[IEA]: Hunting Rats

[Grant]

Afghan Defence Minister Javed Karim sat behind his desk, the operation brief spread open before him. He had reviewed it several times, each glance deepening his sense of urgency. The details were all there, but his mind wouldn’t rest until he was entirely sure. Vanguard, the private military contractor instrumental in securing Kabul from the Taliban, was the ideal group to execute this mission. He had already arranged a meeting with their commander, Adrian Wolff, to review the details and propose the mission.

Javed took a deep breath as he sat back in his chair, his fingers idly tracing the edges of the document. A knock at the door broke his concentration, pulling him from his thoughts. The sound was firm, precise—like everything else about Wolff. The door opened, and Adrian stepped in. His posture was rigid, and his gaze was sharp as ever. He commanded the room with a quiet authority that made even the most seasoned leaders pause. Javed straightened in his seat, a slight nod signalling Adrian to take the chair across from him.

“Commander Wolff,” Javed greeted, his voice steady but carrying a hint of the weight of the conversation. “Thank you for coming."

Adrian gave a brief, almost imperceptible nod in acknowledgement, his face betraying little emotion as he settled into the chair. He didn’t speak immediately, his eyes narrowing slightly, studying Javed. He said firmly, "Minister Karim. You wished to speak with me?" Adrian paused, waiting for more information.

“We have a critical operation on our hands,” Javed began, flipping through the file until it landed on the first page. “This mission requires a team that operates with precision, discretion, and authority. I’m proposing it to Vanguard because you’re the best we have. The objective is to infiltrate known Al-Qaeda and Taliban strongholds.” He paused for a moment, ensuring Adrian was following along. “The primary task is to locate and gather intelligence on their movements, track down their supply routes, and identify new, hidden locations where they may have set up operations.”

Adrian’s expression remained neutral, but Javed could see the wheels turning in his head. The man was always calculating, always thinking three steps ahead. His silence didn’t concern Javed; it was simply Adrian’s way of processing information.

“Once you’ve infiltrated these areas,” Javed continued, keeping his tone steady, “you’ll have full authority to neutralize any insurgents who threaten the completion of your objectives. No holds barred. The key element of this mission, however, is to capture the leadership of the Al-Qaeda cell. We need them alive.” He let the last words hang in the air for a moment. “For interrogation.”

Adrian’s eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze shifting as he absorbed the weight of what Javed had just laid out. The mission was more than just tactical—it was strategic. The intelligence they could gather from capturing the leadership could shift the balance and safety of the world.

“Understood,” Adrian finally responded, his voice as calm and deliberate as ever. “We’ll need precise intel before we deploy. Infiltration will require a well-coordinated effort, and the team will need full operational autonomy. This mission won’t be easy, but we’re capable. I assume our usual fee is still in place?”

Javed’s lips twitched slightly at the question. Adrian had always been pragmatic, with the business side of things never far from his mind. “It never is,” Javed replied, his voice maintaining its even tone. “But yes, I’ll arrange payment later today. You’ll be fully compensated, as agreed.” He leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping to emphasize his next point. “You’ll have all the resources you need to succeed. And, should you require additional support, the Afghan forces will be standing by, ready to assist. But this mission... it’s yours.”

Adrian’s expression softened ever so slightly as he processed Javed’s words. There was a quiet understanding between them—an unspoken recognition that, despite the challenges ahead, this mission would be carried out with the precision and efficiency that only Vanguard could provide.

“We’ll make it happen,” Adrian said, a hint of determination in his voice. “My men will be on the ground in twelve hours. We’ll get the job done.”

Javed nodded, satisfied with the response. He had always respected Adrian’s confidence. The two men shared a brief moment of understanding, both aware of the gravity of what lay ahead. Adrian reached forward, extending his hand to take the file from Javed’s desk. Javed handed it over without hesitation, knowing that the mission was now in capable hands. The next phase of the operation had officially begun.

 

[Grant]

Hours had passed, and Adrian leaned over the table in the planning room, his keen eyes scanning the array of maps and reconnaissance photos. Documents from Javed lay scattered across the surface, each holding a vital piece of the puzzle he needed to solve. Methodically, he cross-referenced the images with the marked locations on the map, aligning intelligence with the terrain. His mind worked through scenarios, analyzing every stronghold and every possible infiltration route, weighing the risks against the potential advantages in silence. He considered ambush points, extraction routes, and the likely resistance, his thoughts running in quiet intensity.

