Three days of intensive preparation had left me feeling like I had been put through a medical blender, reassembled, and then put through it again for good measure. The upgrades to my resistances had been worth it in terms of raw capability, but the process had been so unpleasant that I was already making mental notes to never let Alexis talk me into something like this again.

Going from level 6 to level 10 in both Poison Resistance and Pain Resistance had required increasingly extreme methods as each level demanded more intense exposure to build immunity. The early levels had been manageable, carefully controlled doses of various toxins while monitoring my vital signs, gradually increasing exposure times to different types of pain stimuli under strict medical supervision.

But level 9 to level 10 had been genuinely horrific.

I shuddered slightly as I remembered the final test that had pushed my Poison Resistance to its maximum level. Sitting in what Alexis had clinically described as "a comprehensive toxin immersion bath" for two hours straight, my body processing and adapting to every known poison, venom, and toxic compound she could safely administer simultaneously. The knowledge that I was now essentially immune to all forms of poisoning was intellectually satisfying, but the memory of achieving that immunity made my skin crawl.

The Pain Resistance training had been equally brutal, though thankfully shorter in duration. I preferred not to think too hard about the specifics of what had been required to reach level 10, except to acknowledge that Alexis's clinical detachment had been absolutely essential for getting through it without losing my sanity.

"Never again," I muttered under my breath as I finished packing my travel bag.

"What was that?" Evelyn asked from across my room, where she was double-checking the diplomatic documents we would need for the Brazil mission.

"Nothing important," I said, zipping the bag shut and trying to focus on the positive aspects of the experience. Being immune to poison and having maximum pain resistance would undoubtedly be useful for international missions, even if the process of acquiring those abilities had been memorably unpleasant.

The morning of departure had taken on the familiar rhythm of pre-mission preparation. Each of woman had contributed something essential to ensure I was properly equipped for whatever challenges we might encounter.

Camille had outdone herself with the clothing selection, providing what she described as "climate-adaptive formal wear" that would be appropriate for everything from diplomatic meetings to outdoor environmental assessments. The fabrics were designed to be breathable in high humidity while still maintaining a professional appearance, with hidden features like moisture-wicking and temperature regulation that weren't visible but would be crucial for comfort during extended wear.

"These will keep you looking presentable even if you end up hiking through rainforest for hours," she had explained while showing me the subtle technical features built into what appeared to be standard business attire. "Though hopefully your new Lumberjack skills will prevent that from being necessary."

Sienna had prepared what could only be described as the world's most thoughtfully assembled travel lunch. The containers were designed to maintain optimal temperature and freshness during the flight, with a selection of foods that would provide sustained energy without being too heavy or difficult to digest at altitude. She had even included a handwritten note with reheating instructions and suggestions for staying hydrated during travel.

"I know you'll probably eat airport food anyway," she had said with a smile, "but this will be better for you if you get hungry before the official meals."

Alexis had conducted one final medical assessment, checking that my recent resistance training hadn't caused any unexpected side effects and ensuring I had appropriate medications for travel to a tropical climate. Her medical bag was comprehensive enough to handle everything from minor injuries to major emergencies, packed with the efficiency of someone who had done this many times before.

"Your vital signs are completely stable," she had reported with professional satisfaction. "The resistance improvements have integrated perfectly with your existing enhancements. You're in better physical condition than every human on earth."

The combination of their support and preparation made me feel as ready as I could possibly be for whatever challenges Brazil might present. Having Evelyn and Anthony as my team gave me additional confidence – we had worked well together during the United Nations mission, and their different skill sets complemented my own abilities effectively.

Our chauffeur drove us to the airport with his usual professional efficiency, though I noticed him glancing in the rearview mirror more frequently than normal as we approached the departure terminal.

"Everything alright?" I asked.

"There appears to be more activity than usual at the airport today," he said carefully. "More people, more vehicles. Could be unrelated to your travel, but I thought you should be aware."

I looked out the window as we pulled up to the private terminal where our jet was waiting. He was right – there were significantly more people around than I would have expected for a routine departure from a private aviation facility. Groups of individuals with cameras, what appeared to be news crews setting up equipment, and clusters of people who seemed to be waiting for something specific to happen.

"That's... unusual," Evelyn said, her enhanced hearing probably picking up conversations that I couldn't make out from inside the vehicle. "I don't understand why there would be media presence. Your travel to Brazil wasn't announced publicly."

The crowd was large enough to be concerning from a security perspective, though they appeared to be maintaining distance from the actual aircraft and terminal building. Still, the unexpected attention made me nervous about potential complications.

"Maybe someone leaked information about the mission?" I suggested, though that seemed unlikely given the level of operational security Evelyn typically maintained.

"Possible, but I can't think of anyone who would benefit from that kind of disclosure," she said, frowning in the direction of the gathered people. "Let me make some calls while we're en route to the plane."

We made our way through the terminal quickly, avoiding the main areas where the crowd had gathered while heading directly toward the departure gate. The private aviation staff seemed as confused as we were about the unusual level of activity, though they maintained their professional composure while expediting our boarding process.

Anthony was waiting at the aircraft as planned, looking as composed and prepared as always. His presence was reassuring – having someone with his experience and capabilities as part of the team made most challenges feel manageable.

