A little way from the White House, under a somber Washington, D.C. sky, a memorial ceremony for the US soldiers killed in the Basra explosion unfolded at Arlington National Cemetery.
Rows of coffins draped in American flags stood in silent tribute, surrounded by grieving family members, their faces etched with loss. Military personnel in crisp uniforms stood at attention, while media cameras captured the scene with restrained respect. At the heart of the gathering, an elderly man in a wheelchair, dressed in a military uniform adorned with faded medals, gripped the armrests tightly. Retired General Charles Carlton, Father of Reed Carlton, his body now old and frail, weakened by illness, stared ahead, his expression unreadable. Beside him, a folded American flag was presented by a young soldier who saluted sharply. Carlton returned the salute, his hand trembling but resolute.
The sharp crack of a 21-gun salute echoed through the cemetery, bullets fired skyward in honor of the fallen.
The crowd stood still, some wiping tears, others clutching photos of their loved ones. Among the coffins was one for Reed Carlson, a young soldier whose framed photo rested on an easel, his smile frozen in time. Nearby, family members sobbed quietly, holding each other for support.
Vice President Elena Harper, a tall woman with a composed demeanor, stepped onto a small stage erected for the occasion. Her dark suit was somber, her voice steady as she addressed the crowd.
"We gather to honor the brave soldiers who gave their lives in Basra, victims of a horrific act of terror. Their sacrifice will not be forgotten. We stand with their families, and we vow to seek justice. " She paused, her eyes scanning the crowd.
"I now invite Retired General Charles Carlton, who lost his son, Reed, in this tragedy, to share his words." A murmur rippled through the crowd as a maid gently wheeled General Carlton to the podium. His wheelchair creaked softly, and she adjusted the microphone to his level. Carlton, his white hair thin under his cap, cleared his throat, his voice slow but carrying a quiet power that silenced the crowd—families, media, and soldiers alike.
"My family has served this nation for generations," Carlton began, his words deliberate.
"My father, his father before him, and my son, Reed all wore the uniform with pride. They knew the cost of duty, the weight of sacrifice. Reed was only 27, full of fire, ready to make a difference. He died in Basra, not just as a soldier, but as a son, a friend , a brother to all. This GJF—they didn't just take lives; they took futures. But we will not let their terror define us."
The crowd listened, some nodding, others clutching tissues. Carlton's voice grew stronger.
"I taught Reed what my father taught me: to serve without fear, to protect without hesitation. a text I read in my youth, speaks of duty- acting for the greater good, not for glory. Our soldiers lived that truth. And yes, we ask why Krish, who stopped Arya's war and saved millions, didn't stop this. But I don't blame him. I blame the shadows who armed those fanatics, who turned Basra into a pyre for their twisted 'messiah.' We must find them, and we must honor our fallen by rebuilding what they sought to destroy."
A little further back, Richard Flare arrived, still raw from his White House meeting. He stood with his bodyguards, watching the ceremony. One of them, Harris, informs him about the situation and the location of their target, Carl.
Flare's eyes narrowed, spotting Charles Carlton Jr., Reed's older brother, seated just ahead of the podium.
Carl, also in a wheelchair, wore dark sunglasses shielding his eyes from the bright sun. His face was impassive, no one could tell what he was thinking. Flare noted the Carlton's stillness, and didn't feel anything, just waited for the time to come.
Carl Jr. listened as his father's speech continued, and soon the vice president once again took the podium, and the maid took him to the place where Carl Jr Was.
Both father and son stood side by side on their respective wheelchairs , and in the middle like a casam, a photo of diseased Reed Carlson was placed on a table. Both father and son never looked at each other, not even once, the senior looking body looking nowhere, and Junior looking straight, they were similar and yet had nothing in common.
Soon the ceremony ended, and a group of people and military men surrounded Carlton Senior and Carl simply walked away with a woman pushing his wheelchair.
He reached the parking lot, and near his car, he saw someone he knows, Mr Richard Flare, his benefactor, he didn't say anything but waited for him to start the conversation, and like he expected it didn't take long.
" Maybe you have something to explain." And they both sat on a modified limbo, facing each other.
And on one end was Richard and his body guard harish, and on the other hand was Carl and his secretary, which gave Richard a weird feeling, and he feels that he has seen her somewhere. And seeing this Carl commented moving his wrist and legs.
" Remember her? Cecilia. The one in the culture chamber." And he took a glass from combinat and Cecelia fielded it with Champaign.
" Want to have one?" He asked pointing at the champaign, which he grabbed for Cecelia and accidently spilled it.
" I'm not used to using hands." he explains, and took a big sip of the drink. And Richard who saw all this wasn't impressed by this, he kept looking at him with that look that said I'm waiting for an explanation. And Carl seeing his face and expression falter and then explain.
" Fine, fine you won. I can't just show up in these functions walking and talking, people will ask how a lam guy started walking. And this-" And he pointed at Cecelia, and said in a casual profunctory manner.
" This is just a test run, I'm testing the product nothing more." And Richard still didn't say anything, his face remained the same, and seeing this he asked.
" What more do you want to know? I told you everything." And he said raising his hand.
" Everything?" He asked, and Carl replied in affirmative.
" Everything."
" Everything?" He asked again, and Carl nodded, acting innocent.
Richard, seeing this, handed him a folder, and inside that folder were images of the instruments and images of the bomb which was found in the sight, and a logo that was prominent in a wooden box. His company's logo. And Carl's expression didn't change after seeing this, and asked.
" I can see this, but what's the problem?"
" There is no problem, the evidence and data is very well hidden, even if someone tried hard enough, they might not get any answer or clue of what was going on. It was very well hidden, even I wouldn't have noticed, if you hadn't exposed it." And Carl flicked one more page, and inside was an image, an image of a similar bomb, but in way smaller scale and looked like it was being studied in a lab made out of glass.
" Does it look familiar, Mr Carlton Jr." And Carl's expression changed.
" My lab doesn't allow any bugs, you know." Said Carl lightly.
" Then you should check clearly." and Carl slammed the files shut.
" What do you want?" His expression changed to seriousness.
" You won't gonna deny that?" he asked, still calm.
" No need, if you already have the image and we are still talking, that can only mean you want something." They both were smart and Richard after hearing this, leaned forward, and asked.
" What game are you playing?"