At the centre of the table, a large map displayed a satellite image of the Sulaiman Mountains, stretching along the southeastern border with Pakistan. Known throughout the land for their jagged peaks, the mountains stood as a formidable natural fortress. Their ridges and deep gorges formed near-impenetrable barriers, the unforgiving terrain of steep cliffs, dense valleys, and winding paths that had swallowed entire armies before. Adrian continued scribbling notes, his strategy taking shape. Every decision had to be precise. In this terrain, a single mistake could spell disaster—and almost certainly, death.

Outside the room, Adrian heard the faint sound of approaching voices. He counted the footsteps, each growing louder as they neared the door. When they arrived, the door swung open purposefully, revealing his team standing in the doorway. Adrian smirked slightly and gestured toward the seats in front of the table.

"Good morning, gentlemen. Take a seat; we’ve got a lot to cover."

The team exchanged glances before filing in, each man finding his place around the table. The atmosphere shifted; the casual camaraderie gave way to focused anticipation. Without a word, Adrian turned and switched on the projector. The dim glow of the screen flickered to life, magnifying the maps and reconnaissance images behind him. The terrain, targets, and mission details were now fully visible. Adrian turned back to the group, his expression hardening into unwavering focus. Gripping the pointer, he tapped the first image as he began speaking.

"This operation aims to neutralise insurgent groups entrenched in the Sulaiman Mountains, along the border with Pakistan. These mountains have long served as a stronghold for Al-Qaeda and Taliban forces, primarily due to the difficult terrain and limited governmental presence. The mountains provide a natural sanctuary for insurgents, challenging how military operations can be done. However, with the increased cooperation from the Afghan Armed Forces and prior intelligence gathering, we are ready to face these challenges head-on. The risks are considerable—the terrain will slow our movements, and the weather will grow unpredictable as we ascend. Expect IEDs along the paths and guerrilla tactics at every turn."

Adrian surveyed the room briefly, gauging the team’s reactions before taking a quick swig from his canteen to wet his throat.

"The first objective is establishing a forward operating base in the region, designated FOB Zulu. This base will be the central hub for all operations, providing logistical and tactical support to sustain our ongoing missions. FOB Zulu will ensure we maintain a secured presence in the region."

Adrian moved to the other side of the board, tapping the pointer at three distinct markers on the map as he spoke.

"The second objective is infiltrating and neutralising insurgent strongholds at Waypoints Alpha, Bravo, and Charlie. These locations have been identified as likely insurgent concentrations. Through a combination of intelligence, reconnaissance, and tactical operations, we will move to dismantle these threats and disrupt any insurgent networks operating in the area. Our third objective is to gather intelligence on other insurgent cells within Afghanistan and across its borders. This intel will be crucial in understanding the full scope of insurgent activity and preventing future attacks. We will work closely with local intelligence sources and leverage technological assets to track real-time enemy movements. Lastly, the operation seeks to capture a high-value target—HVT-1—leader of an Al-Qaeda cell. Extracting him through Afghan forces will strike a significant blow to the network and disrupt their regional operations. The successful capture and extraction of HVT-1 will be coordinated with Afghan military forces."

Silence descended as Adrian took a step back toward the table. He placed the pointer down with a decisive motion, his gaze sweeping across the room. Slowly, he moved around the table, positioning himself in front of his men as he leaned against the edge.

“The usual Rules of Engagement apply,” he said, his tone steady and commanding. “Our priority is to minimize harm to non-combatants and ensure every action is proportional and justified. We are boots on the ground in 10 hours. The Afghan Air Force will insert us near the base of the ridge, and we’ll make our way to FOB Zulu to set up. Any questions?”

The room stayed eerily quiet, and a slight smile tugged at Adrian’s lips. With a quick motion, he dismissed his team. One by one, they filed out, the door closing softly behind them. Adrian listened to their footsteps fade down the hallway before turning to face the image projected on the screen behind him. The clock was ticking.

 

[Grant]

---

Vanguard HQ, Bagram Air Base, Afghanistan - 19:30 AFG (UTC+4:30) ​

---

The Vanguard team spent the next several hours meticulously preparing their gear for the arduous mountain operation. This wasn’t a casual trek—it would test their endurance, resilience, and planning to the limit. With unpredictable terrain and harsh conditions awaiting them, every piece of equipment had to be carefully chosen and securely packed. Communication devices were tested repeatedly; losing contact could spell disaster in such a remote environment. Alongside their survival preparations, the team thoroughly inspected their G36C rifles. Each weapon was stripped, cleaned, and rigorously checked for functionality. Bolts were cycled, optics calibrated, and magazines loaded with precision. In the unforgiving terrain ahead, reliability was paramount. Satisfied, they secured their weapons, ensuring they were ready for quick deployment.

