Hours after the skyscraper had collapsed, the perimeter has been reset and the excitement calmed down. The storm of dust had subsided, the sun itself now starting to approach the horizon. At the Forward Operating Base, Foxtrot lays on one of the stretchers; attached to him are several instruments reading his vitals. His eyes blink open, the blinding light causing him to cringe as he wakes up. "Uh, what the...?" The agent sits up, noting the medics on stand by. One of them approaches him and begins to remove the attachments. "So, any serious injuries doc?" The medic simply looks to him and shakes her head; although there wasn't anything serious, he sure felt sore as anything. Getting up, he grabs his jacket and gear, despite it all appearing battered. Slowly but surely, Foxtrot makes his way out of the large tent, examining the destruction in silence until he notices the boat sitting in the bay. It's crimson sails, familiar hunters, and cages holding the Directors provide relief that his mission was complete. He hasn't seen his companions yet,  and looks around to find them to ensure that they're ok.