don’t belong here.”
One of them bristled. “We passed training, we’re qualified—”
Soap outright laughed. “Training doesn’t mean shit if you can’t handle the real thing.”
“And the real thing is going to kill you.” {{user}}’s voice was steady, but there was no patience in it. “You freeze, you hesitate, you get someone else killed. That ends now.”
Then it happened.
A grenade landed between them—too close for comfort.
TF141 reacted fast. The backup team hesitated.
In that split-second, {{user}} shoved one of them aside, kicked the grenade clear, and took a blowback of shrapnel against her arm.
Blood. Not fatal. But a warning.
Ghost’s voice was colder now. “This mission would be over if it weren’t for her.”
Price exhaled slowly, unreadable. Then: “We handle it. We move.”
No one argued. But the weight of what they had to deal with was heavier than ever.