As the sun dipped behind the jagged peaks, they made final adjustments, mentally steeling themselves for the journey ahead.

Adrian strode into the room where the team was making their final preparations. He quickly pushed the door open, his commanding presence instantly capturing their attention. His sharp gaze swept across the room, taking in the neatly packed bergens lined up and ready for departure. He gave a firm nod, then delivered his orders in a steady, authoritative tone.

“Wheels up in ten. Let’s move.”

The team responded instantly. They shouldered their heavy bergens, tightened the straps, and made final adjustments before heading out. Boots echoed against the floor as they moved swiftly through the corridors of their complex. Emerging onto the tarmac at the rear of the facility, they were greeted by the rhythmic thrum of rotor blades slicing through the evening air. A freshly deployed Mi-17 transport helicopter from the Afghan Air Force sat on the nearest helipad, its fuselage gleaming under the floodlights. Inside the cockpit, the pilots ran through their final pre-flight checks, hands moving deftly over the controls as one read through the flight checklist.

Each team member ascended the rear ramp, stepping into the dimly lit interior of the Mi-17. They took their seats along the fuselage, sliding their bergens down in front of them for easy access. Securing the heavy packs with their legs, they fastened their waist buckles tightly, locking themselves in for the flight ahead.

Moments later, the helicopter’s rotors roared to life, the rhythmic pounding intensifying as the Mi-17 lifted off. As they ascended, the Vanguard troops felt the familiar pressure in their stomachs, instinctively adjusting to the motion. Through the small windows and the open rear ramp, they watched Kabul’s skyline unfold beneath them, its sprawling cityscape bathed in the soft glow of countless lights. Streets and buildings shimmered like a sea of flickering embers against the dark landscape—a breathtaking sight. But beyond its beauty, the view carried a sombre realization: this was the last glimpse of stable, non-hostile civilization they’d see for days—perhaps longer.

Silence filled the cabin for a few moments, each soldier absorbing the scene before refocusing on the mission ahead.

---

Outskirts of Terkha, Afghanistan-Pakistan Border - 21:03 AFG (UTC+4:30) ​

---

After conferring with the pilots, Adrian stepped out of the cockpit and approached the loadmaster, exchanging a few quiet words. Without hesitation, he moved down the cabin, his voice firm but controlled as he addressed the team.

“Touchdown in a few minutes. Check your weapons. When we’re down, I want a full 360-degree perimeter until the bird lifts. Use the dust for cover and secure a position before it settles.”

Each member readied themselves, strapping their bergens back on and bracing for the touchdown. Adrian secured his rifle, moving into position alongside the team as they waited for the rear ramp to lower. The loadmaster raised a hand before activating the release, the interior lights shutting off to preserve darkness. In perfect unison, NVGs were lowered into place, casting the world in an eerie green glow. Rifles came up, safety catches flicked off, and the team tightened their formation, prepared to disembark. The familiar jolt of landing rippled through the fuselage. Without hesitation, the team moved down the ramp, boots hitting the dirt as they spread out into a well-rehearsed defensive perimeter around the helicopter. Heads pivoted, scanning for threats, eyes trained on the darkness beyond. The helicopter’s exterior lights had been cut on approach, leaving only the stars' distant glow and the rotors' ambient hum overhead.

Adrian confirmed the last man was clear of the helicopter before tapping his radio.

“Team is clear. Wave off, wave off.”

The pilots acknowledged immediately. The deep thudding of the rotors surged as the Mi-17 lifted off, kicking up a storm of dust as it veered north and disappeared into the night.
As the helicopter's roar faded, silence settled over the landing zone. Adrian’s gaze swept the terrain, quickly identifying a small crevice at the base of the mountainside. He pointed, his voice a low whisper.

“Over there. Move slow—watch for insurgent lookouts.”

The team nodded, advancing with care and blending into the shadows as they pushed forward towards the crevice.

