"You don't choose the wars you fight after you're out of uniform. They choose you. Sometimes they have the face of a friend. Other times, of a political decision. But almost always... they wear silence."
— Dylan Travers, internal memo (Langley, 2014)
Langley, Virginia — May 21, 2014 | 6:28 AM | CIA Headquarters
The underground corridors of CIA Headquarters in Langley were silent at that hour of the morning. But Dylan Travers was used to the silence. His footsteps echoed with a firm, controlled weight. His black-sealed Ground Branch badge hung around his neck, the white background of the card contrasting with his wrinkle-free gray dress shirt. He looked like any other civilian consultant—until you looked into his eyes. Anyone who knew Travers's past knew that he was never "just anyone."
His phone had been vibrating since 4:00 AM. Three encrypted messages. A direct call from the Chief of Station (COS) in Langley: Kaitlyn Meade.
Upon entering the L5 conference room, Dylan saw that she was already waiting for him.
L5 Briefing Room | CIA Langley HQ
Kaitlyn Meade was a striking presence even in silence. A dark blazer over a white collared blouse, dark brown hair pulled back in a precise bun, intense green eyes that said everything before the words even came out.
— "You're late, cowboy," she said, without lifting her head from the tablet screen.
— "Three minutes," Dylan replied, leaning against the wall.
She closed the tablet with a soft click and looked at him.
— "You know how the place gets when Amanda isn't around, right? Nobody can control you."
Dylan gave a brief smile.
— "She's in Beirut. She sent me a selfie holding an M4 rifle on a rooftop."
Kaitlyn snorted.
— "Romantic, in her own way."
They sat down. She slid a printed dossier across the table towards him.
The red stamp on the cover said it all:
OPERATION FALCON STRIKE — NORTHERN IRAQ — CLASSIFIED GROUND BRANCH / LIONESS QRF
Dylan read in silence for almost two minutes. Kaitlyn watched him.
— "They're in Erbil now. But the target crossed the line out of the safe zone. Specifically, Al-Qosh."
— "And you need me to go in with Lioness."
She nodded.
— "You know Joe McNamara. She's still the case officer for the operation. She's with Lioness on the ground. But I want you there to reinforce."
— "Since when am I reinforcement, Meade?"
— "Since this operation involves something bigger than a regional target. We've discovered a movement of Syrian weapons via Zakho, routed to Mosul. The name that came up in the middle of all this is Faisal al-Raqqi."
Dylan leaned back in his chair. He recognized the name.
— "Al-Raqqi? I thought he disappeared in 2010."
— "That's what everyone thought. But it seems he's organizing a new smuggling channel—not just weapons, but intelligence. He has people inside ministries in Iraq and Syria. One of the intermediaries was seen in Al-Qosh two days ago."
Dylan flipped through a few more pages.
— "And the Lioness QRF is with Joe?"
— "Exactly. You know most of them. Bobby, the extremely capable field leader. Two snipers: Two Cups and Tucker. Randy, who does EOD and demolitions, and Tex, fire support and logistics."
Dylan closed the folder.
— "And you want me to go as an observer?"
— "No." She looked serious. "I want you to go as an operator. Official. Integrated. Joe trusts you, and so do they. You're the missing link to keep this mess from escalating beyond what we can handle."
Dylan stared at her. His gaze hardened. But not in denial—in acceptance.
— "What's the plan?"
Langley — 08:42h | Operations Room
While Dylan was being prepared for infiltration, Kaitlyn was sending discreet communications to Erbil. On the monitoring screen, Amanda briefly appeared, on a direct status call from Beirut.
— "Did you send Dylan to the red zone?" she asked, drying her face with a towel.
Kaitlyn replied:
— "You know yourself that he doesn't stay put for long."
Amanda laughed.
— "Just do me a favor."
— "Say it."
— "Don't let him die there."
Kaitlyn simply replied, dryly:
— "That depends more on him than on me."
Erbil, Iraqi Kurdistan — May 24, 2014 | 02:12h (local time)
Dylan exited the silent MH-60 helicopter with his face covered by night vision goggles. He wore a tactical uniform without insignia, a light backpack, and a G19 pistol in a holster. The early morning air was dry, biting, and dusty.
At the makeshift base on the outskirts of Erbil, a figure awaited him. Short, black hair, modular vest — Joe McNamara, the senior CIA officer, former Marine, and now responsible for leading the Lioness unit in the field.
