Getting back into the training regimen provided Reynolds a sense of stability she absolutely loved. After her last mission mishap, she was determined to get better and stronger. The objective was not to get beaten up, as that would happen regardless, but to get tougher to recover faster. Meat was training alongside her to strengthen his leg accompanying the usual physio.
Two weeks passed from her incident, and they were needed to get back in the game. The shell left after the massacre in the Russian airport was traced back to an arms dealer in Rio de Janeiro, Brazil. The 141 along a reluctant Reynolds were called for a briefing. Squeezed together in the ops centre, Shepherd was relaying information through the comms, with Billy controlling everything technical.
There was a photo of a young man on the screen labelled as Private First Class Joseph Allen, and an unfortunate K.I.A. underneath it. Apparently, he was infiltrated seep within Makarov's inner circle in an undercover Op for the CIA.
"The Russians ain't going to let this massacre go unanswered," said Ghost. "It's going to get bloody."
"Too right, mate," MacTavish replied sounding worried. "Now, in the eyes of the world, they're the victims. No one'sgoing to say a word when the Russians club every American they can reach."
"Makarov was one moveahead," interjected Shepherd. "Nowhe's left thousands of bodies at the feet of an American."
"We're the only ones who knew that it was Makarov's op," continued MacTavish. "Our credibility died with Allen. We need proof."
"Follow the shell. We have one less arms dealer to deal with thanks to Sergeant Reynolds."
The photo of Hadi Al-Jabbar flashed in front of them with a 'K.I.A.' underneath his name. MacTavish and Ghost briefly looked at each other. That's where she was and who nearly bludgeoned her to death. She looked down as everyone tried to meet her gaze.
"Cobalt did their part. Now, let's do ours."
A map of Brazil shown in front of them, zooming on Rio de Janeiro. Another gruff man was being shown wearing a cap and a shemagh scarf.
"Alejandro Rojas."
"Never heard of him, sir," remarked MacTavish.
"You know him as Alex the Red. He supplied the assault. He's our ticket to Makarov."
"Then we'll get on it," said Ghost.
The heat hit them instantly as they arrived in the city of Rio. The humidity forced them to sweat like pigs in spite of wearing as light kit as damn possible. Sporting a tan cap, vest, light shirt, jeans, and combat boots, Reynolds was still releasing buckets of sweat.
Holding her M4A1 between her legs, she waited on MacTavish's orders as he was seated next to her in the van. New faces joined them on this mission making her realise that the 141 expanded way more than she thought. These new additions, to her at least, carried an international array of flags coming from endless countries. From the UK, USA, and even Australia, the 141 employs a multitude of skills and backgrounds.
"Ghost, the plates are a match," relayed MacTavish in his comms.
"Copy. Any sign of Rojas's right hand man?"
"Negative. They stopped twice already, no sign of him."
They came to a halt as two men came out of the van they were tailing. Gripping her rifle firmly, she remained focus.
"Wait, they've stopped again. Standby," said MacTavish. "Got a positive ID. Whoever these guys are, they are not happy to see him."
Rojas' assistant took out a Desert Eagle and shot the two men in front of him. He then turned his firearm in their direction.
"Ghost, we have a situation here!" roared MacTavish. "Get down! Get down!"
A horn blared incessantly as their driver slumped over the steering wheel.
"Our driver's dead. We're on foot. Let's cut him off if we can."
Roach and Reynolds sprinted after Rojas' assistant with Meat and Royce on their heel.
"He went into the alley!" yelled Ghost, joining them.
"Non-lethal takedowns only! We need him alive!"
Roach aimed swiftly at his leg. Rojas' assistant dropped like a bag of potatoes. MacTavish and Ghost grabbed him from under his arms and dragged him in a nearby garage. They strapped him on a chair and MacTavish ordered them to proceed to the favelas. Reynolds was distracted by Ghost, sparking two jumper cables together and sneered.
