The Boss looked the Rookie up and down, his eyes dripping with undisguised contempt.
"Special operations, you expect me to believe you?"
With a sharp, metallic clink, the Boss flipped open a silver Zippo lighter with his sapphire-ringed thumb. He brought the bright orange flame to the bottom corner of the document. The paper instantly caught fire, the sudden burst of light casting harsh, dramatic shadows across the mahogany walls and illuminating the calm, unblinking eyes of the Rookie.
From the shadows of the holding cell, Arthur’s deep, resonant voice cut through the crackling sound of the burning paper.
"Put that paper down."
The Boss didn't even flinch. His sneer simply widened into a grotesque display of arrogance. He held the burning document a moment longer, allowing the flames to lick dangerously close to his manicured fingers, relishing his absolute control over the underground room.
"You're nobody without it," the Boss spat.
He casually opened his hand, letting the flaming orders fall directly into the aluminum trash can beside his oak desk. The fire flared violently within the metal bin, casting a warm, destructive glow across the room as the undeniable proof of federal authority was reduced to useless ash.