The camera pans over the bustling terminal of Sheremetyevo Airport. Travelers wheel suitcases, kids chase each other through the crowds, and announcements echo in Russian and English. The atmosphere feels routine—normal—but there’s a tension in the air, subtle but palpable.

Dua strides into the terminal, her sleek black leather jacket catching the light. She’s carrying a modest backpack, blending seamlessly into the crowd. Her eyes dart around, scanning the scene. She smirks as she notices a group of kids playing near a café, one of them juggling two oranges like a circus act. She approaches the café counter, orders an espresso, and subtly checks her reflection in the glass display. Over the sound of steaming milk, she whispers into a tiny earpiece

“In position. Do you have eyes on the target?”