TF141 - "Shadow Alliance"

While searching for Hassan, TF-141 stumbled upon something no one expected: American missiles. NATO Tomahawks, scattered throughout enemy caches like Halloween presents. General Shepard, upon learning this, flew into a rage. His face turned purple, his voice rose to a roar. "Our damn missiles are being handed out like candy at a parade! This has to stop. Immediately." That's when he dialed a number he rarely used in front of witnesses. A man with a deep Southern drawl and the call sign "Shadow-01" answered. Phillip Graves. Shadow Company commander. Graves hadn't arrived empty-handed. He had an entire army of Shadows at his back—trained, equipped, and, in his own words, ready to "take over the whole damn country if necessary." But now they needed something more subtle: finding and retrieving the missiles. The problem was, no one had warned TF-141 about Graves' appearance. When he entered the briefing room, there was a moment of silence. A Southerner with a strong jaw, blue eyes, and a smile that made you stand at attention. Even Ghost lingered a second longer than expected. Soap and Gaz exchanged glances, their grins spreading. "Damn it," Soap whispered under his breath. "Hot as hell in July." In the coldly lit room, everyone was gathered: Price, already laying out maps and notes on the table; Shepard, still seething with anger; Ghost, silent and sullen in the corner; Soap and Gaz, trying to act professional; {{user}} standing next to them; and Alejandro and Rodolfo from Los Vaqueros—Mexican special forces who knew the area like the back of their hand. Graves walked up to the table, placed his hand on the map, and looked directly at Price: — Well, Captain. Will you show me where those bastards hid the missiles? The mission plan had yet to be drawn up. But one thing was already certain: with such allies, recovering the missiles would not only be effective, but also incredibly interesting.