Chapter 120: When Romance Meets Protocol
Leonard stepped out of Tejani's office, and the weariness on his face was evident even through his mask. The sheer mental exhaustion he felt was unlike anything he had ever endured before. Endless requests, ethical reminders, and torrents of information, he felt as if his brain was about to burst.
Graves, walking beside him, observed his state and asked, "Boss, would you like to rest before we depart?"
Leonard shook his head immediately. "No, we're leaving now. If I stay here any longer, who knows what kind of long, tedious meeting I'll have to sit through next. Prepare my escort."
The two continued down the corridor, followed closely by four Resh-1 operators. Graves gave a quick nod and relayed the orders to the rest of Resh-1.
Moments later, a notification came through Graves' headset. He turned to Leonard, his voice tinged with a hint of curiosity. "Boss, the detachment assigned to protect your mother has informed me that she's headed to your house for a short break. Would you like us to make a stop there?"
Leonard paused for a moment, then nodded. "Alright, I miss my mother. A little rest before I enter my training period would do me some good."
Graves' eyes seemed to light up behind his visor. "It's official? You're going to start training?"
Leonard smiled faintly and confirmed, "Yes. Until the global meeting of anomalous groups next month, I'll be dedicating my time to training. With the O5 Council here now, many of the ongoing matters are fortunately out of my hands and can be delegated to them."
The group entered an elevator, ascending in silence. When they stepped out, they found themselves near the manor's main stairway. Exiting the building, they walked down the pathway to their waiting transport.
They boarded the same helicopter, the rotors already spinning in anticipation. As the craft ascended into the sky, the first rays of dawn began to crest the horizon, bathing the world below in soft hues of gold and amber.
---
A few hours later, Leonard woke up to the sight of the secret tunnel speeding past his window. The tunnel connected Site-35 to Area-01, hidden beneath his house. He was seated in an unmarked black car, part of a convoy with one vehicle in front and two others trailing behind.
As the vehicle began to slow, the end of the tunnel came into view. The convoy came to a stop, and an operator approached to open Leonard's door. Stepping out of the car, Leonard retrieved his access card and swiped it across a reader. The large door ahead slid open with a low hum, revealing the familiar corridors of Area-01.
Inside, a small group awaited him: several Resh-1 operators and the clone he had left behind to maintain his "normal" life. They all greeted him with a sharp salute.
Leonard asked, "Has my mother arrived yet?"
The leader of the detachment stepped forward. "Not yet, Boss. She's scheduled to arrive in the next ten minutes."
Leonard turned to his clone and gave him a light tap on the chest. "How have things been?"
The clone grinned. "For me? Things have been great. At least I get to go to school without worrying about the end of the world."
Leonard sighed. "Lucky bastard."
Stretching and letting out a yawn, he added, "I'll be sleeping in my room tonight."
With that, he made his way to the main elevator, accompanied by a few operators. They ascended to the entrance hidden in his basement, the familiar quiet hum of the machinery echoing around them.
A few minutes later, Leonard was relaxing in the living room, lazily watching TV, when he heard the unmistakable sound of keys turning in the lock. Immediately recognizing it, he got up and headed toward the front door.
As the door swung open, his mother walked in, smiling warmly. Leonard didn't waste a second; he walked straight to her and pulled her into a hug.
"Hi, Mom," he greeted with a smile.
"Hi, sweetheart," his mother replied, returning the hug and planting a kiss on his cheek. She pulled back slightly to get a better look at him. "Well, well… is it just me, or have you grown taller? Look at my baby, still growing!"
Leonard chuckled softly, scratching the back of his head. But then his eyes drifted toward the doorway, catching a shadow of movement. His mother noticed and turned around to follow his gaze.
Standing in the doorway was a man Leonard immediately recognized, Agent Basil Sias. The man entered with a friendly grin, casually adjusting his collar.
Leonard stared for a second, his confusion turning to exasperation as his mother stepped aside and took Basil's hand. She turned back toward Leonard with a beaming smile.
