Mangroves are not a single type of tree but an entire coastal ecosystem formed by dozens of salt-tolerant tree species that thrive at the intersection of land and sea. These trees anchor their roots deep into tidal mudflats, creating vast coastal forests. During high tide, parts of the mangrove forest are completely submerged, an impressive and unique natural phenomenon.
Jack had once seen a documentary on the Discovery Channel about the mangroves in Sri Lanka. In it, local fishermen used canoes to navigate the edges of the forest, making a living by catching fish and shrimp. But experiencing the mangroves in person was an entirely different feeling. The sheer abundance of shellfish and lobsters around the area was jaw-dropping. Unfortunately, this wasn't a pleasure trip, and there was no time for feasting.
Roughly thirty minutes earlier, the team had disembarked from a shabby old yacht near the coastline. In pairs, they used underwater propulsion devices to navigate past sharp, jagged underwater rocks before safely coming ashore. Their skill was commendable, but it also highlighted the depth of U.S. control over the Americas. The team had chosen a random stretch of coast, yet logistics officer Lisa Davis was able to quickly pull up tidal and weather data from the military database. The implications of this were obvious.
Once ashore, the team peeled off their wetsuits and retrieved their gear from waterproof bags attached to the propulsion devices. After donning their equipment, Jack smeared camouflage face paint over his skin. The oil-based paint wasn't just for blending into the environment—it also contained insect repellent. He applied it not only to his face but to all exposed skin, including his neck and arms. The mangrove forest, much like a tropical rainforest, was a vast ecosystem teeming with all kinds of snakes and insects.
This was Jack's second time navigating a jungle environment, coincidentally with the same SEAL team. Unlike the previous mission, this time they were moving inland from the coast.
"Tell me that roar wasn't from a jaguar," Sonny muttered nervously, as he hacked at the undergrowth with a machete at the front of the group.
"Do you want me to hold your hand, Sonny?" Jack teased, adjusting the boonie hat on his head. In jungle missions, the wide-brimmed hat was essential to keep bugs from crawling onto your scalp. Those who didn't like hats often wrapped their heads in scarves to achieve the same effect.
"I just want to stay where I belong—at the top of the food chain," Sonny shot back, passing the machete to Jack when it was his turn to lead the way.
Noticing how naturally Lieutenant Lopez moved through the environment, Jason couldn't help but ask, "You seem pretty at home here. Do you get out into the jungle often?"
"My dad was a history buff," Lopez replied, his voice calm but with a hint of nostalgia. "When I was a kid, he'd take me to explore Mayan ruins and tell me stories about how the ancient Maya would cut out the hearts of their captives for sacrifices.
At the time, I couldn't even begin to comprehend that level of brutality," Lopez added, his tone now carrying an edge.
"So, it's not so hard to imagine now, huh?" Jason said, picking up on the subtext.
Though human sacrifices had long since disappeared from the continent, the cycle of violence never stopped. And the cartels' methods were far more brutal than anything practiced by the ancient Maya.
The group trudged on through the dense jungle, their conversation lighthearted and casual, as if they were simply on a nature hike. It wasn't that they lacked vigilance—it was just that in this environment, insects and venomous snakes posed a far greater threat than any human adversaries.
Navigating the thick mangroves was already physically exhausting. Even elite SEALs couldn't afford to remain in a state of constant alert for hours on end without burning out before a fight. Instead, they rotated duties: one member would clear the path, another would cover the rear, while the rest maintained formation. In such an uncharted, hot, and humid environment, advancing at a speed of one kilometer per hour was already considered fast. Jason's earlier estimate of six hours for the trek proved spot-on.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, the group finally stumbled upon a narrow trail cutting through the jungle. Immediately, they fell silent and raised their weapons. The presence of a trail meant people frequented the area. And where there were people, there could be danger.
Jason signaled for Ray Perry and Brock Reynolds to scout ahead. The two slipped into the shadows, moving with practiced stealth while the rest of the team waited. A few minutes later, a report crackled through the comms.
"We've found a camp guarding a rear entrance. At least six hostiles in sight," Ray whispered.
Jack frowned. Why hadn't the drones spotted this camp? They were still two or three kilometers away from Doza's villa, well beyond the perimeter mentioned in the intel. He followed the rest of the team as they crept forward to regroup with Ray and Brock.
When Jack finally saw the camp for himself, the answer became clear.
Before them stood a small concrete bunker, its surface covered in dense vines and camouflaging foliage. It blended seamlessly into the surrounding jungle, making it nearly invisible from above. To further obscure its position, the bunker was draped with camouflage netting. A group of armed men lounged outside, chatting loudly.
"Command, this is Bravo 1," Jason whispered into his radio.
"Copy, Bravo 1. Go ahead," Blackburn replied. By now, the operations center had fully transitioned to the retrofitted communications bay inside the C-17 Globemaster, which was parked at a secret military airstrip.
"We've identified a hostile position to our northwest, 45 meters out. Six confirmed hostiles in view," Jason reported, peering through the 3x magnifier on his rifle. "We plan to bypass them and rejoin our original route."
"Copy that. Minimize your detour—your time for rest is already limited," Blackburn said after a brief pause, approving the plan.
The team's current position was southwest of Doza's villa. According to their original plan, they were supposed to reach the edge of a nearby polo field—an open area adjacent to the villa. This clearing was their designated extraction point, where a helicopter would land for pickup after the operation.
The team planned to rest near the polo field, waiting until nightfall before launching their assault. However, the detour meant less time to rest, increasing the risk of fatigue during the mission.
As the team prepared to move, Jack's sharp eyes caught something unusual through his rifle scope.
"Hold on," he whispered. "Top of the bunker, under that second layer of netting. Is that… a flak cannon?"
Everyone froze.
Jason turned his attention to the structure. The faint silhouette of a gun barrel became visible under the netting, just as Jack had said.
"Command, Bravo 1," Jason said again over the comms. "We've got a problem. The enemy bunker is armed with anti-aircraft artillery. Confirming presence of a flak cannon."
There was a pause on the other end before Blackburn responded, his voice tense. "Copy that, Bravo 1. Stand by. I'll pull satellite footage for confirmation."
Jack glanced at the others, who shared the same grim expression. An anti-aircraft gun? Hidden in a jungle bunker? This operation just got a whole lot more complicated.
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Surgical Fruit in the American Comics Universe (Chapter 1289)
American Detective: From TV Rookie to Seasoned Cop (Chapter 1316)
American TV Writer (Chapter 1402)
I Am Hades, The Supreme GOD of the Underworld! (Chapter 570)
Reborn as Humanity's Emperor Across the Multiverse (Chapter 660)
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