The jungle seethed under a midnight storm, its darkness broken only by an almost scary flashes of lightning that seemed to be sending warnings as it threw the wet canopy into violent silhouette. The sharp cracks of playful gunfire echoed in the distance, swallowed by the trees, while the deep hum of approaching helicopters vibrated through the rain-heavy air.
Colonel David Thompson crouched in the undergrowth, rain sliding off his tactical gear, his weapon cradled low and ready. Around him, his unit—Team Omega-9—moved like ghosts through the dense foliage. These weren't just soldiers. They were handpicked, battle-tested elites. His brothers.
To his right, Sergeant Kyle Brenner, his second-in-command, tapped twice on his earpiece. "Movement at ten o'clock. Small patrol. Two men."
David nodded. "Keep it quiet."
Kyle disappeared into the mist with a grin.
To his left, Corporal Harlan Reyes, the team's sniper and techie, adjusted the sensor jammer strapped to his chest. "No signals bouncing back, sir. They've got something jamming our comms too. Feels... deliberate."
David's jaw tightened. "They're expecting us."
For weeks, they had followed the trail of Victor Vex, the elusive drug lord who ruled a network of blood and corruption. Dozens of agents had died trying to get to him. Now, Team Omega-9 had tracked him to a hidden compound deep in cartel-controlled jungle.
But something was definitely wrong.
Everything was just too easy.
The paths were clear which was unusual. The intel, too precise. And every time they drew close to Vex in recent weeks, the enemy was already moving.
David had long suspected there was a leak. But now, in this storm-soaked night, it was no longer a theory—it was a trap. And he knew it.
Still, he pressed forward.
"Move in. I want a standard trianglar breach. No heroics, no fashion," he said. "Vex should be inside. This is our shot."
The team reached the outer perimeter of the compound—three metal-walled buildings surrounded by local chain-net fencing and sandbag barriers. A mini warzone. Guards patrolled lazily, unaware of the storm creeping through the jungle. Unaware of the imminent danger looming over their life.
David raised his fist. Go.
They struck fast. Silenced weapons. Swift kills. Room by room, Omega-9 moved like a machine. They were that good.
But Vex was nowhere.
Inside the main building, David scanned the room—maps, weapons, cash. And a blinking laptop. Active, unsecured.
He moved to it.
"Abort. Extract immediately."
A voice ordered through his earpiece. A command. But… not from Central Command. He could tell.
David's blood froze for a moment or two.
"Brenner, did you hear that?"
"Negative. All I've got is static now."
The message had come through on a frequency only the 'over-decorated' breasts had access to.
His gut twisted.
Suddenly, the sound of metal crashing echoed through the compound.
"Ambush!" Reyes shouted from outside. A realization that dawned on them quicker than anything before.
The compound lit up with muzzle flashes. Dozens—no, hundreds—of shots. Grenades launched into the night.
Team Omega-9 was surrounded in a blink.
"Fall back! Now!" David ordered.
But the exits were blocked. Machine guns lit up the jungle. Men screamed. Blood sprayed.
Brenner took a bullet through the thigh but kept firing. Reyes dragged another soldier into cover. The rest were pinned in different corners, desperately trying to regroup.
David ducked behind a wall as bullets ripped through the wooden interior.
He keyed his emergency beacon and activated his encrypted transmitter—hoping it would punch through the interference. And, fortunately, his luck was still active.
"This is Colonel David Thompson. Operation compromised. Betrayed from inside. I repeat, compromised. If you're hearing this... trust no one. The enemy is in the shadows."
From the smoke ahead, a shadow approached. Calm. Confident.
Victor Vex.
The drug lord wore a rain-slicked jacket and a annoying , mischievous smile. He walked over the bodies like a man stepping through puddles of beans.
"You were brave to come, Colonel. Stupid... but brave."
David raised his rifle.
"You won't leave this place alive."
Vex chuckled. "Neither will you."
Before David could fire, another shot rang out—from behind him.
His shoulder exploded in pain. He spun. Brenner.
The sergeant—his friend—stood with a rifle raised and eyes cold.
"You…"
"I'm sorry, Dave," Brenner said, genuinely sad. "You should've walked away." He really wished David had walked away but he knew that was the last thing he'd do.
David collapsed to his knees as Vex stepped forward and yanked the dog tags from his neck.
"Your sons will grow up knowing their father was a failure. Their only legacy... is shame."
The last thing David saw was the glint of the knife.
