Flicking his cigar into a nearby ashtray, Walter's amusement gave way to disgust. "Pathetic. I can't believe they're so weak they couldn't handle such a trivial matter. And now they've dragged the world's attention to their petty squabbles."
Slowly rising, Walter's tall frame cast a looming shadow across the room. He moved toward the window, clasping his hands behind his back as the rain painted streaks across the glass, mirroring the unrest that was brewing in Indra.
"If this Indra situation worsens, the fools preaching conspiracy theories will start crawling out of their holes," he muttered, his tone laced with disdain. He turned abruptly to face the secretary. "Send them a message. Tell them to clean up this mess immediately. If they don't, the Federation will intervene—and they won't like how we will resolve things."
The secretary nodded hastily, retreating from the room as though fleeing a predator.
