The Last Patriot

Logan Carter hadn't worn his uniform in almost a year, but standing in front of the white stone steps of Langley Headquarters, he felt like he never took it off.

He was supposed to be home. In the small Illinois farmhouse he and Rebecca had bought before the war. They were supposed to be building a new life, painting the nursery, arguing over baby names—not this.

But when the man in the black suit knocked on his door that morning, there wasn't really a choice. Not for someone like Logan.

He stepped through the lobby—sterile, quiet, buzzing with invisible tension—and was led down a series of halls by a thin, unreadable aide. They descended two flights of stairs and came to a steel door, unmarked, with a palm reader built into the wall. The aide gave a nod.

"Inside. They're waiting."

Logan placed his hand on the reader. The door clicked and slid open.

The room was dimly lit, more like a bunker than an office. Around a circular table sat six figures—four in military uniform, one in a grey suit, and one familiar face: Dr. Natalie Hart, his childhood friend turned government scientist.

"Natalie," he said, uncertain.

"Logan," she stood, offering a tight smile. "Good to see you again."

He took the seat beside her, eyes scanning the others. One general—stocky, bulldog face—leaned forward immediately.

"Sergeant Logan, we'll skip the pleasantries. You're here because of your record, your discipline, and your loyalty. We need your consent for something important."

The man in the grey suit slid a file across the table. On its cover, two words stamped in red:

PROJECT LIBERTY.

Logan opened it. The first page was a photo—his photo—followed by pages of medical data, service records, battlefield reports. But beneath it all was the second half of the file—dense scientific jargon, biochemistry diagrams, genome maps.

"What is this?" he asked, brows furrowed.

Natalie answered. "It's a countermeasure. A response. You've seen the footage of the Third Reich's 'superhuman,' Eric?"

Logan nodded grimly. Everyone had. The man lifted a tank barehanded and smiled while doing it.

"We believe they've engineered him from birth. Not just trained, Logan—altered. Beyond what we thought was possible. They didn't make a soldier. They made a symbol."

Logan shut the file. "And you want to make one too."

"Yes," said the general. "But this time, a real one. Someone born from sacrifice, not supremacy."

The room fell silent.

Logan looked to Natalie. "You believe in this?"

She hesitated, then said quietly, "I believe in you."

He stood and paced. "So what does it involve? Chemicals? Surgery? What?"

Natalie took a deep breath. "It's a serum—one I developed with a bio adaptation sequence. It will enhance your strength, speed, neural reflexes, even cellular regeneration. But it has risks. The body can reject it. It can kill. Or… it can change more than just your body."

He stared at her. "What does that mean?"

"It means we don't know how it will affect your mind. The serum works with your neurochemistry, your memory, your trauma. The more pressure you're under, the more it reshapes you. The stronger you get… the further from yourself you might drift."

He ran a hand through his hair, laughing bitterly. "Sounds like a nightmare."

"But a necessary one," the general said. "The balance of the world is tipping, Hayes. The Soviets have something brewing. The Germans have their monster. We need our answer."

"Why me?" Logan asked, quieter now. "Why not someone younger, stronger, cleaner?"

Natalie answered. "Because we need someone who remembers what it means to hurt. Not just kill. That's what separates you from Eric."

Logan sat back down. "I came home from hell. I thought that was it. But you're saying we never really stopped fighting, did we?"

"No," the man in the suit said. "This is just a new kind of war."

He closed the file.

"Will I still be me after this?"

Natalie looked away. "I hope so."

Logan nodded slowly. "And Rebecca?"

"She'll be safe. She won't even have to know what's happening. We'll give her a story, let her believe you're on a training mission."

Logan clenched his jaw. "Lying to her already."

Natalie placed a hand over his. "Logan. If we don't do this, Eric becomes the future. Not just for Germany—for the whole world. You can stop that. You can give people hope again."

He looked down at her hand. Warm. Real. Unlike anything else in the room.

He remembered standing in a trench outside Bastogne. Snow falling, blood freezing in his gloves. Remembered watching a friend get torn apart by shrapnel. Remembered surviving when better men didn't. That guilt never left.

Maybe this was his chance to make it mean something.

He stood.

"I'll do it."

No one applauded. No one smiled.

The general merely nodded. "You'll be moved to the Liberty Site tonight. Procedure starts in seventy-two hours."

As Logan turned to go, Natalie walked with him.

"I'm sorry," she said softly. "This isn't what I wanted for you."

"I know," he replied. "But maybe it's what the world needs from me."

They reached the elevator. Logan turned before stepping inside.

"Promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"If I lose myself… bring me back. Don't let me become him."

Natalie's eyes shimmered.

"I promise."

And the doors slid shut.