After touching down on the grassy shoreline, Nick immediately detached his parachute harness, preventing the gusting mountain winds from dragging him into the freezing lake.
He unsealed the heavy-duty waterproof pouch.
Inside were only two items: a standard-issue Marathon general-purpose mechanical military watch and a topographic map devoid of any grid coordinates, place names, or regional labels.
Comparing the surrounding ridge contours against the elevation lines on the paper, Nick quickly identified the small lake, marked his destination, and calculated the distance.
He let out a long breath of relief.
He hadn’t drifted off-course during the canopy descent; the remaining trek was roughly forty-two kilometers due north.
So far, he still couldn’t determine the ultimate objective of the organization that had hired him—or rather, hired the elite sniper identity of Levi Kane.
However, he could temporarily rule out a long-range high-value assassination.
The primary weapon system packed in his tactical rucksack was a standard M4A1 carbine fitted with a modest 4x ACOG optic—hardly the rifle of choice for taking out a distant target.
Furthermore, he doubted a single kinetic strike could trigger the end of the world.
Even the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand had merely served as a catalyst for existing geopolitical tensions.
Unless, of course, Nick thought dryly, this timeline suddenly introduces a cosmic threat like Thanos.
Having landed just after noon, Nick covered nearly twenty-five kilometers of dense forest before finding a shallow rock cave to pitch his bivouac for the night.
Judging by the atmospheric pressure, the elevation remained under three thousand meters.
Although his watch read September 12th, the high-altitude foliage was already turning a pale yellow.
The timberline was dominated by cold-resistant conifers like spruce and fir, suggesting a northern latitude between 40 and 50 degrees.
Luck remained on his side.
No rain or snow fell overnight, and he wasn’t disturbed by apex predators as he slept.
At first light, Nick packed his lightweight sleeping bag, chewed through a high-calorie field ration, and broke camp.
The tightly spaced contour lines on the map indicated the final leg of the trek would be far more taxing.
His assessment proved correct.
The last ten kilometers consisted almost entirely of steep vertical climbs, requiring him to free-solo several exposed rock faces to clear the ridge.
Even for a hardened Marine with iron legs, the effort was exhausting.
Crossing the final high-altitude crest, Nick looked down into a long, narrow canyon shrouded in thick white fog.
The ravine stretched from south to north, measuring four to five hundred meters across and roughly ten kilometers in length.
Mountain peaks sealed both the northern and southern exits, yet no body of water had accumulated in the basin, hinting at a natural underground drainage system.
Standing on opposite rim faces of the gorge were two massive, fortified observation towers, each rising forty to fifty meters into the air.
Seeing the structures, Nick knew he had arrived at his designated rendezvous.
Recalling the one-year operational timeline outlined by the silver-haired administrator at Camp Pendleton, Nick couldn’t help but wonder: Is the black-budget contract really just forcing me to sit in this desolate gorge for twelve months?
He was reminded of a remote job listing he had once seen online in his past life: a wilderness fire lookout paying six figures to spend ten months isolated in a forestry tower. New chapters come out on novelping . com first.
The setup felt strangely identical.
Yet whatever was being monitored here clearly had nothing to do with forest fires.
As Nick surveyed the mist-covered ravine, a high-pitched, energetic voice called out from the rocky slope behind him.
“Welcome, my Prince!
Magnificent time—you’re a full two hours ahead of schedule!”
Nick felt a subtle cringe at the overly theatrical greeting.
Turning around, he saw a Black man with short, curly hair walking down the incline with open arms.
The man introduced himself in crisp, formal British English.
“I am Jasper D.
Drake, late of the Royal Marines.
You may call me JD.”
Nick bypassed the offer of an embrace, extending his right hand instead.
“Levi Kane.
Former Recon Sniper, United States Marine Corps.”
JD gripped Nick’s hand, shaking it vigorously.
His eyes flicked over Nick, picking up on the past-tense phrasing.
“So, currently…”
“Private contractor,” Nick said plainly.
“And do you know what our esteemed employers have sent you here to oversee?” JD asked, maintaining a wide, cheerful grin as he turned to lead the way down the slope.
“Not a clue,” Nick replied, stepping into line behind him.
“They gave me an unmarked map, kept me sedated for the flight, and didn’t even mention which continent this is.”
They walked together toward the reinforced concrete tower.
JD laughed aloud, his energy strikingly intense for someone in the middle of nowhere.
“I’ve been stationed here for an entire year and I still don’t know the geographic coordinates!
But don’t trouble yourself with small details, mate.
Dwell on those questions and you’ll never get a night’s sleep.”
He paused, glancing back at Nick with genuine relief.
I am simply thrilled to see another human face.”
Nick figured the man wasn’t necessarily a chatterbox by nature; he was simply suffering from a year of absolute human isolation.
“You’re the first living soul I’ve spoken to face-to-face in three hundred and sixty-five days,” JD added, confirming the suspicion.
Nick glanced across the chasm toward the twin fortification on the opposite cliff face.
“You’ve been handling this post alone?”
“Indeed,” JD affirmed.
“And starting at midnight tonight, the watch passes to you.
My contract officially expires at 0000 hours.
Why don’t we head inside, pour a drink, and I’ll brief you on the routine?”
They reached the base of the massive structure.
The expression on JD’s face shifted from manic excitement to something approaching quiet reverence.
“Welcome to your home for the next year: the Western Observation Tower.”
“Fully automated solar grid, backup diesel generators, rainwater filtration systems, abundant game in the valley below, and a raised vegetable garden out back.
Completely self-sustaining setup.”
Nick looked up at the summit of the tower.
Though the structure tapered as it rose, the upper bunker was substantial, easily spanning over a hundred square meters of enclosed floor space.
He gestured across the fog-filled gap toward the opposite cliff.
“If you’re the only one stationed on this side, what’s the arrangement over there?”
JD looked across the canyon, his tone abruptly dropping its lighthearted edge.
“That is the Eastern Observation Tower.
Standing orders strictly forbid any form of communication or cross-canyon contact.”
He gestured down toward the valley floor.
“Though as you can see, the entire length of the canyon floor is seeded with tethered anti-personnel mines and automated point-defense CIWS turrets.
The restriction is largely symbolic anyway—no one gets across, and it’s too far to shout.”
They stepped through the heavy steel blast door at the base of the tower.
Inside, a rusted, vintage industrial lift—barely large enough to accommodate two full-equipped men—hung inside an open shaft.
JD pulled back the heavy iron mesh door, gesturing for Nick to step inside.
“She looks older than both of us combined, but she’s rock solid.
I’ve serviced the cables and motor every ninety days without fail.”