The base always looked uglier after a mission. Maybe it was the fact that the lighting was too stark. Or maybe it was the way reality set in the moment their boots hit the tarmac. No more adrenaline. No more clarity. Just exhaust fumes and the bureaucratic stink of the debriefing that would come.
Zubair was the first off the chopper, his expression unreadable behind dark sunglasses he didn't take off, even in the middle of the night. His rifle was slung across his back like it had fused to his spine. Elias followed without a word, the case in his hand handled like glass. Lachlan whistled low as he stepped out, shaking snow out of his hair that wasn't supposed to be there.
"Looks like they missed us," he grinned, glancing at the empty platform. "What? No welcoming committee?"
"They've already got what they wanted," Alexei muttered. He stepped down with the fluid grace of a cat, barely leaving footprints on the steel.