— "I thought you had retired to the beaches of California," Joe said, extending her hand.
— "I thought you had died in South Sudan," Dylan replied, shaking her hand.
Joe laughed.
— "Let's go. The team is assembled. And eager to see you."
Planning Barracks | 02:27h
The operations room was spartan: a central table, heat maps taped to the walls. The room was filled with satellite feeds and a coffee maker heating water like a drone engine. There they were:
Bobby: Leader of Lioness.
Two Cups: Sniper.
Tucker: The other sniper.
Randy: Explosives expert.
Tex: The most communicative, tactical support and designated driver.
Dylan entered. All eyes turned to him. Silence for a second. Then Bobby spoke:
— "Look who's here... the veteran wolf has arrived."
— "Happy to be back," said Dylan, without smiling. "Let's get down to business."
Joe went to the whiteboard. He pointed to the map of Al-Qosh, a small historical town 50 km from Mosul.
— "Our target is a middleman named Sadiq al-Mirani. He maintains an antique shop as a front, but sources indicate that it serves as a transit point for al-Raqqi operatives."
Two Cups added:
— "Someone in a Kurdish officer's uniform went in there yesterday. Came out with a flash drive. SIGINT picked up something big. Communications with Aleppo."
Dylan frowned.
— "And what does Kaitlyn want?"
Joe replied:
— "Visual confirmation of the contents. If the contact is there and it's feasible... extraction. If hostile... elimination and data collection."
Bobby crossed his arms.
— "And you, Travers? Are you here to lead or observe?"
Dylan looked at everyone.
— "I'm here to do whatever it takes. Leadership belongs to the team. I'm just the shadow that pulls the trigger when the time calls for it."
Tucker murmured:
— "Poetic."
Randy smiled.
— "Or threatening. I haven't decided yet."
Tex handed Dylan a tablet.
— "This is the layout of the shop. One entrance, back access to the alley. Three floors. We'll enter from above, via the side roof."
Dylan analyzed it for a few seconds. — "Make the move. Put me on the east roof. I want a view of the second floor. If anyone tries to escape that way, I'll be the last thing they see."
Bobby nodded.
— "Copy that. We leave at 03:30."
Route to Al-Qosh — May 24 | 03:52
Two unmarked Land Cruiser vehicles advanced along the gravel roads. Dylan was in the passenger seat, calibrating a suppressed SCAR-H rifle. Bobby was at the wheel.
— "Are you still as accurate as they say?" she asked, eyes on the road.
Dylan replied, without taking his eyes off the scope:
— "I miss on purpose sometimes. Just to give them hope."
She smiled.
— "Joe was right. You're a dry son of a bitch, but reliable."
— "That's the best compliment I've received today."
Al-Qosh — 04:18 | Operation Execution
The team split into three units. Dylan went up to the roof with Two Cups and Tucker. Randy was planting a breach charge at the back. Bobby and Tex were preparing the entry from the front.
— "All in position," Joe whispered over the radio.
Dylan adjusted his earpiece.
— "Target in the middle room. Two armed men. No civilian movement."
— "Go," Bobby ordered.
Boom. Door breached. The muffled sounds of suppressors filled the air. Dylan observed from the roof: one of the men on the second floor was trying to escape through the side balcony.
— "Visual on hostile. Permission to engage."
Joe:
— "Green light."
Dylan fired. A single shot. PTAK. The body fell like a puppet with its strings cut.
— "Contact neutralized. Sector clear."
Five minutes later, Bobby confirmed:
— "Mirani apprehended. Data collected. Drive in possession. One dead, no casualties."
Joe, via radio:
— "Excellent. Extraction in 15."
Back at base — 7:43 AM
In the barracks, Dylan was cleaning his rifle. Bobby arrived with two bottles of water and tossed one to him.
— "You haven't lost your touch."
— "You don't lose what you've internalized."
Joe appeared at the door.
— "Kaitlyn sent a message. She wants you both back on the encrypted channel. The data shows something bigger than just routes."
— "Al-Raqqi?" Dylan asked.
— "No. Worse. An undercover agent's name in Ankara appeared in the files."
Silence.
Bobby murmured:
— "This is going to turn into a diplomatic nightmare."
Dylan locked his weapon, stood up.
— "Then let's prepare for a real war."
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