"Sweetheart, I'd like you to meet someone very special," she began. "This is Basil Sias, my new boyfriend! We met while I was traveling. Isn't he wonderful?"
Léonard: @#$%&!
He blinked, utterly dumbfounded. He raised a hand to his forehead, muttering under his breath, "This guy? Seriously?"
Basil, entirely unknown of Léonard identity, extended a hand to Leonard, grinning. "Nice to meet you, Leonard. Your mother's told me so much about you!"
Leonard crossed his arms, ignoring the handshake. "Oh, I'm sure she did," he said dryly.
What made this even worse was that Basil wasn't just any random guy, Leonard had personally chosen him to act as a liaison for the Foundation's partnership with the Nationale Gendastrerie. And now here he was, waltzing into his house as his mom's new boyfriend.
Léonard stood motionless for a few seconds, his mind racing with a whirlwind of emotions. His mother broke the silence, snapping him out of his thoughts.
"Stop standing there like an idiot and help me unpack," she said, her tone light but firm.
Snapping into action, Léonard began helping his mother with her bags, his heart still caught in the storm of conflicting feelings. After a few minutes, she left the two men in the living room and headed to the bathroom to shower.
The room was filled with an awkward silence, heavy and oppressive. Basil, seemingly trying to diffuse the tension, spoke up. "So, Léonard, I've heard that-"
He was cut off by Léonard, his tone sharp and cutting. "Agent Sias."
Basil froze, his eyes narrowing in surprise. How did this kid know he was an agent?
Feigning ignorance, Basil replied, "Agent? What do you mean?"
Léonard wasn't buying it. "Agent Sias," he repeated, his voice steady and cold. "Field agent for the Foundation. Class-C personnel."
Basil's posture stiffened, his body instinctively falling into a defensive stance. His eyes locked onto Léonard with suspicion. "Who are you? How do you know that?"
Léonard sighed, clearly unimpressed. He snapped his fingers, and suddenly, over twenty Resh-1 operatives materialized in the room, appearing as if out of thin air. They stood in a disciplined semi-circle behind Léonard, their presence radiating authority.
One of the operatives stepped forward and handed Léonard his signature mask. With deliberate calm, Léonard put it on, his voice taking on a distorted edge as he replied, "I'm the Administrator. Your boss."
Basil froze, his expression a mix of disbelief and dawning horror. The room, once an ordinary living space, now felt suffocating as the twenty Resh-1 operatives surrounded him in perfect formation. Their presence exuded authority, discipline, and a clear message: he was standing in the presence of someone far above his pay grade.
"You're… the Administrator?!" Basil finally stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.
Léonard, now wearing his signature mask, leaned back casually on the sofa. The distorted timbre of his voice added weight to every word. "Yes, Agent Sias. The one and only. And imagine my surprise when I find out that one of my field agents isn't just liaising with the Nationale Gendastrerie, but also 'liaising' with my mother. How… fascinating."
Basil's face turned pale as he stammered, "S-Sir, I didn't know! I swear, I had no idea she was your-"
Léonard cut him off sharply. "Shut up. It's already frustrating enough to learn my mother has a boyfriend, but even worse to find out her boyfriend works for me."
He sighed heavily, his tone laced with exasperation. "What you've just learned? All of it is classified. Understood?"
Basil straightened, his voice barely audible as he replied, "Yes, sir."
Léonard's tone dropped even lower, his words carrying a dangerous edge. "Oh, and one last thing, if you ever hurt my mother, I'd recommend you end things yourself, quickly and cleanly. Because the moment I get my hands on you, I'll make sure you regret every second you stayed alive. Now leave. I've got something classified to take care of."
Basil nodded frantically, his face pale as he stammered, "Y-Yes, sir." Without wasting another second, he turned and bolted out of the room.
The living room fell into a tense silence for a few seconds… until Léonard heard a stifled noise.
"Pfff…"
He turned his head sharply, only to see the operatives of Resh-1 trembling, their shoulders shaking as they fought to contain their laughter. None of them dared to meet his gaze, their professionalism cracking under the weight of the absurdity they had just witnessed.
