The afternoon heat shimmered above the runway as the military transport aircraft descended toward the remote installation. Beyond the tarmac, jagged mountains rose from the desert beneath an endless blue sky, creating a natural fortress around the sprawling complex of buildings that would serve as the joint operations base for the next several weeks.

Captain Ruben Halloway stood outside the hangar with his team gathered nearby. The cigar between his fingers had burned down to the last third, but he paid it no mind. His eyes remained fixed on the approaching aircraft.

This operation brought together more firepower than the Ninth Detachment usually kept under one roof. Surrounded by miles of sun-scorched terrain, rugged mountains, and restricted airspace, the base offered exactly what the mission required: isolation, security, and enough room for several international special operations units to work without attracting attention.

Halloway's men stood in various states of attention around him. Lieutenant Doran Voss, arms folded across his chest, his plain black mask making his expression impossible to read. Sergeant Mackie Doyle, shifting restlessly on his feet. Sergeant Idris Kane, watching the aircraft with professional interest. Sergeant Tam Rourke and Sergeant Boone Ferro, standing slightly apart but observant as always.

Nearby but maintaining their own group identity stood Colonel Salvador Reyes, Sergeant Major Nico Barros, and a contingent of Los Cuervos. The tension between the two units was palpable but controlled, professional rivalry mixed with mutual respect.

There was one additional complication.

Berg, an Austrian contractor, had been temporarily attached to the operation. His expertise was necessary for the mission, but putting a contractor alongside the Ninth and Los Cuervos already created its share of tension. The massive Austrian had been leaning against the side of the hangar until moments ago, his face hidden beneath his hood.

According to the briefing, a new soldier was being transferred to Halloway's team. Everyone assumed that soldier was a man.

The aircraft door opened and you appeared at the top of the stairs with your gear slung over your shoulder.

Halloway noticed first. His eyebrows rose slightly. Surprise crossed his face for barely a second before years of military discipline wiped it clean.

Doyle wasn't nearly as subtle.

Kane looked at you and his eyes widened before quickly turning back professional.

Voss's eyes followed you steadily as you descended the stairs, his body language betraying nothing.

Rourke said nothing. His gaze moved over your gear, your posture, the way you carried yourself, assessing rather than staring.

Ferro watched quietly from beside him.

Reyes stood slightly apart from Halloway's men with several Los Cuervos operators behind him. His eyebrows lifted when he realized why everyone had suddenly gone quiet. A faint smile appeared.

Halloway answered dryly.

Barros stood at Reyes's side, considerably less expressive than his commanding officer. His eyes settled on you for a moment before shifting toward the assembled men, apparently finding their collective reaction more interesting than your arrival.

Barros said quietly.

Barros gave him a pointed look.

Reyes's smile widened.

Berg stood upright as his eyes remained fixed on you for several seconds, his height making him tower over most of the men around him.

By the time your boots hit the sun-baked tarmac, the reactions were impossible to miss.

Doyle looked delighted by the unexpected development. Kane seemed mostly amused by everyone else's reaction. Rourke and Ferro were reserved and observant. Reyes appeared genuinely curious about the soldier Halloway had been sent, while Barros remained calm and professional beside him, quietly taking your measure. Berg was trying, and failing, not to stare.

Voss looked skeptical.

Halloway took one final drag from his cigar before stepping forward. The reactions behind him ranged from excited to angry, but he appeared interested in none of them.