Chapter 10 - THE AFTERMATH OF THE COURTROOM
The lobby of the courthouse was a war zone, packed with news vans, cameras, and microphones from every major network.
"General! Can you comment on the classified nature of the officer's service?" a reporter shouted, pushing a microphone forward.
General Vance kept walking, his eyes fixed on the horizon, his expression as unreadable as a locked vault door.
The Officer walked beside him, her navy blue uniform a beacon of strength amidst the swirling, chaotic, and loud frenzy.
"No comment," the General said once, his voice stopping the reporters in their tracks, the authority still radiating around him.
They reached the black armored vehicle waiting at the curb, the driver standing at attention, his face stern and alert.
The Officer slid into the back seat, the display case in her lap, her hand resting on the medals like a prayer.
As the car pulled away, she looked back at the courthouse, seeing the faint silhouette of the Accuser at the window.
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The fixer looked small, broken, and utterly defeated, her crimson suit now a symbol of her spectacular, public failure.
The Officer felt a surge of cold satisfaction, the first real peace she had felt since the mission in the Levant.
