The ride back to headquarters gave her time to consider the impossible situation she found herself in.
'If I report what I saw, I'm either having a psychotic break or providing evidence that our entire understanding of this war is fundamentally wrong. A dead operative with gray skin and supernatural abilities? They'd have me in psychiatric evaluation before the words left my mouth.'
The city passed by outside the vehicle's windows—late evening traffic, neon signs, pedestrians who had no idea how close they'd come to having another vampire nest establish itself in their neighborhood.
'But if I don't report it, if Kaine really is alive and I stay silent... What has he become? What happened to him during those eighteen months? And why did he disappear instead of coming home?'
The questions circled through her mind like predators, each one raising implications she wasn't prepared to confront.
'The smart play is to maintain the cover story until I can find out what's really happening. Take credit for the vampire kills, accept whatever punishment Steele has planned, and figure out the truth on my own terms.'
Because if the person who'd saved those recruits really was Kaine Cross, she needed to know what he'd become before she decided whether to protect him or report him.
And if it wasn't Kaine—if something else was wearing his face—she needed to know that too.
-----
The headquarters building came into view, its art deco facade looking even more weathered in the harsh street lighting. Inside, the hallways carried the institutional smell of old coffee, tobacco smoke, and industrial cleaning products.
Her footsteps echoed off worn linoleum as she made her way toward the elevator that would take her to Colonel Steele's office, carrying with her the weight of secrets that could destroy everything she'd spent eight years building.
Or save the life of someone who'd once meant more to her than regulations should have allowed.
Inside, the hallways carried the institutional smell of old coffee, tobacco smoke, and the kind of industrial cleaning products used in government buildings that hadn't been renovated since the 1980s.
Other Shadowguard personnel were present, even at this late hour—night shift operators, administrative staff processing reports, field teams returning from or preparing for operations. Their reactions to her presence were mixed and telling.
Some stared with obvious shock, probably having heard preliminary reports about the warehouse district engagement. Seven vampire kills, including multiple high-generation hostiles, was the kind of performance that generated legends within an organization that dealt with supernatural threats on a daily basis.
Others looked away, their expressions carefully neutral in the way that suggested they'd heard about her unauthorized deployment and were making calculated decisions about professional association.
A few watched her with undisguised envy—career soldiers who'd spent years fighting monsters without achieving the kind of tactical victory she was being credited with tonight.
The elevator ride to the third floor felt longer than usual, giving her more time to consider her options and their potential consequences. By the time the doors opened, she'd made her decision about how to handle the conversation with Colonel Steele.
The hallway leading to his office was empty except for the occasional night shift personnel moving between administrative offices.
Her footsteps were muffled by carpet that had probably been installed during the Carter administration and definitely hadn't been cleaned since the Bush administration.
She knocked on Steele's door twice—the standard military courtesy that everyone in the organization followed regardless of their actual opinion of the man behind the desk.
"Enter."
Colonel Marcus Steele sat behind his desk like a spider in the center of a web built from cigarette smoke and bureaucratic malice.
"Major Gwen." His voice carried the kind of cold tone that suggested this conversation was going to be unpleasant for everyone involved. "Please, remain standing. This won't take long."
'Of course not. He's not planning to give me time to explain or defend myself.'
"You directly violated a specific deployment order." Steele took a long drag from his cigarette, letting the smoke curl around his words like a physical manifestation of his displeasure. "You abandoned your assigned position, interfered with an authorized operation, and placed yourself in an engagement zone without proper backup or support."
Gwen stood at attention, her hands clasped behind her back, her expression carefully neutral.
She'd been through enough military disciplinary procedures to know that attempting to interrupt or defend herself at this stage would only make things worse.
"Do you have any idea what you've done?" Steele continued, his voice rising slightly as he warmed to his subject. "What the implications are of a senior officer deciding that orders are suggestions rather than commands?"
'I saved the lives of six recruits who would have died if I'd followed your orders.'
"The Shadowguard operates on discipline, Major. Chain of command. Trust that when a superior officer issues an order, that order will be followed regardless of personal opinion or tactical assessment." Another drag from the cigarette, more smoke joining the haze that seemed to permanently surround his desk. "Without that discipline, we're just another group of armed civilians playing soldier."
