Chapter 42: The National Gendastrerie

Chapter 42: The National Gendastrerie

In the dimly lit office of the DGSI's headquarters, Director Jeanne Valois sat behind her desk, surrounded by stacks of classified reports and intelligence briefings. The atmosphere in the room was thick with tension as she sifted through the latest updates on the situation along the Franco-German border, specifically near the enigmatic Black Forest. Over the past several weeks, there had been an increasing number of disturbing reports—strange disappearances, sightings of grotesque creatures, and unexplained phenomena that defied all logical explanation.

Jeanne frowned as she scanned the most recent report. It was the third time this week that a team of her best agents had gone missing without a trace. The pattern was unmistakable, yet frustratingly elusive. She had a sinking feeling that whatever was happening in the Black Forest was far beyond the scope of anything the DGSI had dealt with before.

As she was absorbed in her thoughts, trying to piece together the fragments of intelligence she had, there was a subtle shimmer in the air across the room. Jeanne's instincts kicked in immediately. She reached into her desk drawer and pulled out her service pistol, pointing it directly at the source of the disturbance.

Out of the shimmer, a figure began to materialize—a soldier clad in dark, tactical gear with a helmet obscuring his face. The figure remained still, hands raised slightly to show he was unarmed. Jeanne kept her weapon trained on him, her pulse quickening as she assessed the situation.

The soldier slowly reached into a pouch on his vest and produced a small, unassuming envelope. With deliberate care, he placed it on the desk in front of Jeanne, stepping back as soon as the task was complete. The envelope bore a single symbol that made Jeanne's breath catch in her throat—the unmistakable logo of the SCP Foundation.

The soldier remained silent, his face unreadable behind the visor of his helmet. Jeanne, her heart still pounding, slowly lowered her weapon, realizing that the figure posed no immediate threat. Without a word, the soldier turned and walked towards the door, his form gradually fading from view as the cloaking device he was equipped with reactivated. In seconds, he was gone, leaving Jeanne alone in her office with only the envelope on her desk as proof that he had ever been there.

She hesitated for a moment, her mind racing with questions. Then, with a determined sigh, she picked up the envelope and carefully opened it. Inside was a single USB drive, plain and unmarked.

Jeanne's eyes narrowed. She knew better than to trust an unknown drive—especially one that had been delivered by an operative of the Foundation. She reached for her phone and called for a disposable laptop, one that was completely isolated from any sensitive networks.

The laptop arrived within minutes, delivered by one of her aides who looked at her with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Jeanne waved the aide away, leaving the office empty once more. She inserted the USB drive into the laptop and waited as it whirred to life.

The screen flickered for a moment before displaying a series of folders, each one labeled with dates and locations that matched the areas where her agents had gone missing. Jeanne's fingers hovered over the touchpad as she opened the first folder. What she saw made her blood run cold.

Photos and videos filled the screen—horrific images of twisted, monstrous creatures that defied any semblance of reality. They were grotesque, with sinewy limbs, multiple heads, and appendages that resembled a nightmarish fusion of animal and human anatomy. The footage showed these creatures roaming through the dense woods, their movements predatory and unnervingly intelligent. Some images captured the aftermath of battles—scenes of devastation where the forest itself seemed to have been torn apart by an unseen force.

Jeanne's hands trembled slightly as she clicked through the files. Each one was worse than the last, painting a picture of a place that had become a breeding ground for the unnatural. And then, she found the video.

The screen went black for a moment before a voice, cold and dispassionate, began to speak. The voice narrated a grim tale of conflict between the SCP Foundation and a Group known as the Esoteric Order of the White Worm. The name sent a shiver down Jeanne's spine.

As the video played on, the voice detailed the numerous skirmishes that had taken place in the Black Forest in the past week. The images that accompanied the narration showed scenes of combat between Foundation forces and the cultists of the White Worm, their battles leaving nothing but destruction in their wake. The video footage was raw and unfiltered—an unflinching look at a war that had been raging in the shadows, unknown to the rest of the world.

