I was sent to capture the CIA's most wanted fugitive.
But things took a tragic turn,
My entire team was murdered before my eyes, and I was kidnapped by said fugitive.
It seemed like my government had forgotten me and I became a puppet for the fugi...
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It's a beautiful city, Seattle. As I leave behind its vibrant streets, the skyline begins to shrink in my rearview mirror. The transition from urban to rural is swift and striking. Rolling hills replace concrete, and the air feels crisper, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. I find myself on winding roads flanked by towering evergreens, their branches forming a lush canopy above.
Driving through Seattle's countryside is like stepping into a painting. The greens here are deeper, the blues of the sky more vivid. Wildflowers splash the fields with bursts of color, and occasionally, I catch sight of a deer grazing or a hawk soaring overhead. It's a stark contrast to the countryside of New York, where the landscapes, though beautiful, feel more cultivated and less wild.
In New York, the countryside is dotted with charming, historical towns and meticulously maintained farms. The Catskills and the Adirondacks offer their own kind of rugged beauty, but there's a sense of human touch in the rolling vineyards and the carefully restored barns. Here in Seattle, nature feels more untamed, more vast. The farmhouses I pass are quaint and rustic, nestled comfortably into the landscape rather than shaping it.
The Cascade Mountains rise majestically in the distance, their snow-capped peaks a constant reminder of the grandeur of the Pacific Northwest. By comparison, the mountains in New York, while impressive, seem less imposing. The Adirondacks have their own rugged charm, but the sheer scale of the Cascades is humbling.
The sounds of nature surround me-birds chirping, leaves rustling, the distant rush of a stream. It's quieter here than the New York countryside, where the hum of nearby towns is never far off. The serenity of Seattle's rural areas feels deeper, more profound. Each breath I take feels like a cleansing, a reminder of the untouched wilderness that still exists here.
I follow the directions toward the residence of Alexander Hidalgo, brother to Andreas Hidalgo, the fugitive we're determined to catch. The road narrows, leading me deeper into the woods, and I can't help but feel a mix of anticipation and anxiety. Alexander is our best chance at getting to Andreas, or more so, a step up I'm our current information. If he cooperates, it could be because of his seven-year-old daughter and his beautiful wife.
Their home comes into view, a large, stately house nestled in a clearing surrounded by towering pines. It's picturesque, almost idyllic, but I remind myself of the gravity of the situation. As I pull into the driveway, I notice toys scattered across the front yard, evidence of a child's playtime. The sight tugs at my heartstrings, and I hope it will do the same to Alexander.
I take a deep breath and step out of the car, the gravel crunching under my feet. I approach the front door, my mind racing with thoughts of what I'll say, how I'll convince him to help us. For his family's sake, I hope he listens. I hope he cooperates.
Jesse places his hand on mine before I ring the bell.
"Are you ready?" he asks. I smile at him and I ring the bell.