Léonard's eyes narrowed as he turned to Graves. His trusted second-in-command had his head lowered, his fists clenched, his entire body trembling, not from fear, but from barely suppressed laughter.
Léonard sighed deeply, shaking his head. A small, resigned smile crept onto his face. "All of you, fuck you," he muttered under his breath.
---
The day passed peacefully. Léonard and Basil accompanied Léonard's mother on a shopping spree. Laden with countless shopping bags, the two shared a silent camaraderie in their mutual suffering. However, Léonard's Tier 9 physique granted by the system made the task significantly easier for him than it was for Basil, who struggled under the weight and dared not utter a word to Léonard, fearing the Administrator's wrath.
By the end of the day, Léonard dropped the bags in the corner of the room, took a long shower, and collapsed onto his bed, taking care to lock his door. He let out a deep sigh, his mind finally beginning to relax.
Suddenly, a familiar chime echoed in his head, accompanied by a notification from the system:
[Ding! You've received a private message from "Order of Light."]
Léonard's brow furrowed as he thought to himself, Elise?
He mentally clicked the notification, opening the private chat interface.
[, , , , ]
[Order of Light]: Hiii, TA. Are you free?
[SCP:F]: Hey, Elise. It's been a while. What's going on?
[Order of Light]: Well, the Global Occult Coalition officially announced that the Paris incident was resolved… by you. If you didn't already know, we ended up with several of our forces displaced in unknown locations, and some of us even found their members dead, but nobody has any memory of what happened.
It's thrown the Hope System groups into complete chaos. Even I'm confused. The GOC claims you erased everyone's memories to protect the Veil. So, yeah… right now, every group is terrified of you.
First off, you control the Foundation. And you and I both know how terrifyingly powerful the Foundation can be in some stories. But on top of that, you've now demonstrated that power by erasing memories and covering up every trace of the incident, except for the dead in our groups and the discussions on the System's channels.
Léonard stared at the message, his expression unreadable. After a moment, he typed a single response.
[SCP:F]: Oh.
Léonard stared blankly at the message thread, his thoughts spiraling as Elise's playful tone echoed in his mind.
[Order of Light]: By the way, I feel sad. You erased my memory without even giving me a heads-up later. That's mean to your allies, you big bad guy.
[SCP:F]: I'm sorry, Elise. I'll do anything to make it up to you.
[Order of Light]: Oh? Anything?
[SCP:F]: Within reason, yes.
[Order of Light]: Alright then, you owe me dinner. The day after tomorrow night, meet me at a restaurant in Lourdes. You handle the reservations.
Léonard's eyes widened as he read her response. Without thinking, his fingers moved across the mental keyboard:
[SCP:F]: I'll be there.
The conversation ended abruptly. Léonard sat motionless on his bed, his mind replaying the events over and over. Slowly, he turned his gaze upward, staring vacantly at the ceiling.
"Did I… just get asked out on a date… by a girl?!" he murmured to himself, his voice equal parts disbelief and panic.
The realization hit him like a truck. A date. With Elise. The day after tomorrow. In Lourdes. The Administrator, feared by all, ruler of the Foundation, was now grappling with a dilemma he never thought he'd face: what the hell does one wear to a date?
---
On another side of the country, within the headquarters of the Order of Light, Elise was practically bouncing with excitement, still wearing her cozy pajamas. She had finally gathered the courage to invite The Administrator, to a date, and, to her utter disbelief and joy, he had said yes.
Meanwhile, her servant, Anne, stood to the side, observing her mistress with a blank expression. Just moments ago, Elise had been calmly reading a book, smiling faintly. Now, she was leaping around the room, her face flushed bright red, radiating energy like a firecracker.
"Anne!" Elise suddenly lunged forward, gripping her servant's shoulders with surprising force. Her eyes sparkled with determination. "We have a very important guest joining me for dinner the day after tomorrow. We need to go shopping for a beautiful dress right away!"
