AUBREY’S POV:

Four hours earlier…

The C-130 Hercules transport plane descended from the moonlit sky, its engines roaring like thunder. As it touched down on the remote airstrip, a cloud of dust billowed up, obscuring the surrounding terrain. The plane’s engines gradually quieted, and the hatch swung open with a hiss.

Our Spades team, led by Ramsey, was the first to disembark. Our dark, subdued camouflage blended seamlessly with the shadows cast by the moonlight. The DEVGRU followed closely behind, their camouflage pattern making them stand out slightly. Razor, their leader, took point as they exited the plane. They were similarly equipped, but with a few variations tailored to their specific training and expertise.

I watched as Ramsey radioed back to base to confirm our arrival, receiving a brief acknowledgement in response. A sudden change washed over his face. His thick brows furrowed, and a look of disgust settled on his features.

I stood a few feet away, arms folded, watching him closely. The call had come just like I was told. The base had ordered us to stand down, to pull out. It was inevitable, and now everything was falling into place.

The tension building up inside him was becoming obvious, the way his grip tightened around the radio until his body seemed to vibrate with restraint.

Normally Ramsey isn’t the type of man you could predict or manipulate. He was an almost perfect soldier -- everything he did, every move he made, was near flawless. Captain Ralph R. Ramsey. The name alone commanded attention, respect, and fear. His reputation was known worldwide--the decorated soldier with more accolades than any, the man who could turn the tide of any mission. The one whose names is whispered in the highest circles of the military, their sweetheart.

What most didn’t know -- what only a handful of us ever understood -- was who he really was. To most, he was just a name attached to impossible feats and daring victories. Only peers of his knew him as who he really was -- The Ace of Spades, leader of the Spades. He wore that dual identity like armor, keeping his real operations hidden behind the curtain of his public success.

I’ve always hated him.

It all started back when we were cadets, both of us young, ambitious, and determined to rise. I’ve never been one to expect handouts--nothing in my life was given to me, and I didn’t expect that to change in the military. Everything I earned, I fought for, tooth and nail. And that’s exactly what I did back then, working twice as hard as anyone else, pushing myself to the limit because I needed to be the best. Not wanted--needed.

And for a time, I was. The top cadet, excelling at everything, though I wasn’t exactly popular. No, I didn’t care about being liked. My focus was on being recognized, acknowledged. It’s what drove me, that burning desire to stand above everyone else. Viper -- that’s what they called me. My peers might not have liked me, but they couldn’t deny my success. I earned their resentment because I was better, and that was all that mattered.

But then… he showed up. Ramsey. He was nobody at first -- just another cadet, someone I didn’t think much of. I even pitied him in the beginning, lent him a hand when it suited me. But then, like a switch had flipped, he started outperforming me. Not just once, not by luck -- consistently. Suddenly, everything I had worked so hard for, all the sweat and blood I’d poured into being the best, was slipping away. He was better. And what stung the most? People liked him. They actually liked him.

Overnight, I was no longer the best, and that… that was unbearable. The recognition I’d fought for was his now, and it wasn’t some fluke. Ramsey wasn’t just good, he was a natural. Better at everything I’d struggled to master. And no matter how hard I pushed myself, I couldn’t take back my spot. I tried. God, how I tried. But nothing worked. Ralph Ramsey had stolen everything from me.

But there was more to it than just him being better than me. It was deeper than that.

I hated the way he never seemed to struggle. Everything came so easily to him, like he was born for it. While I clawed and scraped for every inch of progress, he moved through it all like it was nothing. I could see it in his eyes, in the way he carried himself -- calm, collected, like nothing could touch him. It wasn’t just that he was better than me, it was the fact that he didn’t even try to be.

While I spent countless nights obsessing over every detail, every tactic, pushing myself to the edge, he seemed to breeze through it all without a second thought. He didn’t have to push through the pain, the exhaustion, the doubt. Everything just fell into place for him, like the universe itself was handing him the victory on a silver platter.

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I resented him for that. I hated him for making it all look so easy, for never having to feel what it was like to struggle. That was the thing that cut the deepest. Because for me, it had never been easy. And for him, it was like the world bent to his will without him even having to ask.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t right. And yet, here he was -- always one step ahead, effortlessly taking everything I worked so hard for.

. .

Years passed. I rose through the ranks on my own merit, earned my position as the leader of my unit. By then, I had almost forgotten about him, or at least, I told myself I had. But then, out of nowhere, he returned. He was assigned to my unit. And just like before, he took everything. They made him the leader, and I -- after all my hard work -- was demoted to his Vice. It was happening all over again, and it was like a punch to the gut.