Asshole sure loves his jumper cables... she thought.
"Roach, this is going to take some time," said MacTavish, leaning over the shutter. "Go with Meat, Royce, and Reynolds and check the favela for any signs of Rojas. That's where this guy was headed."
"Roger that, sir."
"Let's go," said Royce. "Remember, there are civilians in the favela. Watch your fire out there."
They rushed towards the favelas and Reynolds glanced upwards. Thousands of houses, their roofs clad in corrugated iron, littered the steep hillside. She felt a tinge of despair observing the makeshift houses that spoke of poverty.
"Meat, get these civvies out of here."
"Roger. Este lugar não é seguro!"
She looked at Meat with surprise. The man of many hidden talents, apparently. He was still limping lightly, and Reynolds knew that he was not fully recovered. Due to his stubbornness and Shepherd's callousness regarding his men's health, Meat was tumbling through the favelas alongside them.
Chaos fell over them like a suffocating blanket when the Brazilian militia flooded the streets. Screams and cries from the civilians did not waver their concentration. They had to remain focused to make sure they would not mistakenly hit them, especially the children who would run in the middle of the street without thinking twice. To say that Reynolds was impressed by Roach, Royce, and Meat was an understatement. They took down the militia with surgical precision and no stray bullets in sight.
They kept moving up the hill, beads of sweat rolling down their faces, Meat wincing slightly because of his leg.
"You're falling behind Meat," said Roach. "You're getting old."
"Fuck off Roach. I can still beat your ass."
"In your dreams mate."
"Cut the chatter," interjected Royce.
Reynolds cursed under her breath. The militia were tripling in numbers before their eyes. These assholes were armed better than some first-world armies.
"Push up or we're gonna get swarmed," yelled Roach.
They did not need to be told twice. Things took a dark turn instantly. They were being overwhelmed form all positions. Reynolds found herself separated from the rest of the team. They were trying their utmost to not get hit so anything that offered them protection, they would hide behind it. She was making her way through the streets when a militia appeared suddenly in front of her. He grabbed his Ak-47 and sprayed bullets in her direction. She dropped to the ground just in time but heard a loud groan just behind her.
"Meat is hit! I repeat. Meat is hit!" said Royce.
She neutralised the militia and spun around. Meat was sprawled on the ground, twitching and his breathing was agonal. Her heart was beating hard against her ribs, an uncomfortable feeling rising in her stomach.
She sprinted and slid near him, grabbed him by the vest and dragged him behind a corner with all the strength she could muster.
As she went to treat his wounds, she realised that she did not know where to start. His body was filled with bullet holes and blood was gushing uncontrollably. His eyes were staring wide searching for some comfort. Reynolds cupped his face firmly, grabbing his hand and held it tight close to her chest.
"Meat," she whispered in his ears, "it's going to be alright; do you understand me?"
"I guess you won't be calling me sir after all," he laughed bitterly.
"Stay with me, David," she implored.
Her fingers stroked his cheek as his eyes filled with tears. He drew one last, ragged breath before his hand went limp in hers.
One lone tear travelling down his face. The only movement coming from his body.
Her body convulsed as she cried her heart out over Meat's limp body. Her grief was quickly interrupted with Roach screaming in her ears.
"Royce is down!"
What the fuck was going on?! In a matter of minutes, two members of their team were down.
"I'm going for Royce!" she boomed, aggressively wiping away the wetness from her face.
"No!" roared MacTavish in their comms. "Reynolds, push on. If you go back, you'll be killed!"
"Leave them Reynolds," said Roach, joining her. "We need to press on."
For the first time, she obeyed MacTavish's orders.
Blinking the tears away, Reynolds and Roach pushed on, continuing up the hill.
"Roach, we've got Rojas's location! He's heading west along the upper levels of the favela. We'll keep him from doubling back on our side. Keep going and cut him off up top! There's no time for backup. You're going to have to do this on your own. Good luck. Out."
