"The reserves?" the colonel asked making no effort to hide his disgust. "They sent us the reserves." He turned to face the man standing in front of his desk. "Look um Jack, I am sure your unit it fine and all but what we need are real soldiers not weekend warriors."
Through it all Major Jack Benson had remained silent. He had not even stiffened when the Colonel had used his first name instead of the proper title. He had not let his eyes stray from the position of attention as the shadows slid across the Colonel Millers desk. He did turn back as the glass from the picture window behind Colonel Miller imploded and three black suited, reserve, special forces men locked the room down.
These prompts are part of our Tuesday Fiction Contest. For more information Check out the rules and of course visit Flying Island Press
