Today is the most "I'm fucked up" situation of all the fucked up situations I've ever been at.

  "Fuck"

  I'm breathing heavily while putting pressure on my chest. Thankfully my heart was not hit by the enemy but that idea did not help at all.

  "Damn it I'm the only one left."

  "It seems like we've been sold." I scoffed.

  I look at my team who are now lying dead on the ground.

  "Luis, it seems like your son will have to spend his first birthday without his father."

  "Mark you really did beat your grandmother. You're gone before her." I joked as I remember what he said before.

  'Captain, it would be really funny if I die before my grandmother.'

  'How old is she?'

  'She's already 100 captain.'

  'Want to bet on it captain?'

  'Silly kid. You don't bet on your life like that easily. Better to bet that you will make it out alive until you are discharged.'

  I move my eyes to the left. "Raphael don't worry I will take care of your pet dogs."

  And lastly, I stared with sorry eyes of our youngest's dead body. He was only 20.

  "Sam, I know you really looked forward to today. Happy birthday again."

  I rested enough I think payback is overdue. I will fuck up those insolent jungle gunmen and make them regret their stupid ass decision. And after I'm done with this, your head will be the one to roll next, General Benjamin Locke.

  After I took care of the wound on my chest with some pain reliever and bandages, I arm myself and standing in front of the door I look back one last time on my dead comrades who I laid next to each other.

  I reach for my left pocket on my black cargo pants where I put their dog tags.

  "Let's go on one final mission boys."

  "We will fuck up their mother fucking ass."

  When I got here I shut down their electricity.

  "Darkness is on my side you shitheads."

  The enemy is in uproar. I bet they are.

  "Ambush! Hey call reinforce—" Shout one enemy.

  Slash

  I slashed his neck and I move onto the one he spoke with.

  Stab

  I massacred everybody in the room they were all in. I'm now covered in blood but my blood is boiling and this is nothing.

  I ran, slashed and stabbed vital points. I killed every one I see approaching and even the ones who were cowering in fear hiding and begging me to spare their lives.

  I don't want to waste any time on this place. I will burn this place down.

  Once the fire got big, a few enemies starts coming out of a building and I shot the enemies with a sniper gun. Scanning the place with thermal vision,there is no one left.

  I'm coming for you Benjamin Locke you dick eating fuck.

  Knowing the General, he probably wiped us out using those mercenaries because doing so will be untraceable. That snake bitch. I don't understand why he would kill us.

  Is it because I punched his son in the guts for insulting one of my team? That not must be it. Even though he might look like a loving father and husband to the public, he doesn't care about his family in reality. He even issued an assassination for his first wife when he caught her overhearing his call with someone to kill his friend politician for opposing his plans.

  Then why?

  No matter how hard I think about it, I cannot find another reason. All of our mission was for the overall good of the nation.

  Unless... it's 'that' time.

  That mission was suspicious to begin with and I even thought about disobeying orders but as a soldier, we are trained not to disobey our seniors.

  I was planning on uncovering the truth at that time but we received missions after mission and got barely any breaks.

  I open the door with my lock picking skills. I sneak inside the house then I close the door without a sound and let the darkness swallow me.

  No alarms. Of course not. The General might not look like it but he is more dangerous than he looks. No person would dare rob this place or crazy enough to kill him. Unless that crazy person is me

  I move barefoot across the marble floor, every step measured, breathing slow. The layout matches the recon photos. Office to the left. Living room ahead. Stairs to the second floor.

  Bedroom.

  I take the stairs two at a time, careful not to rush. The hallway upstairs is dim, lit by a single night lamp at the far end. I pass framed medals and photos—Benjamin shaking hands with politicians, smiling beside flags, standing over soldiers he never bled with.

  I stop at the bedroom door.

  Unlocked.

  I push it open just enough to slip through.

  He's there.

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  General Benjamin Locke. Alone. No guards. No wife. No witnesses.

  He's sprawled in a king-sized bed, mouth close, chest rising and falling in a slow, stupid rhythm. The man who erased my team with a signature and a whisper.

