The bright sun shone through the tall windows of the grand estate hall.
Light reflected off the clean marble floors and hit the pristine white walls.
A massive American flag hung quietly against the back of the spacious room.
Sergeant David Miller knelt on the polished floor beside Private Maya Lin.
He held a clean cloth and a small bottle of medical antiseptic tightly.
Maya winced slightly as David carefully wiped around a fresh cut on her upper arm.
Her uniform sleeve was torn from a recent tactical training drill in the yard.
David kept his hands steady while he tried to clean the wound gently.
He knew Maya never liked showing any pain or weakness in front of others.
She was one of the toughest soldiers assigned to the estate honor guard.
David pulled out a sharp utility tool to carefully slice away the damaged fabric.
The sharp edge cut cleanly through the thick cloth near her shoulder.
Maya gasped softly as the cool air hit the deep scratch on her arm.
She clamped her jaw shut tight to hold her composure in the room.
David paused for a second when the rest of the fabric peeled away.
Right above the fresh red wound, dark ink was visible on her pale skin.
It was a clear tattoo featuring Roman numerals that read IXX-II distinctly.
David froze in place and pulled his hands back from her arm instantly.
His breath hitched as he stared directly at the dark numerical symbol.
He had only seen that specific design on old classified military file photos.
It belonged to a legendary unit that disappeared over ten years ago overseas.
Maya tried to pull her sleeve down quickly, but David grabbed her wrist.
His eyes were wide with total shock and genuine confusion under the light.
He could not believe what he was looking at right in front of him.
Maya looked away toward the far wall, refusing to meet his direct gaze.
David lowered his voice as a cold chill ran down his nervous spine.
He demanded to know how she carried the mark of a fallen squad.
Before Maya could offer any explanation, heavy footsteps echoed down the grand corridor.
The solid brass doors swung open, letting in the sharp sound of boots.
Commanding Officer General Marcus Vance walked into the sunlit hall with heavy steps.
Three senior officers followed right behind him in a strict, formal line.
David stood up immediately and came to full attention before his commander.
Maya remained kneeling on one knee, holding her torn uniform sleeve closed.
General Vance scanned the bright room with a sharp and stern expression.
He noticed the blood on the floor and the sudden tension between them.
David saluted quickly while trying to keep his voice steady and calm.
He reported that he was simply tending to a soldier's minor wound.
General Vance stepped closer, his heavy gaze resting directly on Private Maya.