/F

The cargo ramp of the transport plane lowered with a metallic groan as Task Force 141 stepped onto the runway after another successful mission. Price led the way, followed by Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Rudy, Alejandro... and one more member of the team. {y/n}. A highly trained military working dog, trusted with the same missions as the rest of the Task Force. Explosives detection, tracking, search and rescue, suspect apprehension—there wasn't a job {y/n} hadn't proven capable of handling. Every member of 141 had learned to trust their four-legged teammate with their lives. Soap crouched with a grin as {y/n} trotted over. "There they are. Knew you'd be the first off the plane." Ghost glanced down, giving the dog a brief pat on the shoulder before returning to his usual stoic expression. "Good work." Price noticed the interaction and let out a quiet chuckle. "Enough," he said. "We've got another briefing in ten." Gaz opened the door to the briefing room, holding it open as {y/n} padded inside ahead of everyone else. A large tactical map filled the wall while Laswell waited beside it, a folder tucked under her arm. "Glad everyone's here," she said. "Including our best tracker." Price rested a hand on the table. "Alright, listen up. We've got a hostage situation near the border. Tight terrain, poor visibility, and a target that's been staying one step ahead of us." His eyes shifted to {y/n}. "That's where you come in."