"Sir," SkyHawk's calm voice interrupted Ethan's thoughts, "we are approaching Venezuela."
Ethan glanced at the holographic display, the South American nation appearing as a vibrant tapestry of green jungles, towering mountains, and sprawling coastlines.
"Excellent," he said. "Begin our descent, SkyHawk. And maintain maximum camouflage."
"Acknowledged, Sir," SkyHawk responded. "Initiating descent towards the designated coordinates. Cloaking remains at maximum setting."
The SkyHawk descended silently, gliding through the night sky like a phantom. Ethan watched as the landscape grew larger, the rugged peaks of the Andes Mountains and the dense Amazon rainforest emerging from the darkness. They approached a remote region in the southern part of the country, its vast plains and isolated villages promising refuge.
They landed on a secluded plateau, its grassy expanse undisturbed by human activity. The only sound was the whisper of the wind through the tall grasses and the distant calls of nocturnal animals.
Once on the ground, Ethan turned to Iris, her holographic eye glowing softly in the dim light of the cabin. "Iris," he said, "we need to establish a temporary base of operations here in Venezuela. I need you to scan the entire country and identify suitable locations."
"As you wish, Sir," Iris replied, her voice a calm and reassuring presence in the quiet cabin.
Within moments, Iris had infiltrated the country's digital infrastructure, her presence a whisper in the network, undetectable to any conventional security measures. "I have completed the scan, Sir," she reported. "Several rental properties meet your criteria for a temporary safe house: secluded, off-grid, with minimal risk of detection."
A holographic map of Venezuela materialized before Ethan, highlighting several potential locations. He studied the options, considering factors like accessibility, proximity to amenities, and the level of privacy offered. He finally settled on a small, isolated farmhouse nestled in a remote valley in the Andes Mountains.
"This looks promising," he said, zooming in on the holographic image. "It's isolated, surrounded by rugged terrain, and has a barely-used access road. Perfect for maintaining a low profile."
"Excellent choice, Sir," Iris confirmed. "I will access the property management system and arrange a long-term rental agreement under an assumed identity. I will also ensure that all communication and financial transactions are conducted through secure and anonymous channels."
"While you're at it, Iris," Ethan continued, "I need a new identity. Something that will allow me to blend in here and operate without drawing attention."
"Of course, Sir," Iris replied. "I have already accessed the Venezuelan government servers and identified a suitable identity for you. A low-profile individual with a clean record, recently deceased under circumstances that leave no reason for further investigation. I will fabricate the necessary documents and integrate them into the system, ensuring your seamless transition into your new persona."
Ethan nodded, impressed by Iris's efficiency. "Excellent work, Iris. Now, about the bigger picture..."
"Sir," Iris interrupted, her voice taking on a more serious tone, "I have intercepted some concerning intelligence. The Russian government has submitted a formal request to Interpol to have you designated as a terrorist. They are accusing you of orchestrating the Kresty prison break and causing significant damage to their national security."
Ethan's expression hardened. "They're really pulling out all the stops, aren't they?"
"It appears so, Sir," Iris confirmed. "This could have serious implications for your freedom and your ability to operate internationally."
"We need to act quickly," Ethan said, his mind already racing. "We need to discredit their accusations and make them back down."
"I concur, Sir," Iris replied. "I recommend launching a counter-intelligence campaign to expose their motives and undermine their credibility. We can also target their assets and operations, making them realize that pursuing you is not worth the cost."
"Do it, Iris," Ethan said, his voice firm. "But be discreet. I don't want to escalate the situation unnecessarily. Make sure they understand that this is a direct response to their actions, a warning to back off."
"As you wish, Sir," Iris replied.
*****
The opulent conference room in the Kremlin buzzed with tension. High-ranking officials from the FSB, Spetsnaz, the military, and the Foreign Ministry sat around a polished mahogany table, their faces grim, their postures rigid. President Petrov, his expression a mask of icy fury, sat at the head of the table, his gaze sweeping across the assembled group.
"I trust you have something to report," he said, his voice a low growl that echoed through the room. "Something more substantial than the last briefing."
General Aleksei Nikolaev, the head of the FSB, cleared his throat. "Mr. President, we have intensified our efforts to locate Ethan Reid and his accomplice. Our agents are scouring Kazakhstan, following every lead, every whisper. We are also collaborating with our allies in the region to expand the search."
Colonel Dmitri Ivanov, the Spetsnaz commander, added, "We have deployed our elite tracking units, Mr. President. They are experts in wilderness survival and pursuit. Reid and Volkov cannot hide from them forever."
Admiral Sergei Kuznetsov, the Navy Chief of Staff, chimed in, "We have increased naval patrols in the Caspian Sea and the surrounding waters, Mr. President. We are monitoring all shipping lanes and coastal areas, leaving no avenue for escape."
Foreign Minister Andrei Kovalev concluded, "We are also applying diplomatic pressure, Mr. President. We have issued a formal request to Interpol to designate Reid as a terrorist. This will limit his movement and force other countries to cooperate in his apprehension."
President Petrov nodded, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. "Good. Leave no stone unturned. I want Reid captured and brought back to Russia. He will pay for his crimes against our nation."
Just then, a cacophony of ringtones erupted, shattering the tense silence. Each official scrambled for their phones, their faces paling as they listened to the urgent reports flooding in.
General Nikolaev's face turned ashen. "Mr. President," he stammered, "we have a situation. A major cyberattack has crippled our intelligence network. Our databases are compromised, our communication channels are down, and..." his voice trailed off, "and several of our top agents are at risk of being exposed."
