The Faded Shield
The fluorescent lights of the briefing room hummed with a low, electric buzz that seemed to drill directly into Elias Thorne’s left temple. He stood rigid, his service pistol holstered but his hand hovering near it, fingers twitching with a tremor he could not suppress. Across the long, steel-topped table, Director Vance did not look up from the tablet in his hands. "Your tactical report is a...
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