"But perhaps you think your recent tactical success exempts you from normal military protocol." Steele leaned back in his chair, studying her with the kind of calculated assessment that suggested he was looking for weaknesses. "Seven vampire kills, including three third-generation hostiles. Quite impressive for a solo engagement."
'If you only knew.'
"That kind of performance might make some officers think they're above following orders. That they can make their own decisions about deployment and engagement without considering the broader strategic picture."
Gwen continued to stand at attention, letting him build to whatever point he was trying to make. She'd learned years ago that the best way to handle Colonel Steele's disciplinary sessions was to remain silent and let him exhaust himself with his own rhetoric.
"Here's what's going to happen now, Major." Steele crushed his cigarette in the overflowing ashtray with more force than was strictly necessary. "Word is going to spread throughout the organization about tonight's engagement. About how a senior officer was present at a scene where multiple recruits were killed and wounded despite the successful elimination of hostile targets."
'Is that what this is about? Public relations?'
"The optics are problematic, Major. When civilians hear that even with experienced leadership present, young soldiers are still dying in large numbers, it sends the wrong message about organizational competence."
'Young soldiers are dying because you send them against experienced vampires without proper support or preparation.'
"Your unauthorized presence at that scene has disrupted carefully planned operational parameters." Steele lit another cigarette, his movements sharp and precise with barely controlled anger. "Parameters designed to achieve specific strategic objectives that are apparently beyond your comprehension."
The implications of that statement hung in the air like the cigarette smoke, and for the first time during the conversation, Gwen felt genuine curiosity override her professional restraint.
"What strategic objectives, sir?"
Steele stopped in mid-drag, his eyes sharpening as he realized he'd revealed more than he'd intended. For several seconds, the only sound in the office was the whisper of air conditioning and the distant hum of fluorescent lights.
"That," he said finally, "is not your concern, Major."
'But it is my concern. Because whatever those objectives were, they required the death of twelve recruits.'
"Your concern is following orders. Your concern is maintaining discipline within the chain of command. Your concern is ensuring that this kind of insubordination never happens again."
Steele's voice dropped to the kind of quiet intensity that suggested genuine threat rather than bureaucratic posturing. "Because if it does happen again, Major, you will regret it in ways that will make your current situation seem pleasant by comparison."
'There it is. The implicit threat that everyone in the organization knows about but nobody discusses openly.'
"Do I make myself clear, Major?"
"Perfectly clear, sir."
"Outstanding. You're dismissed."
Gwen snapped off a perfect salute, turned on her heel, and walked toward the door with the measured precision of someone who'd just received orders they had no intention of following.
The door closed behind her with the same squeak it had opened with, leaving Colonel Steele alone with his cigarettes and his thoughts.
'Well, shit.'
'Gwen's presence at the scene destroyed months of careful planning.'
But looking at the situation from another angle, there were potential advantages to be exploited. A senior officer eliminating seven high-level vampires in a single engagement was the kind of performance that generated positive attention from oversight committees and budget authorities.
The kind of success that could be leveraged into equipment upgrades, personnel expansion, and operational authority that had been denied for years.
'The question is whether the advantages outweigh the disruption to longer-term strategic planning.'
Steele lit another cigarette and leaned back in his chair, studying the water stains on his ceiling.
The Shadowguard was dying. Not from vampire attacks or operational casualties, but from bureaucratic strangulation and willful governmental neglect.
'Something has to change. Either we get the resources we need to do our job properly, or we lose the ability to do it at all.'
The warehouse district massacre would have generated the kind of public outrage that forced political action.
'But maybe there are other ways to achieve the same objectives.'
Colonel Marcus Steele sat in his office, surrounded by cigarette smoke and decades of accumulated cynicism, and began planning futures that some people wouldn't live to see.
Again.
---
[Present day]
Gwen stood up because one of her contacts had just called. And they reported sightings of a man with a large scythe on his back and another weird looking man walking beside him.
"I'm coming Kaine,"