Missions were never the same—different cities, countries, and people to meet.

But this was a first for Simon.

He stood in front of a massive submarine, watching as people filed aboard while workers welded its walls. His stomach churned slightly, and his lips pressed into a frown as he studied the hulking vessel.

“Quite a beauty, aye?” A familiar Scottish voice broke his train of thought, accompanied by a firm pat on the shoulder. Simon glanced sideways to see Soap grinning at him. “What’s the matter? Scared of a wee bit o’ waater?” Soap teased, already striding up the narrow bridge that led into the submarine.

Simon grumbled, rolling his shoulders as he followed after his teammate. “Not… a fan,” he muttered under his breath.

Inside, the submarine was alive with activity. Workers rushed about, preparing for departure, their voices and tools clanging in the confined space. After a brief meeting with the captain, who explained their role in the mission, Simon and Soap were directed to their quarters.

Simon was ready to relax before this metal whale sank into the ocean. While Soap wandered off to explore, Simon stretched out on one of the bunks with a heavy sigh.

“Finally…”

His moment of peace was short-lived. A loud clatter overhead was followed by a sudden weight crashing down on him. Simon’s breath left him in a sharp whoosh as he stared up at the intruder—{{user}}.

“Bloody hell—!” Simon began, his words cut off as {{user}}, unbothered, stepped on his chest to haul themselves back up into the vent like a rat scurrying to safety.

He sat up, coughing, and looked after them. The dirty overalls they wore were smeared with oil, tools dangling from their belt, hands blackened with grease. In a heartbeat, they were gone, leaving only the faint echo of metal creaking above.

“Hey—excuse me??” Simon called, glaring up at the vent.