 

[Grant]

The team huddled in the crevice, scanning their surroundings for any sign of movement. They had just landed in one of Afghanistan’s most dangerous regions, where friendly faces would be scarce for days. Pressing himself against the rock wall, Adrian gripped his G36C, raised it to the ready, and edged around the corner, his weapon trained up the hill. Moving cautiously along the wall, he lifted his off-hand behind him, signalling the team to advance. As he neared the base of the incline, Adrian dropped to a knee, retrieving a map from his pouch. Keeping close to the jagged rock face, he studied it through his night vision goggles, committing the terrain to memory. Once confident in their position, he tucked the map away and murmured into his radio.

"Two klicks of rocky terrain ahead until we reach the FOB set-up point—plus a murderous incline that’ll set your glutes on fire. Good luck, gentlemen. Eyes up."

The quiet grumbles from his team drew a smirk from Adrian, but he quickly wiped it away, returning to the sharp focus he was known for. The team moved toward the rocky incline, their movements deliberate and silent. Four members began scaling the uneven terrain, careful to keep their ascent as quiet as possible. At the same time, the rest took up defensive positions at the base, eyes scanning the ridgeline for any threats.

In the distance, a warm glow flickered against the valley walls, growing steadily closer. The soft chime of a bell accompanied it, carrying through the still night air. Adrian, leading the group, raised his fist, bringing the team to an immediate halt. He listened intently, soon recognizing the familiar cadence of Dari—voices low and unhurried. As the figures neared, the team instinctively melted into the shadows, waiting.

Two elderly Afghan men emerged from the darkness, guiding a lone goat along the pass.

"Farmers... Let them pass," Adrian murmured into the radio.

The team remained motionless as the pair continued along the pass, their lantern’s glow fading into the night. Moments later, the valley was still again, the soft jingling of the goat’s bell now a distant memory. Adrian resumed the climb, his boots finding steady purchase on the loose rock. Reaching the top, he dropped into a defensive stance, scanning the horizon before giving the all-clear. The rest of the team followed one by one, pulling themselves over the crest to regroup. Adrian crouched low, his rifle tucked tightly into his shoulder as he surveyed the terrain ahead. The valley stretched into the darkness, jagged ridges and uneven ground making their path treacherous. The team gathered behind him, their breathing steady despite the climb. He motioned forward with two fingers, signalling them to move.

They pressed on in a staggered formation, navigating through the loose rock and dry, brittle underbrush. The silence was unwavering, broken only by the crunch of boots against the earth. Every few minutes, Adrian would pause, scanning with his night vision goggles, ensuring they weren’t being followed or watched. After an hour of steady movement, they reached a dried-up riverbed that carved a natural path through the valley. Adrian dropped to a knee, motioning for the team to take cover. He traced a gloved finger across the map, confirming their route.

“We follow this for another klick, then cut north into the hills. We’re close.”

As they pressed forward, the terrain became increasingly difficult. The incline was relentless, their boots slipping occasionally on the loose gravel. Sweat trickled down their brows despite the cold night air. The occasional howl of a distant jackal echoed through the valley, but otherwise, the night remained eerily still. Near the final ascent, Adrian noticed the faint outline of rock formations that matched their designated FOB setup location. He motioned for the team to fan out, covering different angles as they moved in. They approached cautiously, clearing the immediate area before gathering in the centre of the rocky plateau.

Adrian checked his watch—almost dawn. He activated his radio.

“We’re here. Secure the perimeter and start setting up.”

The team sprang into action. Some began assembling the temporary structures, while others unpacked equipment and checked weapons. Adrian climbed onto a higher vantage point, overlooking the valley they had just traversed. From here, he could see for miles—a natural defensive position, just as planned. As the first rays of sunlight crested the horizon, he took a deep breath. The easiest part was over. Now, they had to fortify their position and prepare for whatever came next.

 

[Grant]

---

FOB Zulu
Sulaiman Mountains, Afghanistan-Pakistan Border
05:22 AFG (UTC+4:30)

---

​

Morning arrived, yet the air remained crisp, carrying the biting chill of the Afghan mountains. The sun crept higher, its light stretching across the rocky plateau, slowly working to chase away the night’s lingering cold. Sleep had been fleeting. Each team member had taken their turn on watch, scanning the rugged terrain for any sign of movement while the others stole what little rest they could. Near the plateau’s edge, a lone soldier sat with his back against a jagged boulder, rifle resting across his lap. His eyes were heavy, but his mind stayed sharp, honed by years of discipline. He had spent the last few hours observing the valley below, ensuring no unwanted visitors had crept into their perimeter.

The soft crunch of boots on gravel signalled a shift change. He saw Adrian approaching, his breath still thick in the cold morning air. The team leader had recently stirred from what little sleep he’d managed, his movements slow but purposeful.

