Sergeant Cole spat words at her, voice sharp with hostility. He didn’t ask her name — he only saw her skin, and that was enough for his contempt 😱 😱

General Regina M. Cal froze, more shocked by the disrespect than by the insult itself. The look on his face erased any dignity from the moment.

“Excuse me,” she said, even and controlled. “Is there a problem, officer?” Officer Henkins paced around the car, sarcasm dripping from every sentence. “The problem,” he said, “is that you’re sitting in a vehicle that clearly isn’t yours, dressed up like you belong in uniform.”

He glanced at her insignia with a mocking smile. “Pentagon badges? What are those—party props?” Regina’s heart hammered. Two men, blind to her credentials and brazen enough to jeer.

“My name is General Regina M. Cal. You’re com—” “Shut up!” Cole snapped, snapping open his cuffs. “I don’t care who you claim to be. This car’s stolen. You’re under arrest.” They tore her from the vehicle. Cold steel bit into her wrists as they forced her down. “Don’t cry,” Henkins hissed, leaning close.

“Maybe they’ll put you to work in the hoosegow. Give me your phone.” He rifled through her SUV and produced her government-issued iPhone, flashing a triumphant grin. “A government phone? Really.

Who gave you that—did you earn it?” Cole barked out a harsh laugh. “Wouldn’t surprise me if you were one of those diversity hires,” he sneered, tightening the cuffs until they dug into her skin.

Regina kept her gaze lowered, her voice calm despite the tremor. “You’re in violation of federal law,” she said …..

Regina’s words landed like a spark in a room filled with gas. The silence that followed lasted less than a breath before Cole’s lip curled into a smirk. “Violation of federal law? Lady, you really don’t know when to quit.”

His grip tightened on her arm as he dragged her toward their cruiser, the metal edge of the doorframe catching her hip. Henkins trailed behind, still pawing through her belongings like a hyena at a carcass, pulling out papers, her wallet, even the laminated credentials that bore the Pentagon seal.

He lifted the badge between two fingers, his laughter bubbling up like acid. “Oh, this is good. She’s really committed to the bit. Look, Cole, she even has the hologram on it.” He flicked it with his thumb. “Damn good fake.”

Regina inhaled, her lungs tight. She had faced battlefield interrogations in foreign lands, had endured the chaos of insurgent raids, but never had she been so deeply shaken as she was in this absurd scene—two supposed officers of the law treating her as though her entire life, her career, her sacrifices, were nothing but costume jewelry.

“You’re digging your own grave,” she said, her voice steady but edged with steel. “That badge isn’t fake. That phone isn’t stolen. And if you don’t let me go right now, the consequences will outlive your careers.”

Cole sneered, leaning close enough that his breath scalded her ear. “You think anybody’s gonna believe you? Out here? We’re the law. Not your Pentagon, not your fancy badges, not your fairy tales. Out here, you’re just another liar with a big mouth.” He shoved her down into the back seat of the cruiser, the cuffs cutting deeper as she twisted.

The door slammed shut with a metallic finality.

Inside the car, Regina forced herself to breathe. Panic clawed at her throat, but panic would not serve her. She scanned the interior: the partition dividing front and back, the radio clipped into the dash, the faint glow of a bodycam light on Henkins’ chest. That light. If it was recording, every word, every shove, every sneer—they had already sealed their own fate.

“Where are we taking her?” Henkins asked as he slid behind the wheel.

“Station,” Cole grunted. “We’ll book her, toss her in holding. Let her explain her fake stories there.”

Henkins chuckled. “By the time anyone checks, she’ll already be marked as some nutcase. No one’s gonna vouch for her.”

Regina leaned forward, her voice cutting through the mesh of the partition like a blade. “I wouldn’t count on that.”

The words silenced them for a moment. Cole’s eyes flicked to the mirror, locking onto hers. For the first time, she saw uncertainty crack the smug veneer. But he covered it with a bark of laughter. “Sit back, lady. Your act’s over.”

The cruiser rolled forward, its sirens dark, its tires grinding gravel into the night. Regina replayed every second in her mind, cataloguing details with a soldier’s precision: the time, the location, the badge numbers barely visible on their uniforms, the names they had spit at each other. She would remember everything. She had to.

