7:33 pm March 8th
The Rookery felt less like a sophisticated espionage hub and more like a drafty castle to Raven, The Scottish Highlands wind howled outside, rattling the ancient windowpanes as he stood stiffly in the Briefing room. The room was spartan, dominated by a large mahogany desk cluttered with maps and files. Commander Ainsworth, a man whose presence exuded quiet authority, sat on a chair, his gaze piercing. "Captain Jensen," Ainsworth began, his voice a low rumble, "welcome to Project Nightingale. I trust your journey was...uneventful?" Raven merely nodded, the unspoken weight of the mission already settling on his shoulders. "We have a situation brewing, one that requires a team with your, shall we say, unique skill set. The others will arrive shortly, and then, Captain, we begin."
Ainsworth leaned back in his chair, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Your reputation precedes you, Jensen. Laos wasn't your fault. War is a dirty business, and good men die. Don't let their sacrifices be in vain." He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. "Nightingale doesn't offer redemption, Captain. It offers a chance to make a difference, however small, in this global chess game we're playing. Your mission, and the missions to come, will be morally ambiguous, often brutal. Are you prepared to walk that path, knowing that the cost of failure could be the world as we know it?" Raven met his gaze, his own eyes reflecting a steely resolve. "I am, sir. Tell me what you need me to do."
