Our protagonist has returned to his native Vietnam, finding himself imprisoned in a reeducation camp. There, he's compelled to recount his tale repeatedly, a narrative that we, as viewers, have witnessed being recounted throughout the series. But what's the purpose of it all? Why endure all that espionage, secrecy, and reluctant murder, only to end up tortured by the same people you purportedly fought for? Despite all obstacles, the Captain remains steadfast in his beliefs, but his cause seems indifferent.
On the eve of their suicidal mission into Vietnam, the men gather at a notorious bar known as the Hell Hole to celebrate. There, CIA agent Claude (played by Robert Downey Jr.) confides to the Captain that he's aware of his confession to Sonny. How? Claude had the journalist's entire apartment bugged. "What did you expect?" Claude taunts. "This is what we do." Despite this revelation, Claude offers him an escape route. He pours a substance into the Captain's drink, promising it will render him incapacitated for the next forty-eight hours, effectively removing him from the mission. But the Captain refuses to consume it. "It's your funeral, pal," Claude warns him.
The following morning, carnage reigns as all but the Captain and Bon (portrayed by Fred Nguyen Khan) are slain. They're whisked away to the camp, where they're misleadingly labeled as "educatees" rather than prisoners—a farce betrayed by the shackles around their ankles. The Commandant continues to tinker with their story, demanding the absolute truth from the Captain while excising a segment where the soldiers brutally assault Bon for claiming to be a proud member of the former Army of the Republic of Vietnam.
Overseeing the Commandant is the Commissar, the true power broker in this place. He wears a terrifying white balaclava with a single eyehole, a ghastly reminder of the napalm attack that disfigured him and left him addicted to morphine on the Day of Liberation. After a year of solitary confinement and writing, the Captain finally presents his narrative to the Commissar, who is revealed to be his old friend Man (played by Duy Nguyễn). "Everything about our home is different than I had imagined," the Captain laments.
Seated in the electric chair, the Captain now spends his days trapped in an endless cycle of agony. Man repeatedly pleads with the Captain to confess, yet he insists that his tale holds no further secrets. "You wove coded messages between the lines," Man insists. "I seek the memories that lurk beneath the surface, hidden in the crevices of your mind." They subject him to repeated shocks, his eyelids forcibly kept open with tape. It's a cruel and seemingly futile exercise, yet Man claims that his mercy is vast compared to what could have transpired had he not been in charge.
Eventually, the relentless torture forces the Captain to dredge up a fleeting memory of his father. It's the ultimate antagonist in Downey's narrative—a French priest who sexually abused his mother in Vietnam. His deep-seated resentment towards this man is the reason why Downey portrays every character embodying a white authority figure. Whether it's Claude, the professor, the amiable politician, or the director, the Captain both yearns for their approval and harbors disdain for them at every turn.
