The transport plane rattled like it held a personal grudge against the sky. Five soldiers were packed shoulder to shoulder, their gear knocking together every time the aircraft dipped or shivered. Their vests pressed heavy against their chests, their helmets felt a little too tight, and their rifles lay across their laps like bored pets waiting for excitement. Under the dim red cabin lights, the sniper barrels caught a faint gleam, sharp and patient, as if they knew trouble was coming.
A salty smell drifted in through the vents. It was a quiet warning of the ocean waiting below, the place they would be dropped in just a few minutes.
"Don't tell me you're nervous," one soldier muttered through the comms. He tilted his head just enough to smirk at the man across from him. "I can hear your heartbeat from here."
The fourth soldier blinked, caught off guard. He tried to shrug it off, but before he could defend himself, another voice cut in. This one carried the kind of teasing that only came from long hours spent together.
"Nervous? When Captain Kael is right here? Even if he wanted to act like a scared chicken, not with the captain at his side. The cavalry himself. No chance."
Their laughter rolled through the cabin. But they were far from done.
A third soldier tapped the side of his rifle with a knuckle and gave a slow shake of his head, as if he had figured out the real answer.
"No, no. He is not nervous about the mission. He is nervous because his babysitter is not here to hold his hand." His grin stretched under the straps of his helmet.
The cabin burst into fresh laughter. The fourth soldier muttered something sharp under his breath, but the redness creeping up his neck betrayed him.
Kael finally spoke, calm but edged with dry humor. "Come on, guys. He is the youngest. Let's not bully our baby soldier too hard." He leaned back slightly. "Besides, if he starts crying now, his tears might fry the comms."
That earned the loudest laugh yet. Helmets bumped together as shoulders shook. Even Kael cracked a small smile.
The youngest soldier muttered again, heat still rising in his face. "Baby soldier huh only because you are a year older."
"What was that?" Kael asked, his voice cutting clean through the noise. He did not move, but his eyes locked onto him with clear intent.
The soldier stiffened. "Nothing, sir. Slip of the tongue."
"I thought so." Kael gave his thigh a firm pat. The metal on his glove rang against his armor, which sent the squad into another wave of laughter.
Before the noise could climb any higher, the cabin speaker cracked to life. A stern voice filled the compartment, clipped and cold with battlefield authority.
"Approaching the drop zone. Coordinates locked. You will be descending two klicks off the coast. Once you hit water, swim west to the marked entry point. Navigation is tight. Follow your HUD beacon. Five minutes to green light. Prepare for drop."
The humor drained out at once. The red cabin glow suddenly felt sharper, the shadows firmer. Weapons were checked. Helmets tightened. The air shifted from playful to focused as the squad settled into the mindset of men who had done this too many times to count.
Kael rose and inspected his harness before glancing down the line of soldiers.
"Check in. Ghost."
"Here," the sniper answered with a cool voice. He tapped the long barrel leaning against his leg.
"Brick."
The largest of them hit his chest plate with a heavy fist. "Still breathing, Captain."
"Jester."
"Never miss a party," Jester replied, spinning his rifle once like a toy before gripping it tight again.
Kael turned his eyes to the last man. There was a familiar smirk in his tone. "And finally... Baby Face."
The youngest groaned. "Please, sir..."
The squad cracked up again, shaking their heads. Kael gave a small nod. "Good. All accounted for."
A buzzer sounded. The under-door groaned open, letting in a blast of icy wind that swallowed half the cabin. Far below, the sea stretched black and endless, the moon cutting silver lines across the restless waves. It was three in the morning and the drop would feel like a punch of cold straight to the bones.
The countdown flashed onto the wall panel.
Ten. Nine. Eight.
The soldiers moved to the edge, rifles firm in their grip. Their parachutes hummed as they powered on.
Three. Two. One.
Kael stepped out without a moment of doubt. The darkness swallowed him whole. One by one, his squad followed him into the freezing night.
The ocean hit like a slab of ice, but they surfaced with steady breath and smooth movements. Their helmets glowed faint green inside, guiding them through the black water toward the shape of the island ahead.
By the time they reached shore, they were soaked through, salt water dripping off their gear. Kael stood first and raised his rifle, voice steady and commanding.
"This is a rescue mission," he reminded them. "We are not here to clear the whole island. We secure the target and bring her home. Clear?"
"Yes, sir," they answered together.
Kael gave one nod. "Move."
They slipped into the forest at once. The thick canopy swallowed the moonlight until only shadows remained. The green glow of their HUDs floated around them like faint fireflies. Their boots pressed into damp soil without a sound, rifles ready and steady.