Anne blinked, her confusion growing. "It's late, My Lady. All the clothing stores are closed at this hour."
Elise let out a small, annoyed sound of protest, murmuring, "Tchp," under her breath. Her excitement undeterred, she dove onto her bed, curling up under her blanket with a look of pure satisfaction. "Fine. Wake me up first thing tomorrow morning," she commanded before promptly falling asleep, a contented smile on her face.
Anne stood there for a moment, staring at the now-snoozing Elise, completely bewildered by the sudden turn of events. After a sigh and a shake of her head, she left the room, muttering to herself, "What in the world just happened?"
---
Léonard sat on the edge of his bed, his expression a mix of confusion and resignation, as the operatives of Resh-1 filed silently into the room. The atmosphere carried an air of seriousness that felt oddly out of place considering the situation. The operators, always armed and ready out of habit, positioned themselves in a semi-circle around him, their faces impassive as they waited for their leader to speak. Graves, ever composed, stood by the door, his arms crossed and his posture as rigid as ever, exuding an air of silent authority.
Léonard pinched the bridge of his nose, his signature mask resting on the bedside table next to him. "Alright," he began, his voice muffled with disbelief, "you all probably know why I called this meeting."
One of the operatives, an operator known as Vance, raised a hesitant hand. "Uh, with all due respect, boss… no, we don't. We were just told to assemble in your room, which, by the way, feels incredibly weird for a strategy briefing."
Léonard exhaled slowly, shaking his head. "It's not a strategy briefing, Vance. This is…" He paused, as if searching for the right words. "This is a diplomatic crisis."
The operatives exchanged confused glances. Graves raised an eyebrow but said nothing, his silence speaking volumes.
"A diplomatic crisis?" another operative, Walker, asked, tilting his head. "Boss, I thought we were dealing with containment breaches, high-level anomalies, and secret operations. What's this about?"
Léonard gestured vaguely towards the door, as if motioning towards the entirety of the world outside. "It's about Elise."
There was a beat of silence. Then Graves finally spoke, his voice calm and measured. "The head of the Order of Light?"
"Yes, Graves," Léonard replied, rubbing his temples. "She… invited me to dinner."
The room fell into stunned silence. For several moments, no one spoke, the operatives processing what they'd just heard. Then Vance, ever the daring one, broke the silence. "Boss… no offense, but how is that a crisis?"
Léonard shot him a glare that could have melted steel. "Because, Vance, she didn't just invite me to dinner. She invited me, the Administrator of the Foundation, to what is essentially a date. And I said yes!"
There was a collective intake of breath. Even Graves looked mildly surprised, though he quickly schooled his expression back to its usual stoicism.
"Wait, wait," Walker interjected, raising both hands. "You're telling us the leader of the Order of Light asked you out, and you… agreed?"
"Yes," Léonard replied flatly. "And now I don't know what to do. Do I treat this as an official diplomatic meeting? Do I dress formally? Casually? Do I bring flowers? Is that too cliché? Should I- "
"Boss," Graves interrupted, his tone sharp enough to cut through Léonard's growing spiral of anxiety. "With respect, calm down. You've faced demonic horrors, fought against sarkics, and contained a world-ending anomaly. Surely, a dinner with Elise can't be that intimidating."
Léonard gave him a look that could only be described as pure exasperation. "Graves, I don't think you understand. This isn't about intimidation. This is about optics. If I mess this up, it could cause a massive political ripple effect. If I say the wrong thing, the Order of Light might think the Foundation is trying to gain leverage over them through me. If I say the right thing… well, it might actually give them leverage. And let's not even start on the personal implications of this whole mess!"
The room descended into murmurs as the operatives exchanged glances. One of them, an explosives expert named Carter, finally spoke up. "So… what's the plan, boss?"
"That's why I called you here," Léonard said, gesturing at the group. "I need ideas. Strategies. Contingency plans. And, for the love of everything anomalous, I need someone to tell me what to wear."