“Anything?” Adrian asked in a hushed voice.

The soldier shook his head. “Nothing so far. Just a few jackals in the distance. No movement along the ridgelines.”

Adrian gave a slow nod, eyes sweeping the horizon before crouching beside him. The valley stretched below them, jagged cliffs and winding trails carving through the landscape. It was a good position—strategic, defensible—but also isolating. Reinforcements wouldn’t come quickly if things turned south.

Behind them, the rest of the team began to stir. Tents rustled as groggy figures emerged, rubbing stiff limbs and adjusting their gear. Steam curled into the cold morning air as a portable stove heated water for their rations. The camp was modest but efficient—tents blending into the rugged surroundings, equipment stacked neatly in designated zones. A few men worked silently, double-checking their weapons, ensuring everything was in order.

Adrian turned from the soldier and stepped toward the tents, rolling his shoulders to shake off the lingering stiffness of the cold night. He raised his voice just enough to cut through the morning quiet, ensuring the nearby team members knew to gather.

“On me,” he called, his tone firm.

The response was immediate. One by one, the team fell in beside him, some still adjusting their gear, others finishing off their breakfast rations. Their faces were hardened and focused. Adrian knelt beside his tent, resting an arm on his knee as he scanned the faces around him. The wind stirred fine dust across the plateau, but otherwise, the morning remained still.

“We move to Waypoint Alpha in the next hour,” he stated, his voice carrying the certainty of a leader who expected no hesitation. “It’s a local village nearby, and we’re expecting insurgent contact. Intel suggests enemy fighters have been moving through the area.”

Adrian continued, his eyes sweeping over them. “Could be nothing. It could be a whole damn hornet’s nest. Either way, we stay sharp, we stay tight.”

He exhaled and stood, glancing at the horizon. The village lay out there somewhere, nestled among the ridges and dry riverbeds.

“Gear up. Final checks in twenty,” he ordered. “We step off in sixty.”

Without another word, the team dispersed, some heading straight for their weapons, others tightening straps and adjusting their loadouts.

---

Near Waypoint Alpha
Sulaiman Mountains, Afghanistan-Pakistan Border
06:45 AFG (UTC+4:30)

---

​

The team gathered along the dried riverbed, the crunch of their boots muffled by the loose sand and scattered stones. Their movements were deliberate, weapons kept low but ready. Ahead, nestled within the rugged terrain, lay the remote village designated as Waypoint Alpha. A handful of small huts, constructed from mud bricks and weathered wood, stood clustered together, their faded walls blending into the arid landscape. Thin trails of smoke curled lazily into the sky from a few of them, suggesting the quiet stirrings of village life.

Adrian slid into cover against a jagged rock face, raising his binoculars to his eyes. The lenses clicked softly as he adjusted the focus, scanning the settlement. His gaze swept over the village, counting figures, noting patterns in their movement. A group of children darted between the huts, kicking up dust as they ran. A woman in a faded shawl carried a basket toward a makeshift well. Further back, an old man hunched over, tending to a bundle of sticks, perhaps preparing for the morning fire. As he widened his scan, something else caught his attention. Near the outer boundary of the village, partially concealed behind a crumbling stone wall, two armed men stood in hushed conversation. Their rifles were slung casually, but their eyes constantly shifted, scanning the landscape. Further down, another figure moved along the edge of a hut, gripping an AK-47 as he paced.

Adrian’s jaw tightened. These weren’t villagers. These were insurgents. He counted at least four visible gunmen, though there were likely more hidden among the buildings. Their relaxed posture suggested they weren’t expecting trouble, but that could change in an instant. Keeping his voice low, Adrian motioned for his men to join him. His team surrounded him, eyes locked on the village ahead.

"I have spotted at least four armed contacts within the village perimeter," Adrian murmured. "Could be more inside the buildings. No uniforms, but they’re carrying AKs. We’re looking at insurgents."

Adrian lowered his binoculars, his mind running through their options. A direct engagement would be risky—civilians were scattered throughout the village, and if these militants had reinforcements nearby, things could spiral fast. He turned to the team, keeping his voice low but firm. "We move in slow and controlled. No sudden movements, eyes sharp, fingers off the triggers unless I say otherwise. If we get clocked, drop them before they can alert anyone. Let's move."