Colonel Ivanov's expression mirrored the General's shock. "Mr. President, our weapons depot in Siberia has been infiltrated. Several experimental weapons prototypes are missing, and..." he hesitated, "and there have been... casualties."
Admiral Kuznetsov's voice was barely a whisper. "Mr. President, a rogue signal has disabled our naval fleet's navigation systems. Several vessels have collided, and we have lost contact with a nuclear submarine patrolling the Arctic."
Foreign Minister Kovalev's face was pale with disbelief. "Mr. President, our diplomatic channels have been compromised. Sensitive communications have been leaked to the press, and... and our ambassador to the United Nations has been implicated in a... a scandal involving illicit funds and..." he choked on the words, "and underage girls."
A stunned silence filled the room. President Petrov, his face contorted with rage, slammed his fist on the table. "What is the meaning of this?" he roared. "Who is responsible for this chaos?"
The officials exchanged panicked glances. They had never witnessed such a coordinated and devastating attack on their institutions. It was a clear message, a bold demonstration of power.
"It's Reid, Mr. President," General Nikolaev said, his voice trembling. "He's behind this. It's a retaliatory warning for our attempt to label him a terrorist and have him extradited."
"But how?" President Petrov demanded. "He's a fugitive, alone and on the run. He couldn't possibly orchestrate such an attack."
"He has help, Mr. President," Colonel Ivanov interjected. "Someone with significant resources and technological capabilities."
The room fell silent again, the weight of the unknown pressing down on them. Who was aiding Ethan Reid? What were their motives? And how could they possess such power to cripple the Russian intelligence apparatus?
President Petrov, his face etched with a mix of fury and fear, sank back in his chair. He had underestimated Ethan Reid, dismissed him as a mere nuisance. But now, he realized that he was facing a formidable enemy.
*****
Ethan, perched on a rocky outcrop overlooking a vast Venezuelan plain, felt the warm breeze ruffle his hair. The vibrant green of the grasslands, the distant silhouette of the Andes Mountains, and the cries of exotic birds created a sense of vastness and freedom, a stark contrast to the icy grip of the Siberian wilderness.
"Sir," Iris's voice echoed in his mind, interrupting his contemplation, "I have an update on the situation with the Russian government."
Ethan's expression hardened. "What is it, Iris?"
"They have withdrawn their application to Interpol," she reported, her holographic eye gleaming with a hint of satisfaction. "It seems our countermeasures were effective."
Ethan smirked. "Good. They're finally starting to understand that I'm not someone they can easily manipulate."
"However, Sir," Iris continued, "they are still actively trying to trace the cyberattacks back to you. They have also attempted to establish contact, likely for negotiation or to gather intelligence."
Ethan's brow furrowed. "Negotiation? They think they can just sweep this under the rug with a few empty promises?"
"It's a possibility, Sir," Iris said. "Or they may be trying to assess your capabilities and identify your allies."
"What do you think their next move will be, Iris?" Ethan asked, curious about her assessment. "If they realize the extent of our infiltration, how will they react?"
"Based on my analysis of their protocols and past behavior, Sir," Iris replied, "they will likely prioritize damage control and attempt to regain control of their compromised systems. They may also launch a full-scale investigation to identify and neutralize the source of the breaches."
"And if they discover they can't regain control?" Ethan pressed.
"In that scenario, Sir, they may resort to a complete overhaul of their systems, wiping their servers and rebuilding their infrastructure from scratch," Iris predicted.
"Interesting," Ethan mused. "If they do that, can you still maintain access?"
"I can attempt to infiltrate their new systems discreetly, Sir," Iris assured him. "But it will be more challenging. They will undoubtedly enhance their security measures."
"Do what you can, Iris," Ethan instructed. "I want to keep an eye on them. And Iris..."
"Sir?"
"Were there any... casualties during our counteroffensive?" Ethan asked, a hint of concern in his voice.
"No, Sir," Iris replied. "I took precautions to avoid any loss of life. The disruptions were primarily targeted at their infrastructure and intelligence capabilities."
Ethan nodded, relieved. He had no desire to kill any more than he was forced to, even if his enemies were ruthless and determined. He believed in justice, not vengeance.
He then stored the SkyHawk into his inventory before deciding to utilize the old Range Rover. "Let's see how this old girl handles the Venezuelan terrain," he muttered to himself as he summoned the Range Rover.
The vehicle materialized beside him, its faded paint and dented panels a testament to its age and rugged history. Ethan grinned, a wave of nostalgia washing over him. This car had been a faithful companion during his escape, and he felt a strange fondness for its sturdy reliability.
Before setting off, he removed the license plates and instructed Iris to generate new ones.
"Iris, I need you to access the vehicle registration database and find a suitable set of plates for the Range Rover. Something untraceable, belonging to a vehicle that's no longer in use."
"With pleasure, Sir," Iris replied. Within seconds, she had identified a set of plates belonging to a vintage car that had been reported destroyed in a gruesome road accident a few years prior. "These plates will suit our purposes, Sir. They are no longer actively monitored, and their association with a destroyed vehicle will minimize any potential for tracing."
Ethan nodded. "Excellent work, Iris. Register the Range Rover under those plates."
As Iris updated the vehicle registration database, Ethan scribbled the new registration number on a scrap of paper and stuck it to the Range Rover's windshield. He climbed into the driver's seat, the familiar scent of worn leather and engine oil filling his senses. He turned the key, the engine roaring to life with a satisfying rumble.
He set off, following the directions provided by Iris, navigating the winding dirt roads that led towards the secluded farmhouse. The vast plains stretched out before him, dotted with cacti and scrubland, the air filled with the scent of dry earth and distant rain. He felt a sense of freedom and anticipation, a new chapter unfolding before him.