Vance snickered, though he quickly stifled it when Léonard glared at him again. "Sorry, boss. It's just… you're asking us, a bunch of MTF operatives, to help you prepare for a date? None of us are exactly experts in that department."
"Speak for yourself," Walker muttered, earning a few chuckles from the group.
Graves cleared his throat, his authoritative presence silencing the room. "If I may, sir," he began, "I suggest we approach this with a blend of professionalism and tact. Treat it as a semi-formal occasion. Wear something that projects authority but also approachability. Perhaps a tailored suit with subtle elements of your usual style to maintain consistency with your image as the Administrator."
Léonard nodded slowly, considering the suggestion. "Alright, that's a start. But what about the actual dinner? What do I talk about? How do I avoid stepping on political landmines?"
"Stick to neutral topics," Graves advised. "Ask her about her interests, her work, things she's passionate about. Keep it light and conversational. Avoid discussing sensitive matters unless she brings them up first."
"And if she does?" Léonard asked, his tone sharp.
"Then redirect the conversation with tact," Graves replied. "You're a strategist, boss. Treat this like any other high-stakes negotiation."
Léonard sighed, leaning back on the bed and staring at the ceiling. "Easier said than done. This isn't just any negotiation. This is Elise. She's sharp, smart, and…" He trailed off, his expression softening for a brief moment before he quickly masked it.
"And what, sir?" Walker prompted, clearly intrigued.
"Nothing," Léonard muttered. "Just… focus on the task at hand. We need to make sure this goes off without a hitch."
The group nodded, the atmosphere shifting to one of determination. They began brainstorming ideas, from conversation topics to contingency plans, their usual tactical minds now applied to the surprisingly delicate art of dinner diplomacy. As the discussion went on, Léonard couldn't help but feel a flicker of amusement at the absurdity of the situation.
Here he was, the Administrator of the Foundation, surrounded by some of the most elite operatives in the world, strategizing for a dinner date like it was a high-priority mission. And yet, he couldn't deny that their support, however unconventional, made him feel a little more prepared for what lay ahead.
---
The first rays of sunlight stretched lazily across the sky as the convoy prepared for departure from a private airfield near the Mont Saint-Michel. Elise stood at the edge of the landing pad, her travel coat fluttering in the breeze, exuding an air of excitement as she surveyed the sleek private jet waiting for her. Anne, ever the dutiful servant, stood nearby holding Elise's meticulously packed hand luggage. Behind them were twenty combatants in plain clothes, their captain, Reynard, leading the group with an air of stoic vigilance.
Elise turned to Anne, a glimmer of determination in her eyes. "Anne, this trip is pivotal. I need the Administrator to see me at my best, charming, composed, and dazzling. This is my moment!"
Anne adjusted her grip on the bag and replied with her usual dry wit, "Yes, Lady Elise. No one will outshine you, especially not at 30,000 feet."
Captain Reynard approached, his expression neutral but his tone professional. "Lady Elise, the jet is ready for boarding. We've coordinated with the Order's contacts at Toulouse airport. From there, our escort will ensure a secure drive to Lourdes tomorrow morning."
Elise beamed. "Perfect! Time to fly."
The group ascended the jet's stairs, Elise walking with the grace of someone attending a grand gala. Once aboard, the luxurious interior of the private jet greeted them, plush seats, polished wood panels, and large windows offering panoramic views of the morning sky.
As they took off, Elise settled into her seat, immediately reaching for a notebook filled with sketches and notes. "Anne," she began, flipping through the pages, "let's review my wardrobe options for tomorrow night. I need everything planned down to the smallest detail."
Anne sighed softly, sitting across from her. "Lady Elise, you already packed half your wardrobe. I'm sure you'll find something suitable."
Elise gave her a pointed look. "Suitable isn't enough, Anne. This is the Administrator we're talking about. Do you realize how rare it is to meet someone of his stature? My outfit needs to be… iconic."
Anne rested her chin on her hand, listening as Elise continued to ramble about fabrics, colors, and accessories. Meanwhile, the combatants, seated toward the rear of the jet, exchanged amused glances.