"Good to see you," he said as we approached. "Ready for another international adventure?"

"As ready as I can be," I said, though I gestured toward the crowd visible in the distance. "Any idea what that's about?"

"I was hoping you could tell me," he said with a slight frown. "They've been gathering for the past hour. No one seems to know why they're here or what they're waiting for."

The three of us stood at the base of the aircraft steps, looking back toward the terminal building where the crowd continued to grow. The situation felt increasingly strange – if someone had leaked information about our mission, I would have expected more direct questions or attempts to approach us. Instead, the crowd seemed to be waiting for something else entirely.

My phone buzzed with an incoming call from Anthony, which was confusing since he was standing right next to me. I looked at him with confusion, only to see him pulling out his own phone with an expression that had shifted from puzzled to concerned.

"Reynard," he said, his voice taking on the tone he used when delivering potentially problematic news. "We have a situation."

"What kind of situation?" I asked, though I was already bracing for bad news.

"Prime Minister MacLeod is here," Anthony said, and the words hit me like a physical blow.

MacLeod. The man who had betrayed our coalition during the United Nations meeting, who had promised support only to publicly oppose our position when it mattered most. The politician whose last-minute reversal had almost cost us several crucial votes and nearly derailed our entire diplomatic strategy.

"Here?" I repeated, trying to process this information. "Here at the airport?"

"Approaching the terminal now," Anthony confirmed, scanning the crowd with renewed wariness. "That explains the media presence. They must have been tipped off that he was coming."

The situation suddenly made much more sense, though it raised a dozen new questions about timing and motivation. MacLeod's presence couldn't be a coincidence – he had to know about our mission to Brazil, which meant either our operational security had been compromised or he had independent intelligence sources that were better than we had realized.

"What does he want?" Evelyn asked, though her tone suggested she already suspected the answer wouldn't be good.

"Unknown," Anthony said. "But given his track record, I doubt he's here to wish us a safe trip."

I felt my skills beginning to activate as my stress levels rose. Psychological Insight was already analyzing potential motivations and strategic implications, while Instinct was providing warnings about possible threats and complications. The combination of MacLeod's betrayal history and his unexpected appearance at our departure created a scenario that my skills unanimously classified as potentially dangerous.

"Options?" I asked, falling back on the tactical thinking that had gotten me through previous crises.

"We could leave immediately," Evelyn suggested. "The aircraft is fueled and ready. We don't have to engage with whatever political theater he's planning."

"Or we could stay and find out what he wants," Anthony said. "Running away might look bad in the media, and we don't know if avoiding him now will just create bigger problems later."

Both options had merit, but both also had significant downsides. Leaving immediately would avoid whatever confrontation MacLeod was planning, but it would also make us look like we were fleeing from legitimate political opposition. Staying to face him would show confidence and transparency, but it risked walking into whatever trap he might have prepared.

"He betrayed us once already," I said, thinking aloud about the strategic implications. "If he's here now, it's because he thinks he can gain something from whatever he's planning to do."

"Agreed," Evelyn said. "The question is whether we can turn whatever he's planning to our advantage, or if we're better off removing ourselves from the situation entirely."

The crowd near the terminal was definitely growing larger, and I could see what appeared to be additional news crews arriving. Whatever MacLeod had planned, it was designed to be a public spectacle with maximum media coverage.

My phone buzzed again with another call from Anthony, and I realized he was getting real-time updates from his security contacts about the developing situation.

"He's brought a full entourage," Anthony reported after ending the brief call. "Staff, security, and what looks like prepared statements for the media. This isn't a chance encounter – it's a coordinated political event."

The implications were becoming clearer and more concerning. MacLeod wasn't here for private diplomatic conversations or quiet political negotiations. He was here for a public confrontation that would be broadcast and analyzed by media outlets around the world.

"Reynard," Evelyn said quietly, her voice carrying the weight of strategic decision-making. "Whatever we decide, we need to decide quickly. Standing here debating options while he approaches is going to look indecisive regardless of what we choose."

She was right. Every moment we spent weighing options was a moment that would be captured by cameras and interpreted as hesitation or uncertainty. In the world of international politics, appearing decisive was often more important than making the perfect decision.

I looked at the aircraft behind us, fueled and ready to take us to Brazil where environmental challenges and diplomatic opportunities were waiting. Then I looked toward the terminal where a man who had already betrayed me once was approaching with cameras and prepared statements, clearly planning some kind of public political theater.

The smart tactical choice was probably to leave immediately, avoiding whatever confrontation he was planning while maintaining our mission schedule and objectives. But something about the situation made me reluctant to run from a fight, especially one where the stakes included international credibility and the success of our environmental mission.

"He's almost at the terminal," Anthony said, monitoring the situation through his communication channels. "Decision time."

I took a deep breath, feeling the weight of leadership and the knowledge that whatever happened in the next few minutes would likely be analyzed and debated in political circles for weeks.

The crowd, the cameras, the approaching confrontation, and the mission to Brazil all combined into a moment where every choice had significant consequences. And Prime Minister MacLeod, the man who had betrayed our coalition when we needed him most, was walking toward us with unknown intentions and maximum media coverage.

This was definitely not how I had planned to start the Brazil mission.

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