"Please state your identity for the record."

Military uniform wrapped tight around him, the soldier leaned forward in his seat, drawing himself a little closer to the microphone. "Captain Owen Mercer, United States Air Force."

"And your codename?"

There was a brief moment of hesitation before he replied.

"Boomerang," he said eventually.

Discomfort formed a knot in his stomach. Boomerang. The legacy of of a man he'd never met; of a nationality he'd never known. George Harkness. Captain Boomerang. Australian. Father.

"Thank you, Captain."

The interrogator, the bureaucrat, the paper pusher from Washington, leafed through the freshly printed copy of the Captain's mission report. They had laptops, they had technology; they must have already seen a copy of the file before arriving. Even so, the reproduction in front of them was pristine: unread, and unused. A damned waste, frankly.

Eyes climbed from the document, and fixed on Mercer. "Please summarise, in your own words, the reason that this tribunal was called."

Owen's gaze moved between the three ranking individuals assembled to preside over this display bureaucratic redundancy and meddling scrutiny. Two of them understood: he could see it in their eyes. Colonel Werner Vertigo, a decorated Army officer and his direct superior, knew all too well that casualties and collateral damage were to be expected on a mission such as this. Agent Valentina Vostok meanwhile knew that there were times when such things were necessary during an operation like this.

The bureaucrat knew neither of those things; and frankly, he didn't seem like the person who would want to. All his type cared about was making sure that if there was any blame to be had, it was as far away from anyone important as it could possibly be.

"Two days ago," he explained slowly, carefully, "Squad Six was deployed under my command to disrupt a smuggling operation in Belle Reve, Louisiana. Intel suggested that the operation was supplying a terrorist cell known as Kobra. When we arrived however we discovered that the cell was far more heavily armed than intelligence suggested. The shipment, as well as the building containing it, was destroyed in a large explosion. At last count, I believe there were seventeen casualties, all of them confirmed hostiles."

His eyes narrowed ever so slightly. "In addition, a member of my team was captured. I presume that, in addition to ensuring that the government remains blameless in all this, you are here to tell me that I will not be permitted to mount a rescue."