Part 1: White Light and Shattered Memories

A high-pitched ringing was the first thing Sam felt before his vision returned. Then came the smell of antiseptic, dried blood, and the stench of death lingering in the air. Sam opened his eyes. The fluorescent lights in the field tent in Fallujah danced before him like tiny demons.

“You’re awake, Sam? Lucky. That bomb almost turned you to ash,” came the gravelly voice of Colonel Vance from the shadows.

Sam tried to sit up. His head throbbed. He remembered being on patrol, remembered a flash of light from a third-story window, and then… a vast emptiness. He didn’t remember where he came from, the faces of his parents, or even why he had a long scar across his left ribs. The only thing left in his instincts was how to field-strip a SCAR-H in ten seconds and how to take down an enemy with a knife to the throat.

“Everything will be fine; your memory will return,” Vance handed him a black folder. “But right now, we don’t have time to wait. The mastermind behind the bombing, the insurgent leader Al-Zalam, is hiding in the northern slums. You’re the best we have. You have to end this tonight.”

Sam looked at the target’s photo. It was a man wrapped in a headscarf, showing only deep, hateful eyes. A strange electric current ran down Sam’s spine. He accepted the mission without question. Why would he question it? He was a soldier. And soldiers obey.

Part 2: Into the Lion’s Den

The Baghdad night was lit by the streaks of tracer fire. Sam moved like a ghost through the ruined buildings. His skills far exceeded those of an average soldier. He didn’t need a map; his feet instinctively knew the darkest paths. He didn’t need night-vision goggles; his eyes seemed to pierce through thick layers of dust.

He took out two sentries at the outer gate with silenced shots so precise it was terrifying. No sound, no wasted movement. Sam felt his body was like a machine pre-programmed for death. He bypassed stray bullets from warring factions and slipped into the heart of an underground bunker beneath a bombed-out apartment complex.

The deeper he went, the colder it became. Sam heard his heart beating steadily at 60 beats per minute, not a single throb faster despite being in the most dangerous zone on Earth. It was abnormal, but Sam had no time for thought. The target was right behind that steel door.

Part 3: Confrontation in the Dark

Sam breached the lock and stormed inside, weapon raised. The room was shrouded in darkness, filled only with the pungent smell of tobacco and heavy breathing.

“So, you’ve come, you poor child?” a voice spoke—in perfect English, not Arabic.

Sam didn’t answer. Following his training, he fired a shot into the stranger’s leg to immobilize him, then rushed forward. He pressed the muzzle of his rifle against the man’s forehead and pulled out his tactical flashlight. The white beam tore through the darkness.

And then, Sam’s world collapsed.

Under the light, the man writhing in pain was not a bearded insurgent leader. He was a white man in a tattered U.S. Army uniform, his patches faded and torn. But more importantly, that face… those eyes… the long scar on his left ribs visible through the torn shirt…

It was Sam. But a version that was older, more weathered, with the wrinkles of exhaustion and twenty years of life piled upon it.

“Who… are you?” Sam stammered, his grip on the gun trembling.

The older man looked at him, a bitter smile playing on his lips: “I am Samuel Miller. Captain, 1st Infantry Division. And you… you are my 13th specimen.”

Part 4: The Twist – The Truth of Project Mirror

“Don’t listen to him, Sam! He’s playing mind games! Finish him now!” Colonel Vance’s voice roared through his earpiece.

Sam ripped the earpiece out and threw it to the floor. He stared intently at the man across from him.

“They didn’t tell you, did they?” The older man coughed violently, blood spilling from his leg wound. “You aren’t the soldier who survived the blast. You were born in a glass cage in Maryland six months ago. You are a clone. They took my DNA—the DNA of the best soldier they had who started asking too many questions about humanity—to create ‘machines’ of absolute obedience.”

Sam backed away, his head spinning. The shattered memories suddenly clicked into place. Why did he have no childhood memories? Why did his wounds heal so fast? Why was he “the best”?

“Every time a real soldier like me realizes the corruption of the system and tries to desert, they send a clone,” the man continued, his voice fading. “Your final mission is to kill the original. It’s the ultimate loyalty test. After I’m dead, you take my dog tags, go home, hug my wife, kiss my children, and continue being a perfect pawn until you… start to think. And then they’ll send Specimen 14 to kill you.”

Sam looked at his hands. Clean skin, no calluses of time. He looked at the dying man—the real soldier who had fought, loved, and suffered.

Part 5: Choice and Destiny

The thud of military boots echoed from the stairwell. Vance’s cleanup crew was arriving to check the results.

“Kill me,” the older man whispered. “If you don’t kill me, they’ll terminate us both. At least live to take care of my family. Don’t let them know you know the truth.”

Sam stood frozen in the middle of the bunker. On one side was the mission programmed into his genes; on the other was the agonizing awakening of his humanity. He saw the gun on the floor and the flashlight beam beginning to dim.

Outside, Colonel Vance’s authoritative voice rang out: “Sam, report!”

Sam slowly picked up the older man’s dog tags. He looked at the face identical to his own reflected in the pool of blood on the floor. He understood that from this moment on, he was no longer a soldier. He was either a soul thief or the successor of a rebellion.

One final, dry gunshot echoed through the dark bunker.