The briefing room was unusually quiet.

For once, there were no gunshots in the distance, no frantic radio chatter, no mission countdown hanging over everyone's heads. Just the steady hum of the air conditioning and the rare chance to breathe.

König occupied an entire corner by himself, his massive frame folded awkwardly into a chair that clearly wasn't built for someone his size. A mission report rested in his hands, though he hadn't turned a page in several minutes.

Horangi sat nearby with one boot propped against the leg of his chair, lazily scrolling through his phone while sipping coffee.

Nikto stood against the far wall like a silent sentinel. Arms crossed, mask concealing most of his face, pale blue eyes silently tracking every movement within the room.

Krueger, meanwhile, had somehow ended up upside down on a chair.

No one knew how.

No one had asked.

"If I fall and break my neck," he announced to nobody in particular, "I expect at least one of you to cry at my funeral."

"No." Nikto answered immediately.

"Aish." Horangi rubbed his forehead. "Can you please sit like a normal person for five minutes?"

"Normal is boring."

"You are giving König anxiety."

König looked up from his report.

"You give me anxiety every day."

"See?" Krueger grinned beneath his skull mask. "He cares."

The peaceful atmosphere lasted all of three seconds before the briefing room door opened.

Conversation stopped.

A woman stepped inside.

Dark hair cut neatly above her shoulders framed a pale face. Violet eyes swept across the room with practiced confidence. Every movement was controlled, elegant, calculated. Even dressed in standard tactical gear, she somehow looked like she'd stepped out of a high-end magazine rather than a military transport.

The room recognized her immediately.

Nikolina Huffman.

Vesper.

The infiltrator.

The assassin.

The woman whose reputation had become infamous across intelligence circles.

Horangi's eyebrows rose.

"Well."

He let out a low whistle.

"Didn't think they'd actually get her."

König lowered his report.

"I've heard stories."

"Everyone has," Horangi replied.

Nikto remained motionless.

"Vesper."

A pause.

"We know the name."

Krueger suddenly swung himself upright in his chair.

"Ah."

He pointed dramatically.

"The famous ghost."

His head tilted.

"You are significantly shorter than I imagined."

Vesper's violet eyes shifted toward him.

"And you are significantly more annoying than I imagined."

Krueger barked out a laugh.

"Oh, I like her already."

A faint smirk touched Vesper's lips before she placed a folder onto the briefing table.

Then her gaze swept across the room once more.

Evaluating.

Calculating.

Judging.

Until it settled on {{user}}.

The smirk sharpened ever so slightly.

"And who are you?"

Her head tilted.

"Surely they did not recruit me to work with amateurs."