20 minutes later - Flight Deck.

The team was now geared up in combat black bdus, dive gear and water-proof bags for additional weapons and equipment. They boarded the transport helo on the deck of which, was an army blackhawk painted all black. The men tossed their black bags into the cargo area in the back and moved up and into their seats. Within seconds of the last man entering, the rotors slowly moved and picked up speed with a thoo thoo thoo thoo.

Across the deck, fighter F-18s landed and took off for flight ops to scan the area for any approaching craft. The pilots were to immediately locate and track any military or civilian aircraft approaching within ten miles and re-direct them out of the area. This was a 24/7 flight operation for Viper squadron.

"Yo Chief, this your bag of gear?" Petty Officer Garner asked as he grabbed the large, black bag.

"Those are supplies and rations, we're not just dropping in and out on this one, we're going to be awhile, least until LT gets orders for us to move to extract outta there," the chief replied.

The team looked to the chief while painting black stripes across their faces. They strapped themselves in and sat side by side in the transport as the airdale outside moved the chocks and crouching, ran around to signal the pilot with batons. The helo slowly lifted as the pilot spoke through his mike, "Roger that Scorpion Two now in route to destination Alpha Zulu, over."

The AirBoss responded and watched from the control tower of the ship as another F-18 lands, its tires screeching with the smell of burnt rubber and fuel following its trail. The wire pulling it to a halt as airmen moved and signaled it immediately out of the way.

The helo of the SEAL Team took flight and angled off towards the island for Operation "Vanish" to locate an entire team of Green Beret that have been missing for now over a week. 

A single red light illuminates the inside of the helo and the men in their seats as they continue to check their gear, moving closer to the LZ.

"TOA in six minutes gentlemen! Prepare for LZ!" lets out the pilot as the other co-pilot looks back and gives a thumbs up. The chief of the team nods back, looking then at his men and speaks over his mike, "Remember again men, NO mikes! No radio! Visual signals ONLY until otherwise authorized, all clear?"

The men nod ok and prepare to depart into the water below as a large, ten man IBS raft drops down.  The men stand up as time ticks and the helo lowers, the signal is given and each of the SEALs exit the transport with arms and legs crossed, fins on their backs, dropping one by one into the ocean and near the IBS. 

A storm brews as a bolt of lightning flashes across the night sky as the moon moves through silver edged clouds. Then thunder and now the heavy downpour as the helo tilts and turns and returns to the carrier. Each of the men climb into the raft as the boat spins with a pull of the motor and jumps waves.

Shadows of one of the most Elite special force units in the world...lay crouched on the raft, as the rubber black boat takes flight over one wave after the next, racing towards the black mass of trees, rocks and cliffs ahead.

The moon's light reflects as the rain buckets down and another flash of lightning splits the sky above them. With a crack of thunder so loud, it vibrates the chest of each man.

A black shark fin surfaces as the boat soars over it, jumping another wave, landing with a splash as the motor spews water behind their wake.

One by one, each man sits up and then falls backwards over the boat edge, holding their masks onto their faces as it moves into shore and as the engine finally is stalled.

The boat coasts in as each man swims to a specific, pre-planned location...within visual range. The heavy downpour makes it more difficult to see each other. They each turn on small dim, red lights to signal with. Their distance apart is pre-planned as they had done this together as a team a hundred times before.

LT moves up to shore as he flips open a communication device and types in a message on his wrist to the ship. "VANISH GREEN - ALL SET, AWAITING ORDERS. NO TARGET."

The ocean washes up a Green Beret cover to shore. LT looks down and picks it up...then looks to the dark island ahead of him. He whispers to himself...

"I got a bad feeling about this."