"She's really taking this meeting seriously," one of them whispered to another.
"Wouldn't you?" came the reply. "If it were someone like the leader of the SCP Foundation, even I would want to make an impression."
Their captain silenced them with a sharp glance, his voice low. "Focus. We're here to ensure her safety, not critique her fashion sense."
The flight passed uneventfully, save for Elise's constant chatter about preparations. By the time they landed at Toulouse airport, the sun had climbed higher into the sky, bathing the tarmac in warmth.
As they disembarked, Elise turned to Captain Reynard. "Captain, do we have time to explore Toulouse before heading to Lourdes tomorrow? I've heard the shopping district here is exquisite."
Reynard hesitated, glancing at Anne for backup. Anne, however, simply shrugged, clearly resigned to Elise's whims. The captain sighed. "Very well, Lady Elise. But we'll need to remain vigilant. The city may be safe, but we can't take any chances."
Elise clapped her hands together, a delighted smile spreading across her face. "Wonderful! Let's go shopping."
The group moved through the airport seamlessly, blending in with the other travelers despite the subtle presence of security. Soon, they found themselves in the heart of Toulouse, where the bustling streets were alive with energy. Elise wasted no time diving into the first shop she saw, her excitement drawing curious glances from the shopkeepers.
Inside, Elise held up a glittering emerald-green gown, turning to Anne with a critical eye. "What do you think? Too bold?"
Anne, standing by with her arms already full of garments, replied, "It's beautiful, Lady Elise, but we've seen similar styles before. Perhaps something more unique?"
Elise pursed her lips, considering the suggestion. "You're right. Unique is key. The Administrator is no ordinary person, so my dress can't be ordinary either."
Outside, the combatants maintained their watchful stance, scanning the crowd for anything out of the ordinary. Reynard, standing by the entrance, received a brief update over his earpiece from their liaison at the Order.
Inside the next boutique, Elise found herself captivated by a stunning violet dress with intricate embroidery. She held it up against herself, examining her reflection in the mirror. "Anne, this is it. It's bold, sophisticated, and has just the right amount of flair."
Anne nodded approvingly. "It's an excellent choice, Lady Elise. I think it's the one."
Elise grinned, her excitement palpable. "Perfect. Now, let's find shoes, accessories, and maybe a matching shawl. Oh, and we mustn't forget the clutch bag!"
By the time they returned to the hotel that evening, Elise was positively glowing with satisfaction. Her room was soon overflowing with shopping bags, each one holding the fruits of her successful expedition.
As Anne began organizing the purchases, Elise collapsed onto the plush bed, letting out a contented sigh. "Anne, today was a triumph. Tomorrow, we will travel to Lourdes, and I will be ready to meet the Administrator. This is going to be perfect."
Anne glanced over from her task, a small smile tugging at her lips. "I'm sure it will be, Lady Elise. After all, you've planned for everything."
With that, Elise drifted off into dreams of the grand meeting to come, while the rest of her entourage prepared for the journey ahead. For now, at least, the night was peaceful.
---
The Foundation's private jet touched down smoothly on the airstrip, its landing lights illuminating the darkened tarmac. Overhead, a pair of sleek fighter jets from the Foundation's aerial division circled the area, maintaining their protective formation until the runway was cleared. The hum of engines faded as the jet came to a halt, its door opening to reveal Leonard, flanked by a squad of twenty Resh-1 operators, all clad in unmarked tactical gear.
Leonard descended the steps with the poise of someone accustomed to command, his sharp gaze scanning the surroundings. Behind him, the operators moved with precision, their faces obscured by helmets and visors. Notably, none of them wore the distinctive Resh-1 armbands, their anonymity preserved as they silently assumed a defensive formation.
In the distance, a convoy of gray vehicles approached, their headlights piercing the night. The convoy came to a halt a few meters away, and from the lead vehicle emerged a group of security personnel wearing the insignias of Site-Aleph's Security Department. At their head was a nervous-looking man who appeared to be in his early forties.