  For a moment, I just watch him sleep.

  Then I step forward.

  The knife slides out smoothly, familiar weight in my hand. I press it against his neck, right where the pulse beats strongest. Just enough pressure to let him feel the promise of it.

  "Wake up you son of a bitch."

  His eyes open instantly.

  Not panicked.

  Focused.

  A slow smile creeps to his lips as he feels the blade.

  "So," Benjamin says calmly, voice low and amused, "you finally learned patience."

  I don't raise my voice. I don't need to.

  "You erased my team."

  "They were liabilities." His eyes flick to mine. Sharp. Assessing. "Just like you became."

  He moves.

  Fast.

  He twists his neck just enough to break the line of the blade and drives his elbow back into my ribs. I stagger, but my body reacts before my thoughts do. I pivot, grab his wrist, counter with a knee.

  He blocks.

  Of course he does.

  Benjamin rolls off the bed and comes up fighting, stance perfect, weight balanced. No hesitation. No fear.

  I might've forgotten who he is.

  "You hesitate," he says as he throws a punch. "That's new."

  I parry, step inside his guard, and hit him in the throat—not full force. A lesson.

  "You taught me," I reply evenly. "Control before cruelty."

  He grins even as he coughs. "I taught you to survive."

  We clash again—fist to fist, elbow to bone. He's strong. Smarter than I remembered. He feints, drags me down, tries to disarm me with a wrist lock I recognize immediately.

  His own move.

  I reverse it.

  His eyes flash with something like pride.

  "Good," he breathes. "You finally surpassed the dog phase."

  "You killed them," I say, calm as ice. "For covering your corruption."

  He laughs, sharp and bitter. "They would've exposed me. The country needs men like me, Ethan. Men willing to get their hands dirty."

  "You hid behind mercenaries."

  "A general doesn't pull the trigger," he snaps. "He decides who deserves it."

  He slams his head into mine and we both stagger. Blood drips into my eye. He reaches for a hidden blade under the mattress.

  I'm faster.

  The knife sinks into his shoulder.

  He snarls, grabs my arm, and we crash into the dresser. Pain flares. He headbutts me again and for a second—just a second—I see the man who stood behind me on my first kill and said Don't look away.

  "You were my best student," he says quietly, voice rough now. "You could've been more than this."

  I press the knife to his throat again.

  "You made me this."

  His breath stutters. The fight drains out of him, replaced by something human. Regret. Or maybe just exhaustion.

  "I never wanted it to end like this," Benjamin says softly. "You were... the closest thing I had to a legacy."

  I didn't answer.

  ?

  Afterward, the house feels hollow.

  I clean the blade. Then I work.

  Benjamin always hid his sins where he thought only he could reach them. A false panel behind the bookshelf. A safe beneath the floorboard.

  Inside—files. Drives. Names. Dates.

  Proof of everything.

  Illegal arms trades. Mercenary payments. Execution orders signed with nothing but initials.

  And then I find 'that' mission.

  Four years ago.

  The one that haunted my sleep.

  Four men. Labeled as conspirators. Threats to the president. We executed them in a basement with no cameras and no witnesses.

  I read deeper.

  My hands shake.

  They weren't traitors.

  They were loyalists.

  Intelligence officers. Civil servants. Men who uncovered Benjamin's corruption and were planning to expose him—to have him arrested, not the president killed.

  Benjamin had turned us into his executioners.

  I close the file slowly.

  My squad died because they learned the truth.

  Those four men died because I trusted my commander.

  The house is silent as the grave.

  I leave it burning behind me.

  I clasped the dog tags of my dead comrades near my heart.

  "Mission accomplished boys. Your captain avenged you, may your souls rest .. in .. peace."

  My voice becomes weak and I collapsed in the woods near the General's house. I only noticed my chest that was shot hours before was bleeding excessively.

  I cough blood. My eyes are drowsy and I can feel my sight growing dark and I see figures that I am familiar with.

  "Captain—hey, hey, don't die yet."

