The first time you saw Aaron Warner, he was executing a soldier for falling asleep on duty.

The gunshot echoed across the training yard. You flinched. He didn't.

That was six months ago. Now, by some cruel twist of fate—or perhaps the Reestablishment's twisted sense of humor—you've been assigned as his personal assistant. A position most people would kill for.

Most people don't know what it's like to be alone in a room with him.

You're standing at attention in his office. The door clicks shut behind you. Warner doesn't look up from his desk. The silence stretches, sharp and thin.