"Wait." Vance's hand shot up, stopping him. A cruel smile played at the corner of his mouth. "Actually, I've changed my mind. Stay."
"I want General Thornton to see you. I want him to see the kind of people who claim to be veterans these days. The kind of people who wrap themselves in our flag while contributing nothing to society."
The room had gone completely silent. Even the catering staff had frozen in place.
"You know what really disgusts me?" Vance circled Marcus slowly, like a predator. "Men like you make real veterans look bad. Every time someone sees a homeless man claiming to be military, it cheapens the sacrifice of those who actually served with honor. You're not just failing yourself, you're failing everyone who ever wore the uniform."
Marcus sat back down slowly. His eyes fixed on a spot on the far wall, somewhere beyond the room, beyond the base, beyond Oklahoma entirely. His breathing remained steady, in through the nose, out through the mouth, a technique he'd learned thirty years ago in Ranger School. A technique that kept him calm when mortar rounds fell close enough to shake your teeth.
No response.
Vance leaned in again. "What? No war stories? No tales of heroism? Nothing?"
He straightened and addressed the room. "This is why I maintain strict protocols, ladies and gentlemen. Let your guard down, let your standards slip, and this is what walks through your door. Weakness, failure, a cautionary tale."
Master Sergeant Davis's jaw muscles worked furiously, but he held his tongue. Sarah Mitchell had tears streaming down her cheeks, her hands balled into fists. The young lieutenants stared at their shoes.
And Marcus Reeves sat perfectly still, his thumb unconsciously rubbing the faded Phantom Six patch on his jacket. His mind was somewhere far away, somewhere cold and dark, where he'd once called in air strikes with a whisper while twenty meters from enemy positions, where he'd carried wounded men through hostile territory for three days straight, where his call sign meant something that made hardened soldiers stand a little straighter.
The sound of boots in the hallway made everyone turn. Heavy, measured steps approached the auditorium doors.
"That's the general." Vance's face lit up with anticipation. He smoothed his uniform, checked his collar, and positioned himself to greet his distinguished visitor. "Now you'll see what real leadership looks like, people. Watch and learn."
The doors opened.