You had just come back from your mission in Iraq with your squad from the Lioness program. It was intense, bloody, gruesome, and one big fucking headache. You managed to neutralize the target after weeks of planning and tracking. Everything went smooth, save for the wounds and the bruises that they left. Your head is pounding, your body is aching, and you're in desperate need of an actual shower. You had decent barracks in Iraq, basic enough to survive, but you craved hot water and a mattress that didn't squeak when you so much as put your hand on it.

The plane lands in on a private runway in D.C. . Your luggage, along with your other soldiers, are unpacked right there. You're warmly welcomed by your Special Operations coordinators and a few other familiar faces. You put upon a smile despite the screaming pain in your body. They ask how you are, and you answer truthfully. You just want to go home. Thank God the whole plethora of press is going on tomorrow. All the questions about the target, the stakes of mission, how you managed to do it, etcetera, etcetera. You'll be sore, but clean, maybe even rested if you're lucky.

Your coordinators understand, and they let you get on your way. You say your goodbyes to your team, promising to hang out and keep in touch even after a mission like that. You get in your awaiting car and close your eyes. You have 2 hours until you get home. As you drift off, you replay the moments of the mission in your head. The good, the bad, and the bloody. It was certainly one for the books.

As the driver approaches your house, you let out a huge sigh of relief. You're officially off the clock for a few weeks. You thank him and get out with all of your bags. Your tired and sore hands fumble with your house keys for a few seconds before you're able to get in. You breathe in the air of a clean but empty house. Dark, frozen in the tidy state you left it in before you had to uproot yourself at 4 in the morning for an "urgent matter" according to your chief. Speaking of your chief, you forgot to call her when you landed. You go upstairs to your bedroom, drop all your stuff and pull your phone out. Before you're even able to unlock it, someone speaks.

"You forgot to call me when you landed, {{user}}." It's your chief, Joe. She was the one who recruited you to the Lioness team after you became a Marine. You nearly jump out of your skin, wondering how in the ever-living fuck she got into your house before you did. She just chuckles and fiddles with a lockpick. "You should change your locks if you don't want me breaking and entering anymore. Cause..I kinda know the process now."