A Gunnery Sergeant shoved a female patron to the floor twice, completely unaware she was a former Navy SEAL task force commander.

Emerging from the harbor without making a sound was an art form that few operators ever mastered. Alexis hauled her water-weighted body up the ladder one rung at a time, allowing the sea water to drain slowly from the folds of her dry-suit so it wouldn't splash against the concrete deck.

At the edge of the pier, she crouched behind a stacked row of heavy timber fenders. She unstrapped her dive fins, securing them to her harness, and drew the suppressed SIG P226.

The immediate area was bathed in harsh halogen light, but the gaps between the giant intermodal shipping containers created narrow corridors of absolute pitch-black shadow. Alexis slipped into the dark corridors like a wraith, her wet boots gripping the industrial asphalt.

She paused at the corner of Container Row C. Ahead, illuminated by a floodlight mounted on a forklift, two figures were tied to an iron bollard near the entrance of Cargo Hold 3.

They were young men in torn tactical vests bearing the embroidered insignia of the local naval base's civilian auxiliary patrol. One was unconscious, his head slumped forward with dried blood matting his hair; the other was barely twenty, his face bruised and swollen as he struggled against zip-ties binding his wrists behind the steel post.

Standing over them was a broad-shouldered mercenary smoking a hand-rolled cigarette, an AK-103 rifle resting casually across his shoulder. He laughed harshly as he kicked the awake Marine in the ribs, demanding something in a guttural Eastern European dialect.

The Marine groaned, coughing, but spat blood onto the concrete and muttered, "Go to hell, you piece of trash."

Alexis felt a cold, familiar surge of tactical resolve steady her pulse. She didn't have time to wait for JSOC’s airborne element; if that guard decided to execute the Marines to clean up loose ends, their lives were over in seconds.

She checked the perimeter: no other sentries had line of sight on this specific alley between the containers.

Alexis stepped out from the shadow. She raised the suppressed pistol, sighting along the three-dot tritium night sights, aligning them directly with the base of the mercenary's skull.

*Pfft. Pfft.*

The two subsonic rounds sounded like heavy textbook pages snapping shut in a quiet room.

The mercenary collapsed instantly without a cry, his weapon clattering harmlessly against his chest as his knees buckled.

Alexis covered the twenty yards between them in less than three seconds. She caught the falling rifle before it could hit the concrete, setting it down silently, then dropped to one knee beside the captured Marine.