Washington, D.C. bustled with the urgency of a city that never slept, a place where power, secrets, and deception were the currency of the day. It was here, amid the marble halls and towering buildings, that the conspiracy against Sergeant Ethan Cole was born—a conspiracy that now threatened to consume him whole.
Across the Potomac River, in a nondescript office building that belied its importance, a man sat behind a polished mahogany desk, his fingers steepled as he reviewed the classified report in front of him. His name was General Richard Avery, a decorated veteran with decades of service to his country. But those who knew him best understood that loyalty was a commodity he traded as easily as stocks on Wall Street. And now, as he skimmed the damning accusations against Ethan Cole, a satisfied smile curled his lips.
"Traitor," Avery muttered under his breath, the word tasting bitter but necessary. In the grand game of power and influence, sacrifices had to be made. And Ethan Cole, with his unwavering sense of duty and honor, was the perfect pawn to eliminate.
A knock on the door interrupted his thoughts, and he straightened, slipping the report into a drawer before calling out, "Enter."
The door opened to reveal a tall, lean man in his mid-forties, his face a mask of calm professionalism. Special Agent Marcus Reed of the CIA had been tasked with leading the investigation into the ambush that had claimed the lives of Cole's unit. Officially, at least. Unofficially, Reed's job was to ensure that the narrative spun by the powers that be remained intact—and that Ethan Cole took the fall.
"General," Reed greeted, stepping into the room with the confidence of a man who knew his place in the hierarchy. "I've just received word from our contacts in Southeast Asia. Cole has been spotted in a remote village, but he's managed to evade capture. It's only a matter of time before he tries to make his way back to the States."
Avery nodded, his expression betraying nothing. "And the story? Is the media biting?"
Reed allowed himself a small smile. "It's already out there. The narrative is taking hold—disgruntled soldier, troubled past, snapped under pressure. We've planted enough evidence to make sure the public believes it. By the time he shows his face, they'll see him as nothing more than a dangerous fugitive."
"Good," Avery replied, his tone clipped. "We can't afford any loose ends. Cole needs to be dealt with before he gets anywhere near the truth."
Reed leaned forward slightly, his voice dropping. "You're certain there's no chance he could expose what really happened? We've covered our tracks, but he's resourceful."
"Don't underestimate me, Reed," Avery said, his eyes narrowing. "Everything is under control. Cole was set up from the start, and no one will believe a word he says. He's a soldier, not a politician. He doesn't know how the game is played. And if he does get close, well... we have contingencies."
Reed nodded, understanding the unspoken implication. If Ethan Cole became too much of a threat, he wouldn't make it out of the jungle alive.
"What about the other assets?" Reed asked, changing the subject. "We need to make sure our operations continue without any hiccups."
"They're in place," Avery confirmed. "We'll proceed as planned. Just make sure Cole doesn't disrupt anything. Our benefactors are watching closely, and they expect results."
Reed's eyes flickered with something unreadable, but he simply said, "Understood, General."
As Reed left the office, closing the door quietly behind him, Avery leaned back in his chair, his thoughts returning to the man who had unwittingly become the scapegoat for a much larger operation. Ethan Cole was a threat, yes, but he was also a soldier—trained to follow orders, not to question them. That was his weakness. He would fight for his honor, for his name, but he would never see the bigger picture. He would never understand that he was just a piece on a chessboard, being moved by unseen hands.
And by the time Cole realized the truth, it would be too late.
***
Ethan sat in the cramped interior of a fishing boat, the wooden planks creaking beneath him as the vessel cut through the murky waters of the Mekong River. He had paid a small fortune to the boatman, using the last of his local currency, but it was a price worth paying. The boat was his ticket out of the jungle, out of this nightmare that had consumed him.
He kept his head down, the brim of a borrowed hat shading his face. The boatman hadn't asked any questions, which suited Ethan just fine. In this part of the world, people knew better than to pry into the business of men who looked like they were running from something—or someone.
As the boat drifted along, Ethan's mind raced. He had been careful, avoiding populated areas and staying off the main roads. But he knew that he was running out of time. The village radio transmission had made it clear—he was a wanted man, accused of treason. The government had turned its back on him, branding him a traitor without trial or explanation. And if they were willing to go that far, they wouldn't hesitate to send someone to eliminate him.
He clenched his fists, anger bubbling up inside him. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. He had dedicated his life to serving his country, to protecting his team. And now, he was being hunted like an animal, forced to run from the very people he had sworn to defend.
But he wasn't going to let them win. He had a plan—one that involved getting back to the States, finding the people responsible for this mess, and bringing them to justice. It wouldn't be easy. Hell, it might even be impossible. But Ethan had nothing left to lose.
As the boat approached a small dock, Ethan adjusted the straps of the backpack he had salvaged, the weight of it reassuring against his shoulders. Inside were the few supplies he had managed to gather—a knife, a change of clothes, and a map that would guide him to the nearest city. From there, he would find a way to get back home, where the real fight would begin.
The boatman gestured for Ethan to disembark, his weathered face impassive. Ethan nodded in thanks, slipping a few more bills into the man's hand before stepping onto the dock. The boat pushed off, disappearing into the fog that hung over the river like a shroud.
Ethan took a deep breath, the air heavy with the scent of fish and damp wood. This was it—the first step on a journey that would take him deep into the heart of a conspiracy far darker than he could have ever imagined. He was alone, hunted, and branded a traitor. But he was still a soldier, and soldiers didn't quit.
He began to walk, his eyes scanning the horizon for any signs of danger. He knew they would be coming for him, and he would be ready. The game had changed, and Ethan Cole was about to prove that even a forgotten soldier could be a force to be reckoned with.