In a quiet naval base office, the sharp scent of ink and paper lingered. A stack of documents lay neatly on the desk, each stamped with urgency. Behind them sat a young man, no older than his mid-twenties, yet carrying the weight of command in the cold sharpness of his gaze. In front of the desk there was a name plate, written with the word Fleet Admiral: Damian Holt.
A genius of the century who graduated with flying colors from the naval academy, shortly after he officially joined the navy and was given command of a patrol boat. Through which a series of events occurred, promoting him to where he is.
Some argued that it was pure luck while others believed it was the genius of the young officer.
The man placed down the document and sighed, he stood up and went to a nearby table, where rows of various coffee brands and various equipment for coffee making. After brewing himself a coffee he smelled the refreshing aroma and took a sip.
He looked towards and above the entrance where he noticed the time. It was 1:35 am very late into the night or more so early in the morning. Sitting in the nearby sofa as he recalled the documents he read earlier he massage his temple.
"They're causing trouble again" he said with a sigh.
"Involving innocent people for something so small"
"This is due for court martial" said with a serious expression.
standing up he suddenly felt a wave of drowsiness. Placing his hand in the sofa to balance himself, he then sank back on the sofa still drowsy. Placing down his cup, he lead back wards, closed his eyes.
Not knowing that was maybe the last time he was on his office…