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LOCATION: HANEDA INTERNATIONAL AIRPORT
CITY: TOKYO, JAPAN
DATE: APRIL 16, 2026 | TIME: 1500 HOURS
The Gulfstream G700 arrived at Haneda International Airport in Tokyo a few minutes before 3:00 PM local time.
The plane pulled into a private hangar. Grim and his team stepped out and stretched their legs.
They were expecting a delivery from a contact at the naval base in Yokosuka, arranged by Nathan Rourke.
The courier's van rolled to a stop inside the hangar, engine still running. A young man stepped out wearing a Yokosuka base pass on a lanyard, glanced once at Grim's team, and gave a curt nod.
"Delivery for Thorne," he said, voice low.
"Right here," Grim replied.
The man slid the side door open and revealed three heavy nylon bags.
He passed Grim a clipboard with a single line to initial. Grim scrawled something that wasn't his real name.
The courier shut the van door and he was gone a moment later, taillights fading across the tarmac.
One of the bags carried five Heckler & Koch HK416A5 assault rifles and five SIG Sauer P320-M17 sidearms, all with suppressors.
The second bag was full of a metric shit-ton (a very precise measurement) of ammunition for both.
A third nylon bag had night vision optics, IR laser illuminators for the rifles, several med kits and a bunch of military rations.
And explosives. Another veritable metric shit-ton of those.
Grim, Brick and the others began laying out and checking the equipment on a set of tables in a back room of the hangar.
"Not sure if we'll need the night vision or the lasers," Aria said, "but those med kits are certainly welcome."
"Agreed," Grim said, looking over everything carefully.
He cleared the chamber and checked the sights on the rifle and pistol he selected.
"Looks good," he said. "Everyone set? It's almost time to roll out."
Brick was sweating.
"Can't I just wear a ski mask and jump the customs officer in Dalian?" he asked.
Sienna brushed against him, instantly calming his nerves.
"If you're a good boy," she purred into his ear, "Nina and I will reward you later."
"Can't wait to get in the box!" Brick amended his previous misgivings.
Grim looked at Brick and chuckled.
"We only need to be in the boxes when the bird lands and our crates are rolled through the bonded warehouse," he said. "Maybe a half hour tops."
Vanessa just laughed. She was looking forward to working with this team.
"You know," she said, "I've got a lot of stealth experience by this point, sneaking around Allovia. But I am excited to see you guys in action."
Grim put his hand on her shoulder and smiled.
"I want to say we'll keep you safe," Grim said, "but you're not exactly a civilian anymore. So yeah. Let's have some fun raining hell down on these fuckers."
They shifted their gear around once more, divvying up the ammo and adding the new firepower to the packs they had brought from the States.
Three electric carts, each carrying two members of Grim's team, hummed across the dim apron, weaving between fuel trucks and idling Gulfstreams, until they reached Hangar 502.
Inside, the SF Express cargo plane sat fueled and ready, the hired pilot leaning against the stairs with the wary look of a man who'd been paid enough not to ask questions.
Less than a half hour later, they were airborne, bound for Dalian, a Chinese port city less than a two-hour drive from Dandong, the team's gateway into North Korea.
Every step of the mission from here on out was going to require everything they had. Infiltrating a country on high alert, fresh from striking a US supercarrier, wasn't going to be easy.
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LOCATION: USS COLORADO
AREA: NORTHERN SEA OF JAPAN
DATE: APRIL 16, 2026 | TIME: 1900 HOURS
By 1900 on the 16th, the Colorado was as close as it could get without triggering North Korean radar and sonar pings. It was time.
The twelve SEALs had gotten two hours of sleep, and divided themselves into two six-man units. Each unit had three American and three Koreans.
Commander Coleman and his XO saluted and shook hands with all twelve, wishing them godspeed and good hunting.
A Chief Petty Officer escorted them to the Dry Deck Shelter (DDS) and the teams loaded into the Swimmer Delivery Vehicles (SDVs) that would take them just short of the North Korean shore.
