April 1945 — the Pacific War was drawing to an end, and the U.S. forces were closing in on the Japanese mainland.
At the same time, all ground troops in the Pacific theater were undergoing reorganization. However, Leo's special operations unit, which was part of the Marine Corps, was excluded from the restructuring plan.
General MacArthur had long coveted this elite force, and he personally approached Admiral Nimitz. Considering that he was soon to retire and that control of the Pacific would ultimately fall into MacArthur's hands, Nimitz — out of goodwill and for the sake of Leo and his men's future — agreed to transfer command of Leo's special unit to MacArthur.
Thus, without Leo's knowledge, the command of the force he had built with his own hands was handed over to MacArthur.
When Leo learned of this, his first instinct was to retire immediately. But he knew he was no longer alone — behind him stood a thousand brothers-in-arms who would be left directionless without him.
So he led his men to Manila, Philippines, where MacArthur's headquarters was located — and officially became one of "Emperor Mac's" soldiers.
Since the Japanese had mostly retreated to their homeland, the first few missions went rather smoothly.
Then, in June 1945, Leo's special unit received a mission codenamed Golden. The mission required them to simultaneously deploy to two locations — one, a valley twenty miles east of Manila, and the other, an island in the Philippine Sea.
Cautious as always, Leo tried to request more intelligence, but the Intelligence Department arrogantly turned him down.
"The General's orders are to be followed, not questioned," the officer said coldly.
Though uneasy, Leo eventually complied. The Japanese presence in the Philippines was believed to be weak — mostly remnants of old, sick, or wounded soldiers — and a soldier's duty was to obey.
Leo took his team east of Manila, while his deputy, Kentos, led a larger contingent to the island.
Upon arriving at the valley, Leo's team discovered a concealed Japanese military base. For a veteran like him, this seemed like a straightforward assault. Indeed, most Japanese forces had already evacuated Manila, leaving behind a fifty-man garrison.
But to Leo's surprise, the Japanese defenders fought with fanatical determination. After a grueling skirmish, Leo finally understood why.
At the lowest level of the base, he found a heavily secured vault. After forcing it open with explosives, rows upon rows of wooden crates were revealed.
When Leo pried one open, he immediately understood why this mission was codenamed Golden.
Inside the crates was gold — 99.9% pure, weighing at least 33 tons, valued at over forty million dollars.
At the back of the vault sat a desk with two encrypted documents.
Thanks to codebooks captured during the liberation of Manila, Leo managed to decode them. They revealed the origin of the treasure.
During World War II, the Japanese plundered vast amounts of gold and jewels across Southeast Asia. The spoils were so immense that there weren't enough ships to transport them back to Japan.
Thus were born Operation Yamashita Treasure and Operation Golden Lily.
The former, led by General Tomoyuki Yamashita, involved burying parts of the loot across the Philippines — particularly on the main island.
Leo's team had just discovered one of these caches.
But the second operation — Golden Lily — involved 175 additional hiding sites scattered throughout the Philippine archipelago.
As Leo reached the end of the document, his face went pale. The largest Golden Lily cache was located on the very island where his deputy Kentos had been sent.
Worse still, the intelligence described that island as a heavily fortified stronghold — far beyond what Kentos's detachment could handle.
Leo dropped everything and rushed back to Manila to dispatch a rescue team. But by the time they reached the island, it was too late.
Unaware of what awaited them, Kentos and his men had charged into a massive underground Japanese complex.
Despite their bravery and the heavy losses they inflicted, the Americans were overwhelmed. Almost the entire team was wiped out.
A dozen survivors, including Kentos, were captured and taken to an underground laboratory.
There, Japanese scientists injected them with pathogens and subjected them to unspeakable experiments — freezing, burning, and vivisection.
By the time Leo's reinforcements annihilated the garrison, his comrades had been tortured beyond recognition.
It was the bloodiest loss Leo's unit ever suffered — 60% of the thousand-man force perished.
When Leo confronted MacArthur, demanding to know why intelligence had been withheld, MacArthur sneered:
"I didn't trust grunts like you to resist the temptation of that much gold."
Before he could finish, Leo's PTSD triggered. He lunged forward and punched MacArthur square in the face.
"Boss? Boss?"
Joseph's voice snapped Leo out of his memories.
Now, decades later, they were back on that same island — inside a sealed control room of the old Japanese base.
Leo, Joseph, and the surviving senior officers — Sean, Daniel, Corondo, Walter — all stood together, eyes fixed on one of the many monitors before them.
The screen showed the water cell. Inside it was MacArthur, now old, raving and screaming in the dark.
Leo didn't respond — not yet. He had a "program" prepared for the general, one far more fitting.
When MacArthur finally passed out from exhaustion and hunger, Leo said quietly,
"Begin the next step."
Joseph nodded. He and Daniel entered the chamber, injected MacArthur with a sedative, and carried him to one of the old laboratory rooms.
There, Joseph drew another syringe — filled with a murky fluid. It was the same virus the Japanese had once injected into captured soldiers.
