Chapter 5 - The Challenge in the Corner
Before Vance could respond, a heavy chair scraped against the floor across the room. A tall, broad-shouldered man with the silver oak leaves of a Lieutenant Colonel pinned invisibly to his professional DNA stood up from a corner booth. It was Marcus Vance’s direct counterpart—Lieutenant Colonel David Thorne, commander of the 1st Battalion, and the man widely rumored to be the source of half the administrative rot rotting the regiment from the inside out.
Thorne walked over with a slow, predatory swagger, holding a half-empty glass of scotch. He was younger than me by two years, built like a tight end, and wore the arrogant smirk of someone who believed the regiment belonged to his personal fiefdom.
"Well, well," Thorne drawled, stopping two paces away and looking me up and down with deliberate, insulting slowness. "So this is the legendary Ellison they’ve been whispering about in the corridors. Must admit, when they said our new savior was arriving, I pictured someone... taller. Or at least wearing a uniform."
Vance instantly stiffened beside me, his hands curling into fists. "Watch your mouth, Thorne. You’re speaking to the regimental commander."
Thorne held up a placating hand, though his eyes remained ice-cold and mocking. "Relax, Thomas. Just making conversation. We get a lot of lost tourists in here looking for the wine bar down the block. Easy mistake to make when you walk in dressed like a civilian on a date."
The bar went dead silent again. This wasn't a misunderstanding anymore; this was an open declaration of war. Thorne was testing me in front of thirty of his loyalists, trying to establish dominance before the sun even rose on my first official day of command.
I didn't flinch. I didn't raise my voice. I simply set my glass down, turned sideways on the stool, and looked straight into Thorne’s arrogant eyes.
"You must be Thorne," I said smoothly.
"The one and only," he smiled.
May you like
"Your maintenance logs for the last three quarters crossed my desk in Washington last Tuesday," I continued, my tone conversational. "Every single vehicle in your battalion is operating at a sub-60% readiness rate. Your supply officer is currently under investigation for missing fuel requisitions, and your last three morning reports were falsified to hide a training accident."
Thorne’s smile vanished so fast it was like someone had slapped it off his face. The color drained from his cheeks, leaving him staring at me as if I had just pulled a grenade out of my pocket.