After they were settled inside, all non-essential personnel cleared the DDS. The compartment was flooded, pressure equalized, and the outer hatch swung open to the cold April waters of the Sea of Japan.
Two hours of slow, silent progress later, the vehicles were secured on the sea floor at a designated recovery point.
They had aimed for an unremarkable sandy cove several miles south of the port in Riwon, a tiny fishing village on North Korea's east coast.
Heavy waterproof bags slung to their backs, the twelve men swam carefully toward the shore. At 2100, the darkness was complete.
The cloud cover was a gift from the heavens, keeping visibility from the shore low.
The man on point for Mountain Team Alpha raised his head a few inches to scout the shoreline.
A narrow spit of dark sand under low cloud, the breakers rolling in soft and cold. A line of shadowed pines crowned the shore just beyond the tideline, their needles whispering in the wind.
No lights. No movement. Perfect.
He waved his arm to signal the others as he exited the water, his suppressed H&K rifle at the ready.
He and the Bravo Team leader covered while the others got into position among the pine trees, unloaded their swim gear, and put on the fatigues that would be with them for the next few days.
The men checked their weapons, explosives and survival gear.
They sent the "all clear" signal back to the Colorado. That was the last non-System communication they would have for the following week.
Then two men collected all the swim gear and stashed it into two black nylon bags, which they buried along with the dismantled radio, and covered with brush from the forest floor.
With a silent nod, Mountain Team Alpha headed northeast.
Team Bravo waited ten minutes to keep their distance, then headed southwest from their position.
Both teams disappeared into the darkness.
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LOCATION: WHITE HOUSE SITUATION ROOM
CITY: WASHINGTON, DC
DATE: APRIL 16, 2026 | TIME: 9:00 AM
In the White House Situation Room, President Trent was receiving his first briefing of the morning.
After having stayed up most of the night, they opted to start the day at 9:00 AM, when they would have a few key confirmations to report.
"Mr. President," Jonathan began, "we have the Chinese Ambassador arriving in an hour. We've got the Oval set up for that meeting."
"Understood," the President replied. "Can we clear the room of all but Jonathan and Nathan? I need a word."
The senior aides were surprised at the request, but they complied immediately.
"Nathan, update me on Operation Twin Fang."
Nathan laughed. "That briefing was scheduled for after your meeting with the Ambassador, but sure. Give me a minute to check the latest."
Nathan pretended to look through some files on his laptop while he was actually checking the System message that had just arrived from Grim.
---
Just arrived in Dalian.
I'll eat a pork bun for you.
Should be on the road in thirty.
---
"Mr. President, I have confirmation that Mountain Teams Alpha and Bravo have both made landfall. They are radio silent and on their way to their first destinations."
"Good," Trent said. "What else?"
"Grim and his team have also just landed in Dalian," Rourke said. "From there, they are three hours out from entering hostile territory. They'll also be radio silent now, but I have a way to send and receive brief communications to all three teams."
"How do you—"
"Sorry, sir, I was told I could keep this one under my vest. Plausible—"
"Deniability. Every President's favorite fucking phrase. Fine. Keep your secrets. But keep me in the loop, okay? I want to know everything."
"Sir," Nathan said, "these teams will succeed in their missions. I have zero doubt, and as a CIA lifer, you know I don't say that lightly."
President Trent laughed.
"While that's reassuring," he said, "it's not about doubting they can get the job done. After losing the Ford, I'm having a hard time not taking this personally. So keep me in the loop. I want every piece of black ops good news I can get while I continue to play to the press. It's driving me crazy."
Nathan Rourke nodded. "I get it, Sir. I wish I was there too."
As everyone filed back into the Situation Room, Trent glanced down at the morning briefing on the table in front of him.
The estimated death toll stared back in black and white:
5,238 souls.
One hundred percent of those aboard the Ford. He closed the folder quietly, the number searing itself into his memory.