I transferred out as soon as I could, thinking I could escape him. But fate had other plans. The military formed a new special ops unit, the Spades. It was prestigious, considered to be the highest honor you could hope for as an operative. I went through the screenings, the tests, the evaluations, and I was certain I’d lead the team. I was the most qualified. Then they announced the final member: Ramsey. Of course, it was him. And worse, they didn’t just make him a member. They named him The Ace of Spades. He was to lead the team.

I was furious. No, more than furious -- I was seething. Everywhere I went, no matter how far I climbed, he was always there, always better, always taking what should have been mine. But I couldn’t transfer this time. The Spades were the pinnacle, and leaving would mean a step down. So, I stayed. I forced myself to accept it -- or at least, that’s what I told myself.

. .

He gestured for me and Razor who were talking over plans with the teams to join him. We stepped aside, out of earshot of the rest of the team.

“They want us to stand down and return home.” He announced, his voice tight with frustration.

Perfect.

The truth is, I was waiting. Biding my time. Watching him, learning. Ramsey’s greatest strength was also his greatest weakness, and I knew it better than anyone. He cared too much. He always had. He let his feelings get in the way of his judgement, especially when it mattered most. It had always been his flaw, from the beginning. And now, finally, I have the angle I need. It’s finally happening. His pride, and sense of duty, those noble traits everyone admired -- they’re going to destroy him.

I kept my expression neutral, but inside, satisfaction spread like wildfire. The base’s decision was a slap in the face after everything we’d poured into this mission. It was crucial to him, not just another assignment. He believed in it, believed it would save innocent lives, that it would matter for the country and beyond.

He kicked a stone across the ground, his boot striking it with just enough force to send it flying. The sound echoed in the space around us. His frustration, his pride… it was all pushing him to the edge. And that was exactly where I needed him to be.

“Why do I get the vibe that I’m not going to like this?” I said with a soft, almost sympathetic chuckle, keeping my tone light and concerned. I tilted my head slightly, giving him that look -- genuine worry, the perfect picture of a loyal comrade.

“Whatever you’re feeling right now is irrelevant. We’re here to follow orders,” Razor stated firmly. “If we’re told to return, we return.”

“The Hive is a breeding ground for high profile criminals, especially terrorists,” I argued, hoping to sway him. “It’s a global threat. Ignoring it would be a mistake. Remember the last time we let a terrorist cell grow unchecked?”

His expression darkened almost instantly. “I know. But our orders are clear. TAOS, I know what you’re thinking, believe me, it will not end well.”

“For us or the hundreds of millions of innocent lives? I don’t know about you, Razor, but it’s an exchange I’ll gladly take

Come on, Ramsey. Say something.

“What about the consequences? If you go, I’ll have to follow and all our men will do the same as well. It’s not fair to condemn them to such dark fate.”

I kept my focus on Ramsey as Razor spoke. He was clearly dealing with the dilemma at hand. Razor was right, and I think Ramsey realized that ever since he got off the radio with Pierce. It was no easy decision.

A sly and subtle smirk crept to my lips as I watched Ramsey shrug to Razor’s words, finally ready to reply. “I’ll speak with everyone one of our people personally and offer them a choice. You know me well. You know I’d rather die than have someone suffer for my sins. I’m prepared to face whatever punishment Pierces throws at me. Nothing is going to stop me from destroying the base.”

Yes! That’s it, Ramsey. That’s it.

“You know, every time I think about Pierce’s orders, I immediately recall the significance of the base, and all the harm it’s caused. And then I see flashes of my home, my daughter. Suddenly, my mind becomes clear, and the picture becomes clearer. I remember I don’t serve them. I remember and ask myself, what if it was my daughter that was caught up in the destruction caused by terrorists? Who do I serve? Do I serve the good of the people, or the interests of these politicians?” He added.

Ramsey’s voice slowly grew louder, his passion evident. “I serve the people. I serve the innocent lives that could be lost if we do nothing. Who do you serve, Razor? And do not give me some rehearsed bullshit or I’ll beat the living crap out of you right now. Tell me!”

That’s it! Thank you. What a man you are, Ramsey.

I turned to Razor, whose face was etched with intense contemplation. He is a good man, a loyal soldier, but he was also a product of the system. Too bad for him, he’s up against Ramsey, the not so pleasant version of him.

The only certainty right now is the continuity of the mission. I need not utter another word anymore, it is all but done.