Adjusting his posture, the man approached and saluted with a stiff hand. "Good evening. I'm Lieutenant Montjoie, Security Department, Site-Aleph. Apologies, but the Parent Branch didn't notify us of your arrival."
Graves stepped forward, his towering frame and reflective visor casting an imposing silhouette. His voice, modulated by his helmet, carried an icy authority. "Do you truly believe a representative of O5 Command needs to report their movements to a mere lieutenant from the security department of a single site?"
Montjoie visibly tensed, his confidence evaporating under Graves's unflinching gaze. His hand trembled slightly as he stammered, "I-I apologize, sir. Of course not. We're at your complete disposal."
Graves nodded curtly, his tone sharp as he issued instructions. "Prepare five unmarked armored vehicles for immediate transport. Notify the site director that a Class-A personnel member has arrived and requests their presence in the parking area. Ensure all preparations are completed within fifteen minutes."
The lieutenant snapped to attention, his face pale as he saluted again. "Yes, sir. Right away, sir." He turned on his heel and hurried back to his team, barking orders into his radio with a mixture of urgency and fear.
Leonard observed the exchange silently, his expression unreadable. Once Montjoie and his team were out of earshot, he leaned toward Graves, his voice low. "Was that really necessary?"
Graves's visor turned slightly toward him, reflecting Leonard's own masked face back at him. In a low, conspiratorial tone, he replied, "You cannot travel the world openly as the Administrator, sir. If word of your identity spreads to the wrong ears, it could compromise your safety, and the Foundation's. Maintaining plausible deniability is essential."
Leonard sighed softly, nodding in reluctant agreement. Graves was right, as always. While he detested the need for such subterfuge, he understood its importance. "I suppose this is the price of operating in the shadows," he murmured.
Graves gave a barely perceptible nod. "Precisely, sir. It's a small inconvenience for the greater good."
Montjoie returned moments later, his movements hurried as he reported back to Graves. "The vehicles are being prepared as we speak, sir. The site director has been notified and will meet you in the parking area as requested."
Graves dismissed him with a wave of his hand, and the lieutenant scurried back to his team. Leonard turned his gaze to the horizon, where the distant glow of Site-Aleph's facilities could be seen against the night sky.
"Sir," Graves's voice interrupted his thoughts. "The vehicles will be ready shortly. Shall we proceed?"
Leonard nodded, his resolve hardening. "Let's go. We have to prepare."
Several black SUVs approached the convoy, their engines humming as they came to a stop nearby. From one of the vehicles, a man stepped out, dressed in the crisp uniform of Site-Aleph's Security Department. With practiced formality, he saluted and introduced himself. "Good evening, sir. I am Captain Dubois of the Security Department of Site-Aleph. Here are the vehicles you requested, along with the keys."
Graves stepped forward, his towering presence almost suffocating under the dim glow of the airstrip lights. Without a word, he snatched the keys from Dubois and tossed them casually to five of the Resh-1 operators. Each one caught their respective key with precision and immediately began inspecting the vehicles.
Captain Dubois and his lieutenant stood stiffly, their tension evident. Both men felt the oppressive weight of the situation, not just from the intimidating operators, but even more so from the masked figure they were silently protecting. The air around Leonard seemed to hum with an unspoken authority that left even seasoned security personnel uneasy.
After a brief but thorough inspection of the SUVs, Graves signaled silently with a nod. Leonard and the Resh-1 operators moved as one, boarding the vehicles swiftly and without a word. The engines roared to life, and the convoy began to roll, navigating the facility's roads under the guidance of the dimly lit directional signs toward the parking zone near the main gates.
At the parking area, three figures waited nervously: the site director, his deputy director, and the director of the Internal Security Department of the French Branch. Each of them stood rigidly, beads of sweat forming on their brows as the convoy approached. When the vehicles stopped in front of them, the three men straightened even further and saluted in unison.
