After the incident in Kabul, Gunnery Sergeant Elena Torres (Specter Six) was swiftly deployed to a mission General Steele described as “the most sensitive operation of the year” in an area east of Damascus. The target was a defected Russian scientist holding intelligence capable of shifting the balance of power in the Middle East, and he was cornered by an opposing special forces team in a dilapidated safe house.

This time, she wasn’t part of a large tactical meeting. She was alone in a darkened room at a secret location three miles from the target, communicating only via earpiece with a CIA analyst named Mark.

“Specter Six, the situation has deteriorated. The enemy team is trying to breach the front door. We don’t have time for an air intervention,” Mark said, his voice laced with anxiety. “You need to get in and get him out. There’s an old storm drain in the basement—that’s your only chance.”

Elena, lying prone on the cold concrete floor, was meticulously assembling her disassembled sniper rifle. She didn’t respond immediately. She spent fifteen seconds just listening to the wind through the earpiece and the beat of her own heart.

“Mark,” she finally spoke, her voice low and even. “If they breach the main door, they won’t go down to the basement. They’ll take him to the roof to await a chopper. It’s easier. You’ve forgotten the basic rule.”

Mark fell silent. “What rule, Six?”

“The rule of panic,” she replied. “They want their target out as fast as possible. The front door is the bait. They’ve created a noisy scenario.”

“So… you won’t use the tunnel?” Mark asked.

“No,” Elena stated firmly. “The front door is bait… for anyone looking at your map. But what’s more relevant to that house than a storm drain?”

She paused. “That house used to be a print shop. It must have an old furnace or a brick chimney stack. That’s their biggest blind spot, and the quickest route to the roof.”

Elena finished assembling her rifle. “Give me the wind parameters at the northwest angle. I’ll take the vertical path.”

While the opposing special forces team continued to fire uselessly at the front door in a futile display, Specter Six had climbed onto the roof of an abandoned factory opposite the target. Her rifle was locked. She wasn’t aiming at the noisy door. She aimed at the top of the old brick chimney stack.

Just minutes later, as the sound of an enemy helicopter began to roar overhead, a figure from the second-floor window of the safe house tried to climb onto the roof to extract the scientist.

Thwump.

There was no loud gunshot. Only the impact of the round slicing through the air. The operative on the roof slumped, unconscious but alive—exactly as Elena had intended.

Moments later, a green laser beam appeared on the safe house roof, sweeping across. It was Elena’s signal to her extraction team: Target secured, gate opened.

In the CIA operations center, Mark stared at the monitor, where the target had safely escaped via the rooftop path. He whispered, “The rule of panic. She’s a master of psychological warfare.”

Following the mission, Elena Torres sent a report consisting of just two sentences: “Target secured. Egress guaranteed via the path of least resistance.”

She had saved the world once again, with precision and intellect, while others were still busy searching for the exit in the basement. That was Specter Six: always finding the least-known path.