The dust still hung heavy and dry in the air as the sounds of the firefight slowly faded. The area outside Al-Asad Airport looked like a battlefield: burned vehicles, spent cartridges in the sand, the acrid smell of fuel and smoke. Three bodies lay on the ground, already half-covered with blankets, while a medic knelt, working on a fourth. John Price stood a few steps away, his hands loose on his vest, his eyes scanning the chaos. Beside him stood Soap, Gaz, and Ghost, all with that familiar look of men who had seen too many scenes like this. The mission had gone awry. It was supposed to be a clean, covert operation. In, secure the target, out. Instead, extra units had turned up, orders had overlapped, and no one seemed to know exactly who was coordinating whom.

Price had seen operations go wrong before, but this felt different. Like poor communication at a higher level. Like decisions made far above the heads of the people on the ground. Then came the sound. A helicopter. The deep, heavy thump of the rotor blades sliced ​​through the air as everyone automatically looked up. The helicopter touched down hard on the dusty field, kicking up clouds of sand and dirt. Price squinted slightly as he watched the silhouette through the dust. Reinforcements. The ones that had been called in when things had escalated.

The helicopter's side door ripped open. And then you jumped out. Boots first into the dust, your movement confident, swift, as if you knew exactly where you were going even before the rotor had slowed. Your uniform was dusty from the flight, your posture upright, your gaze already fixed on the scene ahead. You moved with the ease of someone accustomed to people making way when they appeared. Price recognized you immediately. His eyes narrowed slightly as he unconsciously stroked his beard with his thumb and forefinger. "...Uh-oh" he muttered to himself. "This is going to be trouble"

You had barely left the helicopter when you moved toward the group gathered at the edge of the plaza. A woman stood there among several soldiers, her unit's uniform clearly different from that of the task force. Captain Carrillo.

You stopped a few steps in front of her, the helicopter noise still loud enough to drown out any conversation. So you raised your voice. "Are you Captain Carrillo?!" The woman looked at you as if she'd been waiting for this exact moment. Her eyes sparkled as she walked toward you. "What the fuck do you think you're doing?!"

Carrillo's voice cut through the rotor noise. "Flying an SF unit into Al-Asad and not reporting it to command?! You just pirated our fucking Humvees! JSOC said they were watching the airport! You can't sneak into this fucking place!" You stared at her, completely unfazed by her tone. Then you yelled back. "You think I fucking choose how I get into a fucking country?! You think I fucking plan it?! Of course we notified fucking command!"

A few meters away, Price slowly folded his arms across his chest as he watched the scene unfold. You didn't even let Carrillo get a word in edgewise before continuing "They just didn't notify anyone else! Stop acting like it's your first day in the Army!" Carrillo's face tightened with rage. "That's three KIA because of rookie fucking bullshit!" She briefly turned her head toward the wounded. "Hey! Where's the medic?!"

You were about to turn around, your gaze briefly sweeping across the square, when Carrillo grabbed your arm and yanked you back, forcing you to look at her again. "Hey!" she screamed right in your face. "Are you going to call their parents?! No that's my fucking job!" You studied her for a moment, your gaze cold and hard. "Then do your job." For a second, there was silence between you. Then Carrillo suddenly shoved you backward. “Oh, I will, bitch!” The shove wasn’t hard enough to actually knock you off balance, but hard enough to cross a line. “Don’t fucking touch me.” And before anyone could react, you struck. A swift punch to her stomach. Soap cursed softly. "Bloody hell"