At 8,000 meters above ground, the deafening roar of the military aircraft filled the cabin. The fully geared Quick Response Team sat inside with their eyes closed, resting quietly. Owen kept mentally reviewing every detail mentioned in the intel report.
"Two minutes to target zone."
The pilot's voice came through the earpieces, and everyone opened their eyes simultaneously, beginning to check their equipment and prepare for the jump.
Their destination this time was Costa Rica. The entire Quick Response Team had uniformly opted for breezy boonie hats instead of stifling helmets. These hats were incredibly convenient—their wide brims could block the sun in deserts, shield from rain in jungles, and keep shrapnel or debris from falling into one's collar in battle. When not needed, the sides could be rolled up with the chin strap, giving off a bit of a cowboy vibe. Boonie hats were increasingly replacing berets in military units worldwide.
"Fifteen seconds…"
The pilot shouted again over the comms. The five-man team lined up at the jump door, fully prepped. The red light turned green, and with the blaring of the alarm, the jump door slowly opened. Owen jumped first, followed by Ghost, then Monica, Swagg, and finally Heartbeat…
At 6,000 meters, Owen pulled his parachute cord just like he had been trained during his time with the SEALs. He silently counted to five, but the expected upward pull never came. Looking up, he saw the load strap tangled—the main chute hadn't deployed.
Shit\~\~\~
A thousand curses ran through Owen's mind. He'd seen this before during SEAL training—someone whose main chute deployed too late, and with the load strap snapping, the reserve chute couldn't fully open before hitting the ground. There hadn't even been a chance to save him. He couldn't believe he was facing the same nightmare now.
"Owen, deploy your reserve! Deploy it now!"
His teammates shouted urgently through the comms. Owen decisively pulled the release mechanism, but the main chute didn't detach. Damn it—did it have to be this dramatic? He was plummeting in free fall. The rest of the team had their hearts in their throats.
Owen himself was terrified, but he forced himself to stay calm—only calmness could save his life.
He pulled out his knife and began cutting the parachute cords. After several frantic slashes, the main chute finally separated. By then, the ground was rapidly approaching. He yanked the reserve chute cord, and with a loud "thump," the reserve opened successfully, a sudden upward force jerking him upward. Owen exhaled deeply, narrowly escaping disaster.
In the darkness, parachutes swayed in the air. Though they looked slow, the descent was actually rapid. Owen watched his altimeter closely, ready for the moment of landing.
A short while later, Owen touched down safely. He was luckier than that unfortunate SEAL from back in training—at least his altitude had been high enough. He quickly gathered up his chute, and the rest of the team landed one after another. That near-death experience was a first for him—even with all his extreme sports and SEAL training, nothing like this had ever happened. Thankfully, his reserve had deployed.
"Ha! Was that thrilling or what?"
"You should try it yourself sometime…"
Heartbeat teased him nonchalantly. Owen rolled his eyes—he never wanted to go through that again. It was more intense than any extreme sport imaginable.
"Is everyone okay?"
Once the team regrouped, Owen asked. In night jumps, the landing was always the riskiest part. Even a twisted ankle could jeopardize the mission—they'd not only have to complete the op but also spare personnel to evacuate the wounded.
Everyone shook their heads—no injuries. Owen took out the GPS tracker.
"We're 5.8 kilometers from the target, heading 553…"
Once the direction was confirmed, the team began trekking through the jungle. Costa Rica was unbearably hot—the temperature hovered above 30°C year-round, with extreme humidity and a stifling atmosphere. Yet they had to wear sealed combat uniforms as they pushed through the jungle terrain.
Before long, everyone was drenched in sweat. Over an hour later, the Quick Response Team reached a waterway. Costa Rica, with its typical tropical climate, was rich in rainfall, and its ground crisscrossed with waterways.
They hid behind vegetation on the riverbank. Across the water lay their objective: Mikhail's secret compound. The entire site was surrounded by barbed wire, equipped with watchtowers, and patrolled by armed guards both around the perimeter and at the riverside dock.
"Heartbeat, observe the enemy's layout. Everyone else on alert…"
Owen issued the order and pulled out his communicator to contact Jenny. "Unicorn to Nest, status check?"
"Nest copies, everything normal at the moment."
At CTU headquarters, Jenny sat intently at her workstation, operating her computer with full concentration. Jack stood beside her, wearing a headset. The screen displayed live footage from the military's "Hawkeye" AWACS, which was monitoring Mikhail's base in real-time. Any unusual movement in the barracks would be immediately spotted.
"Unicorn copies."
After confirming with Nest, Owen moved on to contact their support element.
"Unicorn to Thunderbird, do you read?"
"Thunderbird here."
Owen was contacting the helicopter extraction team—Thunderbird was their codename.
"We're in position. What's your ETA?"
"Thunderbird en route, estimated arrival in twenty minutes…"
"Unicorn copies."
While Owen coordinated with all three parties, Swagg was already changing into his ghillie suit. Specifically designed for tropical rainforest terrain, the suit concealed him perfectly. Even his scope was covered with camouflage mesh to prevent any reflective glare from giving away his position.
"Eyes on three sentries—one at the dock, one in the watchtower, and one on the side. The last one appears every thirty seconds…"
Heartbeat reported his observations. The team quickly finalized a plan: eliminate the one at the dock first, then the watchtower, and finally the side sentry.
"I'm going to find a sniper position."
Swagg left with his sniper rifle, a CheyTac M200 Intervention. It was fitted with a muzzle brake and suppressor, making the barrel look ridiculously long. This rifle had once been part of his private collection and had been custom-modified by him.
After he'd been declared a fugitive, all his firearms had been confiscated and stored in the evidence locker. This rifle had been recovered for him by Jack Bauer through special connections.
"Target Eye in position."
Swagg's voice came through the comms shortly.
"Buddy, it's all on you…"
"Don't worry. I'll keep your hides safe."
Swagg's reply was simple but full of confidence, carrying the weight of a man who could command the battlefield with a single bullet.
"Unicorn, there's a vehicle by the western gate. If things go south, you might need it…"
Jenny's voice reminded them over the comms.
"Unicorn copies."
The mission objective was to rescue the hostage—to get in silently and leave just as quietly. That was the ideal scenario. But in reality, things rarely went perfectly. If a firefight broke out, they'd have to move fast, locate the hostage quickly, and make a forced withdrawal.
If the helicopter could extract them, great. If not, those vehicles would be their only ticket out.
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