The van lurched forward down the deserted road as it cut through the desert landscape, Frank and David sitting in the front.

The night was dark and the stars twinkled overhead like silent witnesses to their mission.

As they weaved through the winding roads, Frank looked to David, his face etched with determination.

"Almost there."

He muttered, more to himself than anything.

They were on their way to see Gunner Henderson, Frank's former squad mate, who they suspected had been behind the filming of their illegal mission in Kandahar.

David, ever the one to lighten the mood (or annoy Frank), suddenly grinned and spoke up.

"So, uh… you think Henderson’s gonna shoot us first or just call us traitors before he shoots us?"

Frank didn’t even look at him.

Just kept his eyes on the road and muttered.

"Shut up."

But David wasn't done yet.

He smirked again before adding,

"Or y'know what? Maybe we should knock first! Manners are important."

Frank rolled his eyes, his jaw grinding together in frustration.

He ignored the rest of David's taunts, focusing on getting to the cabin safely.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, they arrived at a small, isolated cabin.

The lights were on inside, illuminating the surrounding area with a faint yellow glow.

The van came to a stop, and Frank killed the engine.

Frank shot David a sharp look.

"Stay in the car."

David opened his mouth—probably to protest—but one glance at Frank's expression shut him up fast.

He leaned back against the seat with a grumble but didn’t argue further as Frank stepped out into the cold night air, gun holstered but ready for anything.

The porch creaked underfoot as he approached Henderson’s cabin door like this was any other night; no hesitation despite knowing full well what might be waiting inside beyond those rusted hinges.

He took a break, before knocking on the door.