The evening sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows over the city streets. Jack had spent most of the day keeping a low profile, his running routine carefully plotted to avoid areas with heavy foot traffic or prying eyes. It wasn't paranoia—just a habit born from months of living under the radar.
He had been instructed to stay out of sight, to blend in with the crowds if he had to, but never to linger in one place for too long. Even now, as he approached the outskirts of town, he made sure to vary his route. He moved with purpose, always aware of his surroundings. An abandoned factory loomed ahead, its cracked windows and rusted exterior standing like a relic from a forgotten time. He checked his watch—5:45 p.m. He was early, but that was intentional. It gave him time to scout the area, to be sure he wasn't being followed.
Jack slipped inside the factory through a side door, careful to avoid the broken glass scattered across the ground. The air inside was stale, and the faint sound of dripping water echoed from somewhere in the dark. He found a spot near an old assembly line, staying close to the shadows. His pulse quickened slightly, not from fear, but from anticipation. After all, meetings like this never came with guarantees.
Fifteen minutes passed, then an SUV pulled up outside. Jack watched as the vehicle's headlights swept across the factory floor, casting brief flashes of light on the rusted machinery. He stayed put, waiting for the driver to signal. The car honked twice—a code he recognized. He slipped out from his hiding place and made his way to the SUV, pulling open the back door and sliding inside. The vehicle started moving almost immediately, driving in a parallel direction away from the factory.
"Good to see you, Jack," Colonel Zacharai greeted him from the passenger seat, his voice carrying a tone of familiarity and something else—determination, maybe.
Jack nodded in response. "Colonel," he replied, glancing at the driver, who kept his eyes on the road.
"you look different boy" zacharai took a sharp scrutiny of him "you look more civilian now" he teased
Jack smiled "I am sure a little diception doesn't kill the vibe mean while you said blend in" he replied in the same joking tune
Zacharai smiled and gave a node "sure the new look fits perfectly expecially the beards".
Returning back to a serious disposition without wasting time, Zacharai reached into a bag at his feet and pulled out a small bundle wrapped in brown paper. He passed it to Jack, who unwrapped it to reveal a police badge, an ID card, a standard-issue handgun, and an official-looking envelope. The name on the badge read "Jack Jones."
"Jack Jones?" Jack arched an eyebrow, a faint smile touching his lips. "Really?"
The colonel turned to face him, his expression serious but with a hint of amusement. "Got a better idea?"
Jack's smile widened as he held up the ID card. "No, it works. Perfect, actually." The alias was ordinary enough to avoid attention but close enough to his real name to feel natural. It was almost like slipping into a new skin, one that wasn't too different from his own.
Zacharai nodded approvingly and gestured toward the envelope. "Inside is your transfer letter. Officially, you're a detective transferred from Oduva. The letter states that you've been reassigned to this city for a special investigation due to your 'expertise.' you would be working on the abducted villagers case, It'll give you the authority to move around without drawing too much attention, and no one will bother questioning the transfer. They'll just see the paperwork and assume it's all legitimate."
"Oduva?" Jack raised an eyebrow, a bit of surprise in his voice. "Never been there. Couldn't you have picked somewhere closer?"
"Exactly," the colonel said, a slight grin forming. "The distance adds credibility. Anyone who tries to verify the details will find everything in order, but it's far enough away that no one will dig too deeply."
Jack tucked the badge, ID, and envelope into his jacket. The plan was thorough, he had to admit. It was a well-crafted cover that would help him move through official channels smoothly while keeping a low profile. "And the gun?" he asked, glancing at the standard-issue handgun.
"Only if you need it," the colonel replied. "Remember, this isn't about making noise. It's about finding out who sold out your team, and who's really pulling the strings."
The vehicle continued to move through the empty streets, the city lights flashing by outside the tinted windows. Jack's mind was already racing ahead, considering all the possible scenarios he might face. He was ready for the investigation to begin—after all, he had been waiting for this moment for what felt like an eternity. This wasn't just a mission. For him, it was personal.
The SUV finally slowed to a stop a few blocks away from where he had been picked up. "We'll be in touch," Zacharai said as Jack opened the door to step out.
"Understood," Jack replied, closing the door behind him. The SUV pulled away, disappearing into the night.
As he walked back to his temporary hideout, Jack's grip tightened around the envelope in his pocket. "Jack Jones," he murmured to himself. It felt strange, this new identity, but at the same time, it fit like a well-worn glove. If this was what it took to uncover the truth and get his vengeance, then he would become whoever he needed to be.
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