Her computer screen showed multiple chat windows with military contacts, all hitting dead ends when trying to verify Elijah's service record. "Nothing in the public database. " One Pentagon source wrote. "But that's not unusual for spec ops. Need higher clearance to access sealed files. " Another message popped up. "DOD records showing dishonorable discharge look legitimate on surface.
Something's wrong, though. Dates don't align with known SEAL Team deployments. " Naomi's hands flew across her keyboard, cross-referencing dates and locations. But Elijah's deepest cover missions had been deliberately obscured. No paper trail meant deniability for the government, and now vulnerability for him. Social media erupted with fresh outrage.
The same accounts that had supported Elijah hours ago now branded him a traitor. Local Facebook groups filled with angry posts about stolen valor. Twitter threads dissected his lies with brutal efficiency. Inside his command center, Elijah watched his reputation crumble in real time. The memory surfaced unwanted, a classified briefing room, 1994.
"Your record will show standard service only. " The CIA handler had explained. "No trace of special operations or covert missions. That's your protection and ours. If anything goes wrong, we never knew you. " He'd accepted it then. Black ops required black holes in the paperwork.
But now, those holes were being filled with poison. His phone buzzed. The local credit union had frozen his accounts pending federal investigation. The grocery store texted to cancel his regular supply delivery. The farm equipment repair shop requested immediate return of borrowed tools.
The community was turning quick as a summer storm. Deputy Kyle Mercer's encrypted message carried more bad news. They're manipulating classified gaps in your file, inserting false disciplinary reports where records are sealed. Can't prove they're fake without exposing real missions. Naomi called, her voice tight with frustration.
I've got sources in three branches of service. They all hit classification walls. Without official confirmation of your actual missions, we can't disprove these forgeries. The missions are still classified, Elijah said quietly. They'll stay that way for another decade at least.
Damn it, Elijah. There must be someone who can verify. My team is scattered. Half are still active duty. The others He paused, remembering faces lost to time and combat.
They can't help without exposing ongoing operations. Through his security feeds, Elijah watched Sheriff Kerns working the crowd, playing the role of disappointed patriot. The performance was masterful. Righteous anger mixed with sad head shaking. He'd planned this ambush perfectly.
News helicopters circled overhead, filming the farm from every angle. Their cameras caught glimpses of security measures that now seemed sinister rather than defensive. Local coverage painted each detail in the worst possible light. Military-grade surveillance equipment discovered on civilian property. Underground facilities raise questions about illegal activities.