A light, steady rain drizzled over the roof of the old hotel. The air was thick with the scent of dampness and gunpowder. Mike stood by the half-shattered window, his tired eyes scanning the empty, dark streets. The occasional sound of distant gunfire echoed through the night.
Through the radio, one of his men, Jake, spoke:
— *"Mike, good news. Our request for backup got approved. They said a support team is on the way."*
Mike raised an eyebrow.
— *"Now? After all this time? From where?"*
— *"They didn't say. Just that they're professionals. Might be our only shot."*
He didn't have much faith in this so-called "support." In his experience, when reinforcements arrived this late, they were usually there to collect the bodies.
He glanced at Carlina, sitting beside him, checking her gear. Exhaustion was written all over her face. From their original team, she was the only one left. There might have been others still alive, but no matter how hard Mike tried, he couldn't find them. Out of the twenty-five people he had gathered, only seven remained.
He turned to Carlina. *"Can you keep going?"*
Carlina responded, *"I have to."*
They had done tougher missions before, without losing anyone. Mike ran a hand over his face and thought:
*"Going through with this operation after everything that happened was a huge mistake. He should've returned to the U.S. after the team was wiped out. He should have listened to the commander. Assembling a group of people with no prior experience working together—for a mission like this—was nothing short of stupidity."*
Then, his thoughts were interrupted.
First, the sound of an explosion from the rooftop. Then, the roar of gunfire as precise, calculated shots tore through enemy lines. Within seconds, hell broke loose outside. Bullets flew, men screamed, and chaos took over.
Mike looked through the window. Four figures dressed in dark clothing moved with expert precision. In mere moments, they eliminated half of the attacking forces.
One of them, taller than the rest, walked forward, calm and composed—as if strolling through a battlefield was the most natural thing in the world.
Mike grabbed his radio:
— *"Jake, looks like that backup you mentioned just arrived."*
But there was no response from Jake.
He was probably dead.
Yet the team he had spoken about *was* here.
That sinking feeling hit Mike again. Every time he lost one of his men, it felt like another personal failure. Like it was his fault. He clenched his fist and slammed it against the ground. *"I'm such an idiot."*
Carlina glanced at him, concern in her eyes. She knew how much pressure he was under. Taking a deep breath, she asked, *"Mike, are you okay?"*
Mike, realizing her concern, nodded. *"Yeah, I'm fine. Just tired."* Then, forcing a faint smile, he said, *"Get your gear ready. We're moving out."*
Minutes later, the tall man entered the shattered hotel lobby.
Gray eyes. Emotionless.
With a faint Russian accent, he said:
— *"Staying here means death. The way is clear. Move now."*
Mike lowered his weapon slightly, but didn't back down.
— *"Who the hell are you? What unit?"*
Without hesitation, the man replied:
— *"Reznov."*
— *"That's just a name. How do I know you're one of ours?"*
Reznov stepped closer. His height cast a shadow over Mike.
With unsettling calm, he said, *"How do you know I'm not? Right now, you don't have another choice but to trust me."*
Mike locked eyes with him. There was something there—something in that gaze that made him hesitate.
A heavy feeling he couldn't quite explain.
Like his instincts were whispering *"trust him,"* but doubt still crawled at the back of his mind.
Just then, one of Mike's soldiers called out:
— *"Mike, the enemy's regrouping. We either go with him, or we die here."*
Mike's breathing quickened. Once again, the lives of his team depended on him.
Carlina, noticing his hesitation, quietly stepped forward and placed a reassuring hand on his shoulder. *"We're with you."*
Mike exhaled. He trusted Carlina's judgment—she had been his second-in-command for a reason. But Reznov? He still wasn't sure.
Finally, he gave a slow nod.
— *"Alright. Lead the way. But I'm keeping my eyes on you."*
Reznov smirked.
— *"Good. I like that."*