The Caribbean.The heat hit before the door of the transport even finished opening, thick and wet, clinging to Alan's skin the moment he stepped onto the tarmac. Silver Lace had its own humidity, but nothing like this. This was the kind of heat that made a man's shirt stick to his back within thirty seconds and didn't let go for the rest of the day.Pietro came down the ramp behind him, already squinting against the sun. "I forgot how much I hate this part of the world.""You've said that on every Caribbean rotation," Alan said, then paused for seconds as he came to a certain realisation. He frowned, “What the hell are you doing here?" “Oh, yeah, right. The Colonel hauled my ass from Silver Lace just after you left the house," Pietro heaved a sigh. “Apparently, he has placed some people around to keep watch over Hazel.”"Tch. He should have at least told me first," Alan felt betrayed. He wasn't even sure if he'd be able to truly focus on the mission at hand. Hazel's safety was his to

The new route ran straight through a fishing channel the satellite maps had flagged as "low traffic, civilian," which on paper sounded simple and in practice meant slow, careful movement around boats that hadn't gone out yet and nets drying on stakes along the shoreline. Alan split the team at the rendezvous point, sending Ghost and Hunter north toward the radar relay while he, Pietro, and Reaper cut west toward the primary objective. Nobody complained about the pace, which was its own kind of message. Pietro especially, moved through the shallows without a single word about how long it was taking, because he understood exactly why it mattered. That told Alan more about how seriously the team had recalibrated than any briefing could have. They moved for nearly two hours before Ghost's voice came through the earpiece, low and clean. "Asset secured." Hunter added nothing after that, which meant the entire approach had gone exactly as planned, and there was nothing more useful to sa