When they reached the station, the fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, sterile and sharp. The officers pulled her out, marching her inside like a trophy. The desk sergeant barely glanced up as Cole announced, “Brought in a fraud. Claims she’s some Pentagon general. Had a stolen SUV, fake badge, fake phone.”

The sergeant sighed, his pen scratching paper. “Another one? Put her in holding.”

Regina lifted her chin. “Call General Donovan at the Pentagon. Code Black verification. He’ll confirm my identity.”

Her calm delivery halted the sergeant’s pen mid-stroke. His eyes flicked up, brows narrowing. Cole immediately interjected, “Don’t listen to her. She’s a con. Probably memorized some random names online.”

But the sergeant wasn’t convinced. He studied her with the detached suspicion of a man who had seen a thousand liars—and the rare truth-teller. “Donovan, huh?” He picked up the phone, hesitating. “What’s the number?”

“Secure line,” Regina replied firmly. “Pentagon direct.” She rattled off a sequence that only an insider could know.

The pause stretched long, broken only by the faint hum of the lights. Cole shifted uncomfortably, but his arrogance was still intact. “She’s bluffing,” he muttered.

Then the sergeant dialed. The silence on the other end lasted only a few seconds before Regina’s name thundered back through the line. The sergeant’s eyes widened. His face drained of color. “Yes, sir. Yes, she’s here.”

Cole froze. Henkins’ smirk faltered.

When the sergeant hung up, the air in the room had changed entirely. He rose to his feet, his chair scraping back. “Release her. Now.”

Cole stammered. “But—sir—she—”

“Now!” the sergeant barked, his voice cracking like a whip. He glared at the two officers, his jaw set in stone. “You just laid hands on a decorated general. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

The cuffs came off, the cold metal leaving red welts on her wrists. Regina rubbed them slowly, her gaze fixed on Cole and Henkins. For the first time, they looked smaller—men stripped of their bravado, their confidence unraveling under the weight of their mistake.

Regina straightened her uniform, reclaiming every ounce of dignity they had tried to strip from her. Her voice was quiet, yet it carried through the room like thunder. “You should both pray that what happens next is just disciplinary. Because if it were up to me, your badges would be ashes.”

Neither man could look her in the eye.

Moments later, two black SUVs screeched to a halt outside the station. Pentagon security detail poured in, their presence swallowing the room whole. One of them handed Regina her phone, her badge, her papers—all returned with reverence.

“General Cal,” the lead agent said, bowing his head slightly. “We apologize for the delay. Orders are to escort you immediately to D.C. Command.”

She nodded, her expression unreadable. But before she turned to leave, she paused in front of Cole and Henkins. She studied them in silence, long enough for them to feel the full weight of her gaze. “You mistook authority for power,” she said finally. “And that mistake will follow you.”

With that, she walked out, the doors closing behind her like a gavel striking judgment.

The ride back to D.C. was silent, but inside Regina, a storm churned. She thought of every soldier she had fought beside, every life she had risked to defend the flag, every sacrifice she had made in silence. And yet, here she was—reduced to a target of scorn by the very people sworn to uphold the law.

But she also knew something deeper: this night would not be forgotten. The bodycams, the phone call, the sergeant’s startled face—it was all evidence. Evidence of a rot that had crept into the very heart of the system.

And Regina M. Cal was not a woman who let rot go unchallenged.

By the time the SUVs rolled into Pentagon grounds, her decision was made. She would not bury this incident. She would not let it vanish into paperwork and whispers. She would make it a reckoning. Not for herself—but for every soldier, every officer, every citizen who had been treated as less because of ignorance or hate.

As she stepped out, the night air crisp against her skin, Regina straightened her shoulders. The ordeal was over, but the battle was just beginning. And this battle would not be fought on foreign soil—it would be fought here, at home, where it mattered most.

Her scars throbbed under the skin, but her resolve burned brighter. She had been humiliated, dismissed, nearly erased. Yet from that darkness came clarity. She knew what she had to do.

General Regina M. Cal was going to war—not with guns or soldiers, but with truth, justice, and the unshakable conviction that no one had the right to strip another of their dignity.

And this was a war she intended to win.