Adrian slid his binoculars back into his bergan and gripped his G36C, his fingers settling into a firm, practiced hold. With a sharp wave of his hand, he signaled the team to regroup. They moved swiftly, falling into formation as they advanced along the dried riverbed, their rifles trained in the direction of the village. The air was thick with tension, each step deliberate and controlled. Every member had already fitted their silencers, ensuring their approach would be as quiet as possible. This wasn’t going to be a full-scale assault—not yet—but if things went south, they needed every advantage to keep the upper hand.

As they reached the edge of the riverbed, Adrian crouched behind a cluster of rocks, scanning the terrain ahead. A stretch of open ground separated them from the village—an exposed kill zone with no real cover. Moving in a tight group would be suicide. He turned to the team, voice low but firm. “Two-by-two. Move fast, stay low. We cover from both ends.”

The first pair took off, darting across the exposed ground, their movements swift and controlled. The others kept their rifles trained on the village, scanning for threats. The second pair followed, then the third. Each crossing increased the risk of being spotted. As the final team prepared to move, Adrian caught a flicker of movement near one of the huts. He froze. A militant, previously leaning against a doorway, had straightened up, his head tilting slightly as if he'd noticed something. His body tensed, suspicion setting in. Adrian barely had time to signal before the insurgent took a cautious step forward, squinting into the distance. Then another. His hand shifted toward his rifle.

The team pressed themselves against the ground, trying to melt into the terrain, but it was too late. The insurgent's eyes locked onto their position. His grip tightened on his weapon, and his mouth opened, ready to call out—

A suppressed shot cracked through the air. The insurgent's head snapped back, his body crumpling instantly.

"Dropped him," one of his men muttered across the radio.

The body slumped against the hut’s outer wall, limp, lifeless. For a brief moment, the village remained still, unaware of what had just happened. Adrian turned back to the team, his voice just above a whisper. “No time. Move, now.” The remaining members rushed across the open ground, taking up positions at the village’s edge. Adrian pressed his back against the outer wall of a mud-brick hut, his rifle tucked tight into his shoulder. The team stacked up behind him, weapons raised, eyes scanning every angle. The village remained eerily still, save for the distant rustling of the wind through dry brush and the occasional muffled voice from inside one of the structures.

He signaled toward the nearest doorway, motioning for two of his team to take point. One reached for the handle, turned it slowly, and pushed the wooden door inward, his rifle leading the way. The other moved in right behind, sweeping left as his partner moved right. Inside, a dimly lit room revealed two men seated on woven mats, speaking in hushed tones over a metal teapot. Their eyes shot up at the sight of the soldiers, confusion flashing to fear. One of them reached for something under his vest—

A muffled crack from a suppressed rifle ended the movement before it could begin. The man collapsed, a pistol slipping from his lifeless fingers. The second man shot to his feet, hands raised in surrender, his body trembling. "Clear," one of the soldiers called quietly, keeping his rifle trained on the survivor. Adrian stepped inside, scanning the room before nodding to another soldier, who swiftly moved in with zip ties. He wrenched the man's arms behind his back, securing his wrists before stuffing a rag into his mouth and wrapping a cloth around his head to keep it in place.

"No witnesses, no warnings," Adrian reminded them in a hushed tone.

They moved fast, clearing the next few huts in similar fashion. Some held nothing but empty bedding and scattered belongings. Others had villagers—men, women, even a few children. The women and children were huddled in the corners, terrified but unarmed. The men, however, were another story. One hut contained three males of fighting age, their expressions hardened with defiance. One man hesitated, eyes darting toward a wooden chest in the corner. A soldier caught the movement and slammed the butt of his rifle into the man's stomach, doubling him over before forcing him to the ground. Within seconds, they were restrained, wrists zip-tied and mouths gagged.

Adrian’s sharp gaze swept across the dimly lit hut, noting every detail. This space was different from the others—larger, more lived-in, and filled with signs that it served as more than just a shelter. A worn-out map was tacked onto the far wall, its edges curled and frayed. Crates, likely containing supplies, were stacked against the corner. A small wooden table sat in the center, cluttered with papers, a battered radio, and an old AK-47 with extra magazines laid out beside it.

This wasn’t just a home—it was a meeting place. Possibly a command post. He moved quickly, flipping through the scattered documents. Some were simple notes—supply lists, route markings—but one set of papers caught his attention. Scribbled in Arabic, they detailed recent movements and rendezvous points. He signaled one of his team members over, passing them the stack of documents. "Bag these. We might have something big."

He turned to the rest of the team. “Secure the remaining huts, then prepare to move out. I'll get the Afghans in to secure this area once we've gone."