Mac scoffed, but the mention of a civilian target pulled at the instinct he couldn't quite suppress. "You have a whole team, James. Call Jack. Call Riley."
Mac didn't move. He grabbed a plastic bottle and began mixing ammonia with iodine. "You never did understand the difference between an order and a choice, Dad."
"They're already on the ground, but they're pinned down. If you don't come, they don't make it out." [S3E1] Improvise
Armed mercenaries were closing in. Mac looked around the derelict space. No weapons. No backup. Just a pile of discarded chemical drums, some copper wiring, and a handful of cleaning supplies.
With James free, they scrambled toward the back exit. Mac rigged a pressurized steam pipe to blow, creating a curtain of scalding fog that masked their escape. Mac scoffed, but the mention of a civilian
Mac sat on the rusted porch in Nigeria, the humid air thick with the scent of rain and earth. For three months, he had traded high-stakes espionage for the rhythmic work of a mechanic, fixing irrigation pumps and old tractors. He didn’t miss the explosions or the secrets. Most of all, he didn’t miss the shadow of the man who had lied to him for decades.
The sound of a luxury SUV crunching over the gravel broke his peace. Out stepped James MacGyver, looking every bit the cold, calculated director of the Phoenix Foundation. Call Riley
James didn't waste time with pleasantries. He handed Mac a tablet showing a secure facility in the desert. "A group known as the 'Company' has stolen a high-yield explosive. They’re planning to use it on a civilian target in Lagos. I’m going in, but I need the best technician I know."