Three hours later

Sledge reclined back as far as his seat would allow, which wasn't much on the airplane. At least no one was behind him that would bitch about the lack of leg room. In fact, most seats on this flight were empty, much to Sledge's surprise and enjoyment.

His flight had been delayed slightly due to some weather in Birmingham. Nothing he could control, but Rainbow already had it taken care of. Sledge had received a call from Cynthia, the Rainbow travel coordinator, informing him that a chopper would be picking him up at the Birmingham airport. She would call again when he landed to update him on the situation. Sledge had thanked her and ended the call.

Cynthia was great; she knew her job almost too well. But the operators really appreciated her. She had vowed not to date the operators, so she wouldn't get too attached to any of them, and was currently dating some civilian guy that she was happy with. It seemed that every time Sledge tried to start a relationship, something always happened that prevented it from becoming even an idea in his mind.

Sledge shook his head in an attempt to clear his mind. He didn't need to be thinking about this now. He pulled off his seatbelt and laid back in his seat as the plane reached cruising altitude. Sledge had always felt peaceful while flying; it felt like home. He wasn't oblivious to the dangers of flying, but he had no reason to be concerned about them either. After all, nobody on the flight knew who he was. He hadn't changed since the base, so he looked like a relaxed traveler. Nothing about his stood out, aside from his larger stature.

Sledge stood at six feet and four inches with two hundred and ten pounds of muscle attached. He wasn't small by any means, but he also didn't stand out. Sledge knew a long flight was ahead, and he decided to catch some sleep while he could. Who knew what Six had in store for him back at base. Sledge closed his eyes and tried to sleep.

But something didn't feel right. He wasn't sure what it was, but something was off. Playing through possible scenarios in his head, Sledge wasn't sure what was causing his heightened fight-or-flight response. Or how to ease it. He decided to visually scan the passengers aboard again.

"Maybe that will help."

Sledge stood and acted like he was making his way to the restroom, briefly scanning people as he went. Mother and her two kids, middle-aged businessman, three hispanic women softly laughing among themselves, man sleeping, woman on the phone. There were several others, none of which set off any red flags in Sledge's mind. He reached the restroom, entered and closed the door. He cupped his hands underneath the sink faucet, and splashed the water that filled his hands onto his face.

It didn't help. Sledge was still nervous about…something. Sledge shook his head, lightly coating the mirror in small water droplets. He gripped the sink, staring at himself in the mirror for a few seconds. His hazel eyes stared back, his shaved head gleaming underneath the light; the scars on his face were more noticeable under the direct light. The most noticeable ran from underneath his right eyes across the bridge of his nose before diving down his face and ending just past the corner of his mouth. Another scar, less noticeable but just as large, ran from his left ear near the jawline, crossing over his left eye, and ending about his above his right eyebrow.

Sledge's eyes drifted toward his collarbone, barely visible above the shirt, where the beginning of another scar started. He didn't like to think about his scars in general but that one in particular hurt to remember. He blinked, breaking whatever connected he had established, and shuddered slightly as he looked back into the mirror. He reached up and touched his collarbone scar. It didn't hurt anymore, it hadn't for years, but he still felt the pain as if it had just occurred. He reached his hand behind his neck and held it there temporarily before dropping it to his side. Sledge opened the door and stepped his large frame out of the doorframe. His extra broad shoulders required he turned sideways to leave the restroom, and he closed the door behind him, walking back to his seat. Sledge settled back into his seat before closing his eyes, the unnerving feeling still present but reduced. His mind wandered to other things, and he fell sleep.

The bullet whizzed by Sledge's head, striking Clutch in the leg. Clutch, thankfully, fell behind his cover and yelped in pain. Sledge yelled out, moving backward to Clutch's cover, beside his brother-in-arms. Blood oozed from the wound and Clutch held on to his leg. It wasn't bad, but it was painful for Clutch.

"I've severely underestimated the amount of pain that would come with this." Clutch said through grit teeth. Sledge wanted to chuckle, but now was not the time. He would acknowledge Clutch's sarcasm later.

"Don't worry, bud. It'll be alright." Sledge grabbed his radio. "Sierra to Delta, I have Charlie with a weapon injury." Sledge listened for Doc's response.

"Copy Sierra. Do what you can until I can get there. It's going to be a minute or so." Sledge turned to Clutch, who stared back at Sledge, piercing him with his questioning brown eyes. "Don't worry, Doc will be here soon. Until then, we just have to…"

Sledge was cut off as a bullet ricocheted of a nearby rock, ringing out and sending the bullet flying off in another direction. This was getting ridiculous, and Sledge was fed up with the mission.

It was bullshit in his opinion. A clubhouse had been raided by some terrorists threatening to release a biological weapon if their demands were not met. So far, Sledge and his team had neutralized over fifteen enemies. Sledge was getting tired of them just showing up out of nowhere, and was ready to end all of them in one fell swoop. But they had not been authorized to use those weapons in a long time, and Sledge doubted this would be the time they would be authorized. He looked back to Clutch, still staring at him. Sledge simply patted his non-injured leg and gave his friend a sympathetic look.

The sound of footsteps to his left caught his attention.

Sledge jolted awake as the plane shook rather violently.

"Must be turbulence," he muttered to himself, closing his eyes again. Sledge heard some footsteps approach, then stop near his seat. He thought nothing of it; must be another passenger.

Whoever it was cleared their throat, attempting to get Sledge's attention. Sledge grunted in return.

They cleared their throat again, more pronounced this time. Sledge muttered, quietly yet loud enough for them to hear.

"Go away."

The individual chuckled.

"Oh, Sledge. You clearly don't know who I am." They chuckled. Sledge cracked an eye open, unsettled that they had referred to him as his operator name. There stood an individual, dressed in a light blue shirt with a black tie, dark brown slacks, and brown shoes.

Sledge stared straight ahead, remembering training. This could turn into something more dangerous, and Sledge didn't want that to happen under any circumstances. He had to do something, and it had to be quick.