Kael lifted his hand, palm open. The squad froze. Eyes scanned the dark. When he signaled with two fingers, they moved again. Brick guarded the back. Ghost swept his rifle in smooth arcs. Jester whispered about mosquitoes, then fell silent when Kael shot him a look.
Every signal was silent. A closed fist to stop. A pointed finger to divide. A wave forward to advance. The forest wrapped around them as if it knew their steps, swallowing their sound as they moved deeper in full, practiced rhythm.
Ahead, through the thick wall of trees, a faint glow formed the outline of a house. Kael raised his hand, his fingers cutting through the dark with sharp, practiced motion. Ghost saw it at once. He slipped away without a sound and climbed a tall tree, his body sliding into the branches like he belonged there. Leaves swallowed him whole. Within seconds he vanished into the canopy, just another shape in the night.
Kael moved on with the others, keeping low as they crept toward the light ahead. The shapes of armed patrols drifted around the house. Their rifles hung across their chests, boots dragging lazily as if the night had lulled them into carelessness.
Kael's signs came quick and clean. The squad split up, each man diving into the shadows like a predator on the hunt. One patrol went down with a silent choke. Another fell with his neck turned at an ugly angle. A third never even saw the blade that slipped across his throat. Each body sank into the grass with no more noise than a sigh. The forest swallowed their deaths.
Kael crouched beside one of the fallen men and studied the rifle on the ground. It was not some cheap black market weapon. The metal was clean. The body well serviced. A familiar crest sat carved near the stock. His crest. Their own military seal.
A cold ripple ran through him. This was not random gear passed around by criminals. These were issued weapons. Delivered with purpose. Given to the enemy by someone who knew exactly what they were doing.
His jaw tightened. He looked up, ready to signal the others, but Brick, Jester, and Baby Face had already moved deeper into the compound. They slipped through the perimeter and inside the house without a single glance in his direction.
Kael felt a stab of irritation. They never broke formation. Not without his command. Not once in all the years he had led them.
He tried to push it aside. Mission first. Answers later.
He reached for the doorframe, ready to slip inside, when the night snapped apart.
Tatata!
Gunfire exploded from within the house. Sharp echoes ripped through the island air. Kael's stomach dropped. This was not how it was supposed to go. If they had followed his lead, the strike would have been clean. Now everything was falling into chaos.
He pressed flat against the wall and slid behind the entrance door. His comm hissed to life as he tried to call them.
"Report."
Nothing. He switched channels, calling Ghost. Again, nothing. Only dead silence.
Shouts rose outside. The alarm spread fast, boots pounding through the brush as enemies charged toward the house. Kael steadied his rifle and took them down with cold precision. One shot, one body. Sharp. Clean. Merciless. None made it to the doorway.
Still no movement from inside.
He stepped in slowly, each foot measured, every breath tight. His eyes swept the corners, the shadows, the blood streaks leading deeper into the house.
Then he froze.
Baby Face lay on the floor, blood pumping from a wound in his neck. His fingers still clung weakly to his rifle. The muzzle smoked faintly. Kael knew at once. The kid had been forced to fire before he was taken down.
It was an ambush.
Kael's chest tightened, but discipline held him steady. He crouched low and moved from pillar to pillar, keeping his profile small. The truth hit him with each step. This was never a simple mission. The enemy knew them. They had planned for them. The only unknown was how deep the betrayal went.
Then the shots came without mercy.
A clean crack. Pain burst through Kael's shoulder and spun him half around. He hit the wall hard, a hiss of pain slipping through his teeth. That shot was not meant to kill. It was meant to disable. It was too perfect. Too precise.
His mind jumped to the only name it could.
Ghost.
No other sniper could make a shot that neat. No one else could aim to break instead of finish.
"Impossible," Kael muttered, but the truth pushed against him like a hand on his throat.
He shifted his rifle into his left hand. His right arm had already gone numb. He barely had time to adjust before another bullet tore into his opposite shoulder. His weapon slipped from his grip and clattered across the floor. Warm blood poured down both arms.
Bootsteps followed. Slow. Confident.
Brick and Jester stepped into view with rifles raised. There was no hesitation. They fired twice, the bullets punching into Kael's legs. His knees gave way and he dropped hard against a pillar, the cold stone pressing into his back as blood spread beneath him.
His vision wavered, but the shock in his chest burned sharper than the wounds. Brick. Jester. Ghost. Men he had trusted with his life. Men who had called him captain, brother, friend.
Now they stood over him with empty eyes.
The pain in his body was brutal, but the one tearing through his chest was worse. It cut deeper than any bullet.
He lifted his head, eyes full of fury and heartbreak, then he spoke, his voice was not more than a breath.
"Why…"