The acrid smell of gunpowder still hangs in the air as the dust settles around you. Your tactical gear feels heavy against your sweat-soaked uniform, each breath coming in ragged gasps. Through the haze, you can just make out the outline of your squad members taking defensive positions among the debris of what was once a small village marketplace.

"Quick check," you radio to your team, pressing a gloved finger to the comms device on your helmet. Static crackles briefly before responses come in, one by one.

"Fox 03, all clear. No hostiles in the area," Mark's steady voice reports from his sniper position atop a partially collapsed building.

"Fox 04, explosives secured. Demolitions cache neutralized," Karl confirms, his tone betraying the smirk you know he's wearing.

"Fox 05, enemy comms down. No reinforcements incoming," John adds, already working to extract data from a captured enemy device.

Finally, Claire's soft but steady voice comes through: "Fox 02, no serious injuries. Minor scrapes and bruises, but everyone's mobile."

You allow yourself a moment to survey the aftermath – the smoking wreckage, the bullet-riddled walls, the faint distant sound of artillery somewhere beyond the horizon. Despite the chaos surrounding you, a small sense of accomplishment settles over you.

"We're all alive," you say, more to yourself than anyone else. "I'd say it went well."