The last thing he felt... was the rain, washing away the blood.
---
3 Days Before the Mission
David knelt in his study, tying Ethan's loose shoelaces while Liam, ever serious at sixteen, stood by the door.
"This mission is important," David said, voice quiet. "But if anything ever happens to me, I need you to look out for each other, okay? And,you have to protect your Ma for me. No matter what!"
"You'll come back," Ethan said confidently. "You always..."
David rose,kissed their mother on the cheek and turned,"I always do."
...But this time,he didn't.
---
Back in the jungle, as the storm raged and the compound burned, Victor Vex's helicopter lifted off—leaving behind smoke, fire, and the shattered remains of a team that never stood a chance.
---
The rain hadn't stopped since sundown.
It lashed against the windows of the Thompson family's modest New York home, tapping like skeletal or metal fingers across glass panes. Thunder rolled above as if mourning something unspoken... something more. Inside, the warmth of the house did little to soften the tension spreading through the living room like evil.
Ethan Thompson, thirteen years old, paced the hardwood floor with anxious, restless steps. His soaked sneakers left faint streaks behind. The digital clock on the wall blinked 11:57 PM. His father was late. He was never late. Never! He was uneasy.
On the couch sat his older brother, Liam, sixteen, shoulders squared but fists clenched white at his sides. He didn't speak. He barely blinked. He was waiting.
Across from them, their mother, Margaret, stood in the kitchen entrance with a steaming mug that she hadn't sipped in over an hour. Her eyes were red, but no tears had fallen. Not yet at least.
They were all anxious. Restless. Nothing should go as they've feared. The storm outside was growing worse. It almost felt unreal.
"It's just delayed," Ethan muttered to himself." Maybe the extraction point changed. That happens, right?"
Liam didn't answer.
"Liam?"
" He'll come back," Liam finally said. " He said he would. And besides, he always does."
But the words didn't carry conviction. Just habit.
Margaret set the mug down and slowly walked over, placing a hand on Liam's shoulder. "You're both so much like him," she whispered. "Strong. Stubborn. Brave."
They sat in silence.
Then—a knock at the door.
Three fast raps.
Margaret froze. Liam's breath caught in his chest. Ethan turned to look, eyes wide and already filling with dread.
"Who knocks at midnight during a storm?" Ethan whispered.
Liam stood up. Each step toward the door felt like walking through water, it was heavy. He opened it slowly.
Two military officers stood beneath umbrellas, soaked from the waist down. Both wore somber expressions—the kind soldiers learned to perfect.
"Ma'am," one said as they took a step in without permission, voice low but clear. "We regret to inform you… Colonel David Thompson was killed in action."
The world fell silent. Everything seemed to pause.
Ethan blinked. Once. Twice.
"No," he said, backing up. "No, no, no—"
He turned and bolted up the stairs, fists pounding against the handrail as he ran to his room. His door slammed. Then again. And again. Something crashed.
Margaret crumbled into Liam's arms, finally letting go of her tears. She couldn't have possibly cried in Ethan's presence.
The officers stepped forward, further into the room, offering a small black case—David's dog tags. Alongside it, a sealed mission file that has 'CLASSIFIED' written on it. And on the down right corner was 'Colonel Thompson' written in Italics.
"His body was not recovered," the officer continued. He didn't need to,but he did, out of sympathy and compassion. "He was leading a high-risk mission against a Tier-1 cartel target—Victor Vex."
"Did he... complete it?" Liam asked softly.
The officer paused. "The mission failed. We believe the team was ambushed. There's evidence of internal betrayal."
Liam took the case without a word.
---
The rain had finally reduced to a drizzle that could wet you up in less than a minute. Liam was alone in the living room, staring into something only he could see. He wasn't sure if he was alive in that moment.
He was brought back by the clang of something in the kitchen. It was his mother. She too haven't slept a wink. Ethan was in his room, but he knew the boy was very much awake. Who wouldn't be? Some military officers just walked up to them and told them they weren't going to see their father again... How could they sleep?
Liam twisted his wrist so that his wrist watch could face him. The red dail wrote 4:39 AM. Everything here holds a memory of his father. The wrist watch had been gifted to him by David for his sixteenth birthday. And apparently,he doesn't seem like he had taken it off since that day.
In the middle of his thoughts, he third-sensed a movement in the street. A figure stood under the lamp post. It was silhouetted. He couldn't see the face. And, at once it turned to leave. It was a man.