The battlefield was a desolate wasteland of scattered debris, twisted metal, and the charred remnants of the recent confrontation. As the dust settled, solemn figures regrouped in the background—Master Chief, Avery J. Johnson, Jett, Phoenix, and Brimstone. Their expressions were a mixture of concern and determination, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily on their shoulders. The challenges ahead were daunting, yet none of them would back down.

Reinforcements soon arrived. From the same breach Alex Mercer had used, James Heller made a dramatic entrance, landing with a resounding thud that echoed across the quieting battleground. His presence brought a surge of hope, momentarily lifting the spirits of the beleaguered defenders.

Nearby, Omen appeared, struggling yet steadfast, with Reyna leaning heavily on him. Her injuries were severe, but her eyes burned with determination. Together, they moved slowly through the debris, each step marked by pain but underscored by resilience.

Brimstone strode over to the area where the Radianite had been last seen, frustration etched into his features. He scanned the now-empty space, his fists clenched in anger.

"The Radianite is gone!" Brimstone exclaimed, his voice tight with frustration. "We have no info on where it could be now."

The VALORANT Agents exchanged shocked looks, unsure of their next move. Before they could process the news, Mason and Agent Jonesy rushed onto the scene, their faces set with urgency and confusion.

"What happened here?" Agent Jonesy demanded. "Were we too late to stop them?"

The sound of Jonesy's voice sent a jolt through Frank Woods, who had been kneeling amidst the wreckage, his mind swirling with defeat and exhaustion. But now, at the mention of the events, a fire reignited within him. He stood abruptly, his eyes burning with intensity as he locked onto Jonesy.

"Why the fuck did I see Menendez here, Jonesy?" Woods growled, marching toward him with a fury that made the others tense. "I just saw a ghost!"

Jonesy, startled by Woods' sudden approach, stammered, trying to form an explanation.

"Woods, listen—" Jonesy began, but before he could continue, Woods' anger exploded. In a swift motion, Woods grabbed Jonesy by the collar, his hands shaking with rage.

"Why was he here, Jonesy?" Woods shouted, his voice raw with emotion. "You better start talking, damn it!"

The scene tensed as Mason, Phoenix, and Avery J. Johnson quickly intervened. Mason reached for Woods, his voice calm but firm.

"Woods, calm down," Mason urged. "Let him explain."

Phoenix joined in, his tone soft but wary. "Easy, mate..."

Woods, however, was too far gone in his fury. He shoved Mason aside, his focus solely on Jonesy. His rage was unyielding, and the air crackled with the threat of violence.

"Get the fuck off me!" Woods barked, pushing back anyone who tried to intervene.

Avery J. Johnson stepped forward, his voice commanding as he tried to restore order. "Enough, Woods! We need to hold it together."

But Woods was unrelenting. His eyes were wild with emotion, his mind consumed by the memory of Menendez. With a sharp motion, Woods drew his Colt 1911 and leveled it directly at Jonesy. Gasps echoed through the room as the team reacted with alarm, their voices blending into a cacophony of desperate pleas.

"Dammit, Woods! Stand down!" Avery J. Johnson bellowed. "That's an order!"

Mason was beside himself with shock. "Woods! What the hell are you doing?! Put the gun down!"

The tension in the air was palpable. Master Chief, ever vigilant, stood slightly apart, his posture alert and ready to intervene if necessary. He assessed the situation with a tactical eye, waiting for the right moment to act. Meanwhile, Avery J. Johnson, Phoenix, Jett, and Brimstone reluctantly raised their weapons, deeply unwilling to confront Woods but prepared to do so if it meant preventing bloodshed.

Brimstone, still unfamiliar with the deeper histories at play, stepped forward cautiously. His voice was measured, trying to cut through the tension with reason.

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"We don't know the full story, soldier," Brimstone said, his tone commanding but not threatening. "Lower your weapon. Let's sort this out the right way."

Woods' arm trembled as he gripped the pistol tighter, his voice straining under the weight of his emotions.

"You better start talking right now, Jonesy," Woods warned, his voice laced with desperation. "Why the hell was Menendez here? I swear , I'll shoot you if you don't give me a damn good reason."

Jonesy met Woods' gaze, recognizing the gravity of the situation. His voice was calm but carried an undeniable urgency.

"I didn't know Menendez would be here, Woods," Jonesy said, his words careful but sincere. "I swear it."

Woods shook his head, his expression hardening. "Bullshit!" he spat. "I killed him, Jonesy! In my world, he's dead. How the hell is he alive and here?!"

