Carlos was finishing the last steps of his latest assignment when a man suddenly stepped out beside him as if he had been there the entire time.

Carlos barely reacted.

By now, he was used to people from the organization appearing without warning.

The man was Hispanic, broad-shouldered, and slightly gruff-looking, with short black hair cropped close to his head. Carlos had seen him a few times before during briefings and transfers. He carried himself with the loose confidence of someone who had been doing this for a long time. Even when he spoke, there was always the faint hint of amusement tugging at one corner of his mouth, like he knew something everyone else was still catching up to.

“So,” the man said casually, “you ready for RED at 3?”

Carlos froze.

A cold weight dropped straight into his stomach.

“RED at 3?”

The man’s expression shifted immediately.

“You didn’t get the memo?”

Carlos stared at him.

For half a second his mind went completely blank.

Then panic hit all at once.

“Shit. Shit, shit, shit.”

He looked around instinctively, as if checking the time would somehow help.

“I never got anything. Nobody told me.” He looked back at the man, suddenly overwhelmed. “How am I supposed to make it there in time?”

The operative just watched him for a moment, the faint smile disappearing from his face as he realized Carlos was serious.