A cocky sergeant spent four days harassing me, completely blind to the fact that my calm silence was just a warning.

The silence inside the joint training facility was total. Not a single soldier in the bleachers dared to whisper; even the referees stood motionless along the perimeter as the high-ranking Pentagon Observer stood face-to-face with the young female operator.

"Sir," Commander Hayes spoke up, stepping down from the raised platform and walking toward the edge of the mat, his tone carefully guarded. "Operator Mitchell is assigned to Special Warfare Development group support. Her combative records are fully cleared in the primary registry."

The Pentagon Observer raised a single gloved hand, silencing Hayes without taking his eyes off Avery.

"The primary registry doesn't teach kinetic redirection from the third hip-axis, Commander," the Observer said softly, his voice sharp with decades of intelligence experience. "That technique wasn't developed in Coronado, nor was it taught at Fort Moore. It belongs to a closed-protocol unit operating out of Blackwood Basin in ninety-eight."

Briggs, who had finally pushed himself up to his knees, swallowed hard. He looked at Avery’s face, realizing that the woman he had called a "little girl" possessed a background so classified that even senior base commanders were kept in the dark.