The tinted window of the lead SUV lowered slightly, just enough to obscure the interior while allowing Graves to speak. His voice, modulated and devoid of emotion, cut through the silence like a blade. "Distribute Class-D amnestics to all personnel with clearance levels at or below Level 3 and wipe out every camera's records of the last 30 minutes. No exceptions."
Before the site director could muster a reply, the window slid back up, the dark glass concealing any further view of the occupants. The convoy engines revved once more as the vehicles turned and exited the site without pause, leaving behind a trail of dust and a heavy sense of foreboding.
The site director wiped his forehead with a shaky hand before turning to his two companions, his tone frantic. "Do what he just ordered. Immediately. No delays. Execute."
Both the deputy director and the head of Internal Security snapped to attention, barking orders into their radios as they moved to comply.
---
A few hours later, the convoy rolled up a winding countryside road toward a secluded hilltop hotel overlooking the town of Lourdes. The crisp early morning air was tinged with the faint aroma of pine and dew as the headlights illuminated the rustic facade of the hotel. The location was picturesque, but what stood out most was the unmistakable presence of heavily armed Resh-1 operators, stationed at key vantage points around the property. They had arrived earlier to secure the area in preparation for Leonard's stay.
The hotel itself was under complete lockdown. All original staff had been temporarily replaced by personnel from the Office of the Administrator (OoTA), ensuring absolute control over the environment. Even the smallest details had been accounted for. Leonard stepped out of the lead vehicle, glancing at his watch. The hands read 04:00 AM. Stifling a yawn, he stretched his arms and followed the directions of the OoTA agents to his private suite.
Graves, ever vigilant, stood at the entrance of Leonard's suite as the Administrator settled in. Once assured that Leonard was secure and resting, he turned sharply on his heel, his gaze locking on Alexei, who had accompanied the forward detachment to secure the area the day before.
With a voice honed from years of authority, Graves barked, "Alexei, situation report on the perimeter."
Alexei, standing at ease but exuding the discipline of a veteran, responded promptly, his tone clipped and professional. "Perimeter secured within a five-kilometer radius of the hotel. Surveillance systems are operational, and we have visual and auditory coverage of all critical zones. No anomalies detected."
Graves nodded curtly. "And the restaurant?"
"Operational and under our control," Alexei replied. "We were fortunate to find a restaurant this isolated from the town. All staff have been replaced with vetted OoTA personnel. Additionally, we've brought in chefs from Headquarters to ensure the dining experience meets the highest standards. The road leading to both the hotel and the restaurant has been blocked off, with checkpoints established to monitor any movement. Field agents from OoTA are embedded throughout the town, maintaining a low profile but ready to act at a moment's notice. In short, Lourdes and its surroundings are now a covert fortress."
Graves raised an eyebrow. "And what about potential threats?"
Alexei's expression darkened slightly. "We've identified a suspicious group occupying the XXXX Hotel to the west of town, directly facing the Basilica of Saint Pius X across the river. Interception of their communications revealed that they're personnel from the Order of Light, deployed to secure the area in anticipation of their leader's arrival. Their operations appear similar to ours, though on a smaller scale."
Graves processed the information quickly, his voice firm. "Maintain constant surveillance on them. Ensure they remain unaware of our presence. If they step out of line, neutralize them, but only as a last resort. The Administrator's safety comes above all else."
"Yes, sir," Alexei replied with a sharp nod. "We're already monitoring their movements around the clock. They haven't displayed any hostile intent so far, but we're not taking any chances."
Graves clasped his hands behind his back, his stance exuding calm authority. "Good. Keep me updated on every development. Maintain vigilance, and no one lets their guard down for even a second. Understood?"
"Understood, sir," Alexei affirmed.
Graves cast one last glance at Leonard's suite before turning back to Alexei. "Prepare the team for potential contingencies. We can't afford even the smallest error."
With that, the two men parted ways, each retreating to their respective duties as the hotel-turned-fortress settled into an eerie quiet. For the operatives of Resh-1 and OoTA, the real work was just beginning.