Inside the building, the Quick Response Team members searched the rooms with caution. Outside, a man cursed as he pushed open the door to the restroom and stepped out. This was Mikhail's base, built like a military compound, with spartan accommodations. Naturally, the bathrooms weren't in-room but located outside in a separate structure.
The guard had been struck with sudden stomach pain near dawn and had rushed out to relieve himself. Now finished, he was walking back—when he noticed something odd in the shadows ahead.
The sky had brightened enough to see clearly, though the rainforest still cast its natural gloom.
He stopped by the river to wash his hands, shaking them dry while eyeing the shape in the distance. It looked… familiar?
As he approached, he suddenly stiffened. Now he could see clearly—it was a corpse. Someone he recognized. A fellow villager.
Panic gripped him. He looked toward the two barracks still lit up and was just about to shout when a spray of blood burst from the back of his head. He collapsed to the ground, lifeless—just like the one he had recognized.
In the distance, Swagg released the trigger and moved his scope, scanning again, ever vigilant for unexpected threats.
...
Inside the building, Owen and the rest continued moving in a CQB formation, sweeping quickly through the rooms. Just seconds ago, Catherine's tortured screams had suddenly stopped, and the flickering lights had gone still. That unsettled Owen—he didn't know if the electrocution had ended, or if Catherine was already dead.
He signaled for the team to accelerate the search.
They cleared several rooms in succession without finding anything. Then, suddenly, Jenny's voice came through the earpiece: "Nest to Unicorn, Thunderbird ran into a problem—only two helicopters will make it to the extraction point."
"Unicorn copies."
Owen acknowledged and kept moving. The original plan called for three Black Hawks. For unknown reasons, only two would arrive. Still, that would be enough.
The Black Hawk is a versatile multi-role helicopter used by the U.S. military—capable of performing assault, transport, rescue, and reconnaissance missions. One Black Hawk could easily carry over a dozen people, plenty of room for the entire team. The other two had primarily been meant for escort, so losing one wasn't ideal but still manageable.
At this point, most of the structure had been searched. Unlike the exterior barracks, this building had many rooms but few occupants. After clearing the initial target, the rest of the rooms had been largely empty.
Another fork appeared ahead. Owen was about to split the team into two groups when a voice suddenly echoed from the far left hallway. He raised a fist, signaling the team to halt and listen. After a moment, he glanced at Monica—the speaker had been speaking Italian, and she was the team's language expert.
Monica nodded and signed: the target is that way. Owen waved the team forward, and they moved silently down the left corridor.
The hall wasn't long. Only a single room waited at the end.
Owen crept closer—the door wasn't locked, just barely ajar. Everyone automatically took their assigned breach positions. Owen began a silent countdown with his fingers.
Three… two… one.
Owen slammed his boot into the door and quickly stepped aside. The door flew open, and Ghost moved in. A man stood with his back to them, holding a buzzing electric drill. In front of him were various tools—more accurately, torture devices. He was mid-selection.
"Pfft-pfft~"
Ghost didn't hesitate—two rounds to the back of the head. The burly man crumpled like a sack of meat.
"Clear."
With Ghost's call, the rest of the team entered. In the corner, a woman was cuffed to a metal bedframe. One end was clamped tightly with large clips; the other connected to a machine. Clearly, this was the setup used for electrotorture.
While the others secured the room, Owen slung his weapon and rushed over.
The woman didn't move. Owen brushed her hair back—it was indeed Catherine. He felt for her breath—weak, but still there.
Slap-slap-slap—Owen gently tapped her face. "Catherine, Catherine~~~ Can you hear me?"
On the metal frame, the battered woman barely moved her swollen eyelids. Her lips twitched as if trying to say something, but no sound emerged.
She'd been tortured for days. Unspeakable cruelties had ravaged her body, and she had long since run out of strength. By the time Owen found her, she just wanted to die.
Now, with rescue so near, she was overwhelmed—but her body had nothing left to give. The recent electrotorture had drained her completely.
Owen understood her state. Most hostages recovered in such conditions were like this.
He pulled out a small injector. "This'll hurt a bit. Hang on…"
Without hesitation, he jabbed it into her chest.
The pain barely registered, but as the fluid entered her bloodstream, Catherine suddenly jolted upright, gasping for air. Her mind seemed to snap back into focus.
Owen discarded the injector. What he'd given her was epinephrine—adrenaline. A temporary lifesaver.
Catherine wouldn't die—at least not for now. Owen hoisted her onto his back and radioed, "Unicorn has the package, beginning exfil. Target Eye, stand by for support."
"Target Eye copies."
"Nest copies. Thunderbird has arrived at Extraction Point One."
With confirmations from both ends, Owen moved out, Catherine on his back. Monica took point, Ghost guarded the flank, and Heartbeat covered the rear.
So far, the operation had gone smoothly. The objective had been rescued without alerting the enemy. All that was left was to retrace their steps and slip out to the extraction zone. If all went well, they'd be gone before Mikhail even realized anything had happened.
Everything seemed smooth—but surprises can strike at any time.
At CTU Headquarters, warning lights suddenly flashed on Jenny's console. On the AWACS feed, several vehicles were speeding toward Owen's location.
"Unicorn, Unicorn, alert! Unidentified vehicles approaching from the north at high speed…"
Jenny's voice held urgency. Owen, en route back, suddenly halted. Damn it. Just their luck.
North—exactly where they came from, and also the planned exfil route. Now it was compromised. Swagg really was a jinx…
"Head west!"
Owen made a split-second decision. The rest of the Quick Response Team didn't hesitate. They immediately reversed course—Heartbeat took point, Monica moved to the rear. Owen and Ghost kept their positions in the middle.
The team returned to the earlier fork in the hallway. This time, instead of turning left toward the rescue room, they veered right.