Sgt. Mitchell walked with dignity, not uncommon for decorated war heroes like he. As he came to the titanium-barred door, he nodded to the security guard and pulled out his ID card, sliding it through the scanner and inputting his Military PIN number on the keypad next to it. The screen above the technology flashed green and made a short, positive-sounding beep. The titanium bars slid down, into the floor, and Mitchell stepped lightly over the bars before they had even finished retracting. Another guard on the other side placed his hand, palm facing Mitchell, in front of the sergeant.
"Retinal scan, sir. It's just standard protocol. You know how it is, someone could have swiped your ID and PIN," the guard said, hand resting easily on the grip of his nine millimeter.
Mitchell stepped forward. "Of course," he replied, and leaned down into the eyepieces. He saw the reflection of his own eyes in the mirror-like screen, and then a piercing green laser ran itself along the length of his eyeball.
"Just keep your head where it is until the scan is completed and your ID comes back, sir." Mitchell remained silent; he heard that familiar sound. "Alright sir, you may proceed." The guard saluted and Mitchell returned the salute, and then continued down the hallway. The walls of the hallway were a bright maroon, and the floors made of white linoleum; quite fitting of a headquarters. He made a left turn at the 'T' intersection, and came to a small room. Several heavily armed guards turned to face him as he stepped through the door-less opening and halted. A man with thinning salt and pepper hair wearing a Green Beret cap and dressed in fatigues approached the sergeant. He gripped a nine millimeter pistol in his right hand and a wireless handheld device in the left.
"Good morning Sergeant, please stretch your arms straight out for me and remain that way until I give you the all clear. Are you carrying any weapons on you, Sergeant?"
"No sir, I am not."
"Well then you won't mind if we run a quick check, then, now will you?" The man, a Master Chief, produced a toothy smile. He had a deep western accent; Mitchell hated dealing with officers that sounded or acted like un-intellectual morons. This man just happened to sound and act like one. The Master Chief held up the device and floated it around Sgt. Mitchell's torso. While he waited for that inevitable sound, Mitchell sighted the label of the manufacturer on the device: DELL. He laughed to himself on the inside. Back in 2008, the popular computing company had begun to dominate the technological side of the military. By 2012, they had the first working prototype of the M31, an upgraded version of the brand-spanking-new M29. The gun, although still a prototype, had improved upon the camera capabilities of the M29, along with adding vital elements to the gun that further integrated man, weapon, and armor. By 2015, the M31 was the standard-issue weapon to both Privates and Spec Ops teams alike. Dell had integrated itself fully into the way thee military functioned, improving upon the 'Future Warrior' developed for release in 2011. Now, every soldier's standard armor was a capsule-like suit that protected from bullets using the revolutionary Future Warrior's nano muscles and had various other technological marvels.
"All done. You may move on," the Master Chief said, breaking into Mitchell's mind. The pat down these days amounted to swiping that little device around a person's body; letting them go if they were clean, and sending a near-invisible controlled shock to them if they were not.
Mitchell saluted the Master Chief and moved on past the armed men. He pulled the sleeve of his arm up slightly, checking the time on his watch, and began down another hallway; took a left, took a right. He paused at a set of heavy oak doors, rapping on one of the panels before entering.
What greeted him was a large office room with a long, mahogany conference table, lined with padded, wheeled business chairs. In the chairs sat executive members of the military: four-star generals, governors, senators, and other high-ranking officials. Mitchell stepped forward and saluted. One of the generals stood and returned the salute.
"Please sit down, Sgt. Mitchell. We have a lot to talk about," he said, with a slight tone of amusement in his voice.