Realizing that half-truths wouldn't calm Woods, Jonesy sighed heavily, deciding to reveal what he had been keeping to himself.

"Okay, okay!" Jonesy admitted, his tone full of regret. "I knew he might be involved. But I didn't tell you because... because of your history with Menendez. I thought you might lose focus on the mission—go after revenge instead of the bigger picture."

Mason shot Jonesy a look of confusion and anger. He had hoped for transparency, not secrecy. Woods, though still filled with rage, began to process the implications of Jonesy's admission. His grip on the gun loosened ever so slightly as he processed what Jonesy had said, the weight of betrayal sinking in deeper.

Frank Woods' voice sliced through the tension in the room, sharp and raw.

"So you played us? You used that piece of shit to what, test me?!" His pistol was trained on Agent Jonesy, hand steady despite the storm of emotions beneath his exterior.

Jonesy took a breath, his voice calm but laced with urgency as he tried to clarify.

"It's not like that. Listen, the Menendez you saw isn't the one from your past. He's from another universe—a universe where he survives. I'm telling you the truth, Woods. You have to believe me."

Beside them, Alex Mason stepped forward, placing a firm hand on Woods' shoulder. His voice carried a mix of concern and command.

"Woods, stand down, man. Let's focus on what Jonesy is saying. It's bigger than any of us."

Woods, his finger still on the trigger, kept the gun aimed at Jonesy. His face twitched with the internal battle raging inside him—vengeance against reason, instinct against logic.

"If you're lying, Jonesy, if you're playing games with us..."

Jonesy met his gaze, solemn and sincere. He understood the gravity of the situation, the trust he needed to rebuild.

"I'm not playing games, Woods. This is about more than just our personal vendettas. We're in this fight together, and we need to trust each other if we're going to survive."

The room was thick with the weight of past grievances and the looming threats of their uncertain future. Every breath, every movement, seemed heavy with unspoken fears. In the midst of it all, Phoenix, his voice barely audible, whispered to Jett, uncertainty evident.

"Should we do something?"

Jett, ever the pragmatic one, responded sharply, eyes fixed on the escalating situation.

"Shh! Shut up."

Jonesy seized on the brief lull in the tension, his voice even more earnest.

"I'm telling you the truth, Woods. You've got to believe me."

A figure of stoic resolve, Master Chief spoke softly, yet with an authority that instantly resonated.

"Woods."

That single word carried enough weight to catch everyone's attention.

Woods hesitated, his internal conflict evident as his grip on the pistol began to falter. His shoulders slumped slightly under the intensity of the moment, torn between his emotions and the gravity of their mission.

"Damn it!" Woods finally shouted, his frustration boiling over. He turned away from Jonesy, his anger spilling out as a quiet fury, fists clenched by his sides.

Mason stepped closer, his voice calm and reassuring, seeing the opportunity to defuse the situation.

"Easy, brother. Let's just breathe for a sec, alright?"

Woods' hand relaxed slightly on his weapon, the heat of his anger slowly cooling, replaced by a tired confusion. His voice was low, almost a whisper.

"I saw him, Mason. I saw him with my own eyes..."

Mason nodded, staying close, his presence a calming force.

"I know, Woods. But we've got to stay sharp. We're not dealing with the past anymore."

Jonesy, relieved that the tension was beginning to dissipate, remained cautious but hopeful. He knew the trust within the team had been tested—fractured but not beyond repair.

Gradually, the other members of the team lowered their weapons, the immediate threat fading. But the air remained thick with unresolved questions, each of them wrestling with their own doubts and concerns.

As the tension ebbed, a heavy silence settled over the group. They processed the aftermath of the confrontation, the weariness of the day's harrowing events weighing on their shoulders.

Amidst the somber quiet, James Heller stood apart from the others. His posture was rigid, eyes fixed on the now empty space where the radianite had once been secured. His gaze burned with a deep determination, a simmering anger just beneath the surface. The stolen radianite was more than a tactical loss to him—it was a personal affront, a challenge to his sense.

Around the room, the team members wore weary, contemplative expressions. The vulnerability of the moment, the shared exhaustion, and the uncertainty of the path ahead hung over them like a heavy fog.

But Heller stood resolute, his figure almost statuesque in the dim light. His presence served as a reminder that, despite the fractures in their unity, they would not back down from what lay ahead. The determination in his eyes signaled that their journey was far from over. The challenges they would face would be steep, but Heller's resolve, along with the rest of the team, would drive them forward into the unknown.

This powerful moment left the room heavy with a palpable sense of anticipation and unease, setting the stage for the battles and complexities that awaited them.