In the cramped confines of Interrogation Room B, Marcus paced like a caged predator. His captain, Captain Thomas Miller, stood near the door with his arms crossed, sweating through his uniform shirt. "Marcus, what the hell was that out in the lobby?" Miller hissed in a harsh whisper. "You just laid hands on someone holding high-level military clearance right in front of a Naval command staff! Do you have any idea how bad that looks on the lobby cameras?"
"She's bluffing, Cap!" Marcus barked, wiping sweat from his forehead. "Look at her! She's dressed like a street kid. Those IDs are fake. She was asking questions about the warehouse raid from six months ago—the one where we processed the surplus containers. If she starts digging around, she's going to pull down the whole precinct. I handled it the way we always handle threats!"
Miller bit his lip, his eyes darting toward the mirror. "Well, the Naval officers are outside waiting for the federal magistrate to verify her badges. If those cards light up green on the DOD database, your assault is going to be the least of our problems." Unbeknownst to both men, the lobby camera feed was no longer routing solely to the internal precinct server; an encrypted bypass protocol had triggered the moment Maya’s badges hit the floor, streaming the entire incident directly to an off-site federal server.
By late afternoon, the official narrative inside the station had already begun to take shape. Marcus had drafted a preliminary arrest report claiming Maya Carter was a mentally unstable trespasser who had aggressively lunged at officers, forcing him to use necessary restraint. Captain Miller backed the report, eager to shield his star sergeant and prevent federal scrutiny into the precinct's off-the-books operations.
Marcus walked down to the evidence locker carrying Maya's confiscated leather bag, intending to log it in and quietly search for any notes or recording devices she might have brought with her. He unzipped the main compartment and pulled out a thick manila folder labeled Project Aegis. As he flipped through the first few pages, his heart dropped. Among the detailed manifests of seized military hardware were internal police logs, bank transfer receipts, and personal photos. Plastered across the top of a confidential internal memo was a high-resolution photograph of Marcus himself, taken three years ago at a private shipping terminal in Norfolk. Attached to the photo was a sticky note in clean handwriting: Target identified. Proceed with caution.