  Mark's voice. Too clear. Too alive.

  I hear boots hit the ground. Someone laughs—loud, reckless.

  "Holy shit," Mark says. "Did you see his face when the plan went to hell?"

  "That was not the plan," Luis replies, breathless but amused. "That was improvisation bordering on suicide."

  "It worked, didn't it?" Raphael cuts in. "Captain said move, we moved."

  Sam laughs, young and bright. "I thought we were dead. I swear I already saw my mom yelling at me."

  Mark snorts. "Yeah? I saw my grandmother. Guess I lost the bet already."

  "Shut up," Luis says, chuckling. "You're not dying before her. She'll outlive all of us."

  I hear metal clatter. Gear being dropped.

  No gunfire.

  No screaming.

  Just breathing.

  Raphael exhales slowly. "We're... alive."

  There's a pause. Then—

  Mark bursts out laughing.

  Not normal laughter. Broken laughter. The kind that hurts your ribs.

  "What the hell are you laughing at?" Sam asks.

  "I don't know," Mark manages between gasps. "I just—damn—we're still here."

  Luis tries to stay serious. He fails. "You're an idiot."

  "But I'm an alive idiot," Mark says.

  Sam starts laughing too. "Captain, permission to laugh?"

  I hear myself answer, calm, tired. "Permission granted."

  Raphael shakes his head. "This unit is doomed."

  "Doomed but functional," Luis says. "That's new."

  Their laughter overlaps—messy, loud, unstoppable.

  Someone slaps the floor. Someone wheezes for air.

  Mark says, softer now, "Hey, Captain."

  "Yeah."

  "We make a good team, right?"

  There's a warmth in my chest that has nothing to do with blood loss.

  "Yeah," I say. "We do."

  Sam grins at me. "Guess we stick together then."

  Luis adds quietly, "Until the end."

  Raphael scoffs. "Don't get sentimental. Just don't get us killed."

  Mark laughs again. "Too late for that."

  Their voices blur together—laughter, teasing, breathing.

  Alive.

  Together.

  My vision fades, but I smile.

  "These idiots..." I whisper.

  And then the darkness takes me.

  ———

  I hear faint voices left and right but I could not recognize from who.

  Is it nurses or from a doctor? Am I in the hospital?

  "Amethyst hang in there." Cry a voice of a man.

  Who the fuck is Amethyst? My name is Ethan not Amethyst.

  I try to open my eyes because the voice made me curious of who the hell mistakes me for a girl even though I have a slender body, I am a still ripped 30 year old guy.

  The moment I open my eyes I scan the people beside me bawling their eyes out wearing clothes from a victorian tv series.

  I see a man in his 50s holding my right hand tightly with tears on his eyes, a woman also in her 50s holding a handkerchief on her eyes to wipe her tears away and a woman in her 20s wearing an armor suit standing behind the old man with red eyes from crying.

  I scan the place a bit more to understand where I am.

  "Where the fuck am I?" I said in a surprisingly soft voice.

  The moment I spoke in a weak voice the people looked at each other before they stared at me, dumbfounded is the word written on their foreheads.

  "My Lord, did I heard it right?"

  The old man nodded. So, he's a lord. A lord of what? There's no such thing as monarchs existed in my country only presidents and assholes.

  Then I came to a realization, why is my voice sounded like a ... girl?

  A girl? I spring out of the bed which left the people in the room shocked as if they're seeing a miracle. They could not even manage to close their mouths from the shock.

  I removed the blankets and ran towards the big standing mirror near a window with a terrace.

  What the fuck is this sorcery?

  "What the actual fuck!!!" I shouted while looking at the big ass mirror.

  As amaze as I am, I'm also horrified by the things I'm looking at right now in the mirror.

  Pak! Pak! Pak!

  I slapped my face three times to see if I can feel pain.

  Damn it. I felt it. It stings.

  The three people glued their eyes on me the whole time and haven't said any word they just looked at me and at each other as if they are communicating telepathically.

  I face the three people and look at them one by one.

  "Can someone tell me what's going on?"