After the injection, they left him there.
Moments later, MacArthur began to convulse violently. The pain woke him. Fever surged through his body. He touched his arm, finding a puncture mark and an empty syringe.
When he switched on a flashlight, he froze.
The symbol printed on the syringe — the biohazard emblem from the wartime lab — told him exactly where he was: the same underground base where 613 of Leo's men had died.
Realization dawned.
"Leo! I know you can see me! I'm sorry! I was wrong! Please! Don't let me die — help me!"
No response.
As the infection spread, his body began to decay. When he scratched his itching leg, his skin came off in ribbons.
He stared in horror — his flesh was melting.
"Leo!" he shrieked. "I'm a five-star general! I'm a hero of America! You can't do this! You'll be a criminal!"
Silence.
Soon, his screams weakened.
Two figures in hazmat suits entered — Leo and Joseph.
"Help me…" MacArthur gasped before collapsing into unconsciousness.
"He's dreaming," Joseph said coldly.
Then he took another syringe — this time filled with adrenaline — and injected it.
No, it wasn't mercy. They needed him awake to experience every horror his victims had endured.
When MacArthur awoke, he found himself hanging from a hook in the incineration room — the same one where his soldiers had once burned Leo's men.
Around him, charred bodies dangled — the corpses of the comrades he'd betrayed.
Back then, when removing the treasure, MacArthur had ordered these bodies left hanging, as punishment for Leo's insolence.
For five long years, they'd remained there — until now.
"Comrades," Leo said softly, "we're going home."
He and his men gently lowered the blackened remains, placed them in prepared coffins, and draped each one with a flag.
No one else could ever know what had happened here.
Then Joseph reported, "Boss, the adrenaline's working. He's awake."
Leo's eyes hardened. "Then it's time to end this."
They returned to the base. Floodlights blazed.
MacArthur hung limply, terrified beyond words.
"Please… Leo… I'm sorry — for everything! For Manila! For the assassination attempts! For all of it! Please, I don't want to die!"
Leo said nothing. To curse him would be cheap.
He took the flamethrower from Joseph and pulled the trigger.
A torrent of fire engulfed MacArthur.
As the flames roared, Leo saw — or thought he saw — the souls of his fallen comrades rising, finally freed.
For the first time in years, his heart felt light.
"Thank you, Leo…"
A faint, familiar voice echoed in his mind — the voice of the young man he once was, the mischievous yet kind-hearted Leo from Lynchburg.
MacArthur's screams grew weaker… then stopped.
The self-proclaimed Emperor of the Pacific was no more.
"Should we take him down?" Joseph asked.
Leo shook his head. "No. The charges are set. This place dies with him."
As their helicopter lifted off, the countdown reached zero.
Boom!
A mushroom cloud rose — the island was gone.
By the time Leo and his men returned to Manila, the world was already hearing the morning's breaking news:
General Douglas MacArthur's plane crashed after takeoff from Hawaii. After two days of search and rescue, the U.S. government confirmed his death in an air disaster.
On January 20, 1953, Dwight D. Eisenhower took the oath of office as the 42nd President of the United States.
But as his new Cabinet list was unveiled, nearly every key position was filled by men aligned with one name — Valentino.
Everyone present understood: though the president had changed, the true power behind America's deep state remained the same — the 30-year-old world's richest man, Leo Valentino.
At the post-ceremony banquet, Eisenhower turned to his chief of staff.
"Mr. Valentino didn't attend?"
"He sends his apologies," came the reply. "A generous gift awaits you at your Miami villa."
"I see. He's… busy?"
"I assume he's gone west, sir."
But the chief of staff was wrong.
At that moment, Leo was in Lynchburg — saying goodbye to former President Truman.
"I thought you'd kill me, like the others," Truman said wryly.
"If you weren't a president, you'd already be dead. Go home, Truman. Don't ever show up again."
Truman stared at him, memories flooding back — their first meeting, their plans, the train tour that made him president.
He couldn't help wondering: if he hadn't crossed Leo, could he have won a second term?
After Truman left, Leo wandered the familiar streets of Lynchburg until he reached his old house — the one he'd rented in 1945 and later bought.
It hadn't changed. He'd kept it that way for a reason — a monument to memory.
As he gazed at it, a gentle voice called, "Leo?"
He turned. There stood Emily, smiling in a floral dress, the evening sun glowing behind her — and holding their child's hand.
For a moment, time folded back to 1945.
"I saw you leave alone," she said. "Come on — I have a surprise for you."
Hand in hand, they walked to the town square.
Soon they arrived at the old noodle restaurant.
Emily smiled, opened the door, and gestured for him to enter.
Inside, behind the counter, Noodles was awkwardly polishing glasses.
"Haven't done this in a while," he said with a grin.
Leo smiled too — he already understood the surprise.
At the old tables sat Joseph, Daniel, Desmond, Kevin, Charlie… all the brothers, exactly where they used to sit, smiling back at him.
This — this was where the dream began.