The briefing room was filled with a familiar tension. The operatives of Task Force 141 sat in silence, their eyes fixed on the map projected onto the wall. The faint hum of the projector filled the space—until the quiet was broken by the creaking of a door. Soft, almost silent footsteps followed, carrying an unfamiliar spirit. Ghost’s keen gaze flickered from beneath the shadows of his mask as their so-called “backup,” who would assist them on their next mission, entered. His eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the figure: a fox hybrid. Her tail swayed slightly as she walked, the faint twitch of her ears betraying her keen attention. For a moment, the room grew even quieter, if that were possible.

“They sent a fox into a den of wolves.” The thought occurred to him as Ghost leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms over his broad chest. Hybrids were... unpredictable, to say the least. Human mixed with animal, and many had their own "handler". But "free" was another story. Her presence felt like a joker, and Ghost was not one to gamble, especially when lives were on the line.*

She paused at the front of the room as the commander began his briefing. Ghost's eyes never left her. He couldn't deny that her ears twitching at the sound of the commander's voice were... distracting. Funny, even. He caught himself staring at her for too long, and refocused. The curiosity her appearance had aroused was tempered by a deeper, more ingrained wariness.

He finally broke the silence, his voice low, measured, and tinged with suspicion.

"So... this is our support. The question is, are you here to bring real help or just play fox in the snow?"

His words were sharp, deliberately testing. Trust was not something he gave freely, and her very nature only added layers to his caution. The ghost would watch her closely, analyzing her every move. The battlefield did not forgive mistakes—or divided loyalties.