"What is the probability that we make it out alive?" asked Roach sombre.
Half their team was deceased in a matter of minutes. Reynolds disliked the probability of their survival and decided it was best to ignore Roach's question.
"I see him!" bellowed Ghost. "He's climbing onto a roof carrying a black duffel bag!"
"Well, that ought to slow him down!" replied MacTavish. "Roach, we're keeping him from doubling back! Keep moving to intercept! Go! Go!"
They continued pushing through encountering heavy resistance all the way. Civilians screaming and running in their way did not make the task easier.
"Roach, he is coming to your position. Push him towards us!"
They could see Rojas with the duffle bag slinged over his shoulder, leaving a trail of money behind.
"He's gonna get away!" panicked Ghost.
"No, he's not."
From the first floor, MacTavish burst through the window and into Rojas dropping into a car below. Shatter glass showered them as he pulled a pistol on Rojas.
"Frontrunner, this is Bravo Six. We've got the package. I repeat, we have got the package," huffed MacTavish.
"Command, ready for dust-off. Send the helicopter. Coordinates to fol-Bollocks! The skies are clear. Send the chopper now!" Ghost cursed. "Command's got their head up their arse. We're on our own."
The scorching sun, the heat, the panic and screams, brought back bitter memories for Reynolds from her days back in Afghanistan. Half the team eliminated, multiple W.I.A.s, and abandoned by their Command. What a shitty déjà vu.
MacTavish was struck with an idea to get them out of there. He got into a payphone and dialled someone. Whoever it was, Reynolds prayed that they were gonna hurry up because she was already feeling like fainting. Roach was wiping the sweat off his face while Ghost was guzzling down a gallon of water.
"MacTavish, the militia's closing in," said Ghost, sounding slightly panicked. "Almost two-hundred of them, front and back."
"We need to cut through the market to make to the LZ. Lock and load!" ordered MacTavish.
Everyone put in a fresh mag and cocked their weapon. The tactical gloves and kit started feeling weird and heavy on Reynolds, but she ignored it. Their next step was to get to the LZ to get the hell out of there. That's where she needed to put the focus on.
"Head through that gate! Keep pushing to the evac point!" roared MacTavish.
"Reynolds, stay with me! Don't fall behind!" shouted Roach.
"I'm right behind you Roach!"
They moved through the market, stalls dismantling right in front of their eyes as the bullets sent pieces of wooden splinters in the air. She kept on putting bullets in the enemy but these motherfuckers did not want to die. The more you neutralised, the more reappeared in front of you. How annoying.
"There's Nikolai's Pave Low! Let's go! Nikolai! ETA 20 seconds! Be ready for immediate dust-off!"
"That may not be fast enough! I see more militia closing in on the market!" replied Nikolai.
"Pick up the pace! Let's go!"
RPGs littered the sky like fireworks. The Pave Low that was supposed to pick them up was swarmed with the militia focusing their fire on it instead.
"It's too hot! We will not survive this landing!"
"Nikolai wave off, wave off! We'll meet you at the secondary LZ instead! Go!"
They huffed; more unfortunate news.
"Let's get to the rooftops," ordered MacTavish.
They sprinted with all their might over the rooftops the corrugated iron felt like it could give away any time. Roach and Reynolds fell behind the team but still pushed on. All of them grunted as they jumped an opening between one roof and another. However, Roach's jump fell short and grabbed the ledge, holding on for dear life. MacTavish slid to the edge trying to give Roach a helping hand, but the latter fell to the streets.
"Roach! Get up!"
To make matters worse, Reynolds had no ledge to jump to, so she had to find another way to reach them. MacTavish looked at her and gasped with shock as a bullet pierced her chest. He saw her being pushed backwards with such force that it threw her off the roof and fell like a ragdoll into the streets below.
"Shite! Reynolds is hit! Reynolds is hit!"