Gunfire, the shouts of men, vehicles ran off the road, ear splitting screeches of metal-on-metal that now lay as nothing more than scraps littering the tarmac; it all still. All that was left was the sound of dancing flames

Arash Kadivar was dead. That was enough.The evidence of the attack, the smoke stinging his nose, the warmth of the fire engulfing the wreckage, it was an extra pat on the back.

Adler's boots crunched against the tarmac's gravel, wet with rain, eyes stretching out with the length of asphalt. Arash had been neutralized, and the intel they'd managed to squeeze out of him was better than they could’ve hoped. Still, Adler would never give up the opportunity to garner some more information out of the rest of the lackeys. But, it seemed he and Mason had hardly anyone left in their wake.

He'd reached the end of the Tarmac, the smoke has thinned this far up, but its stench of bodies and fuel still linger. His eyes reach a lone truck, parked just a few yards from a few other deserted vehicles not worth his attention.

The corpses that lay in the seats weren't his own. No, this handiwork was all Arash's, bastard pulled a gun on the poor sons of bitches before Adler's team could get PID on Arash. Insubordination, questioning, jealousy whatever the reason, both driver and passenger were dead.

And it was that thought that led to further disappointment as a sharp huff escaped Adler's mouth. Yet, as he nears the truck, he manages to catch just the slightest twitch from the backseat. So slight he could've sworn it was nothing, but he'd be dead by now if he hadn't learned to be thorough.

His feet move as if entirely on autopilot, quickly nearing the truck's backdoor, and with a click it swings open.

When Adler's met with the fleeting, cloudy gaze of a woman, green knit balaclava covering her face, a bloody dossier in her lap, all he can manage to care about is the fact that the woman’s still blinking.

"Over here," his voice calls out through the smoke. "We've got a live one.”