The voice continued, explaining that what Jeanne was seeing were merely the smaller conflicts—the "prelude" to something far more catastrophic. The true battle, the voice warned, would begin in just three days. It was a chilling declaration, one that left Jeanne feeling as though a cold hand had gripped her heart.

The final frames of the video displayed a set of coordinates, accompanied by the voice's final request—a plea for military support. The coordinates pointed to a remote location in the Alsace countryside, where the Foundation was apparently preparing for the coming confrontation.

The screen went black again, and Jeanne sat back in her chair, her mind reeling. She took a deep breath, trying to process everything she had just seen. The implications were staggering. The French government had been aware of strange activity in the Black Forest, but nothing in their reports had hinted at anything like this.

Without wasting another moment, Jeanne reached for her secure line and dialed the number for the Minister of Defense. Her voice was steady, but urgent as she relayed the information she had just received. She described the contents of the USB drive, the images of the creatures, the skirmishes, and the impending battle that was set to take place.

The Minister listened intently, his silence heavy on the other end of the line. When Jeanne finished, there was a brief pause before he spoke, his voice tense.

"This is… concerning, to say the least," the Minister said, clearly trying to maintain his composure. "We need to act on this immediately. I'll contact the Director of the Gendastrerie Nationale and arrange for the necessary forces to be mobilized."

Jeanne nodded, even though the Minister couldn't see her. "Understood, sir. I'll have my team prepare for any necessary coordination with the military. We can't afford to be caught off guard."

The call ended, and Jeanne remained seated, her thoughts racing. She knew that the next few days would be critical—not just for her team, but for the entire country. The threat posed by the Esoteric Order of the White Worm was unlike anything they had ever faced. If the Foundation was reaching out for help, it meant that the situation was dire indeed.

As she stared at the now-dark screen of the laptop, Jeanne felt a sense of dread settle over her. She had always been prepared for the worst in her line of work, but this… this was something else entirely. She couldn't shake the feeling that they were on the brink of something catastrophic, something that could change the world as they knew it.

With a heavy sigh, she began making preparations. There was no time to waste. The clock was ticking, and the battle for the Black Forest—and possibly much more—was about to begin.

---

The Minister of Defense, Charles Renard, sat behind his polished oak desk, the glow of his desk lamp casting long shadows across the room. The late hour did nothing to diminish the severity of his expression as he listened to Jeanne Valois on the secure line. Her voice was steady, but the underlying urgency was unmistakable as she relayed the grim details she had uncovered.

As Jeanne concluded her report, Renard leaned back in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose. "This is… concerning, to say the least," he said, his voice controlled but tense. He took a moment to collect his thoughts before continuing. "We need to act on this immediately. I'll contact the Director of the Gendastrerie Nationale and arrange for the necessary forces to be mobilized."

"Understood, sir. My team is ready to coordinate with the military as needed. We can't afford to be caught off guard."

Renard nodded, though Jeanne couldn't see him. "Prepare your team, Valois. I'll handle the rest."

With that, the call ended, leaving Renard in the dim silence of his office. He stood up, his mind already working through the logistics. The situation was dire, and the usual protocols wouldn't suffice. It was time to bring in the Gendastrerie.

Renard picked up the secure phone on his desk and dialed a number from memory. After a few rings, a stern voice answered on the other end.

"General Aimée Dubois, Director of the Gendastrerie Nationale, speaking."

"Aimée," Renard began, not bothering with formalities. "We have a situation that requires immediate action. I'm sending you the details now, but suffice it to say, this is not a drill. We're deploying the Gendastrerie for its first official mission."

There was a brief pause on the line, and when Aimée spoke again, her tone was calm but filled with a steely resolve. "Understood, Minister. What are our orders?"

"I need you to mobilize the Groupe d'intervention de la Gendastrerie Nationale. This is a high-risk operation, Aimée. The target location is in Germany, coordinates to be provided. You'll be working in coordination with the SCP Foundation and regroup with them in Alsace region. The situation is more… unusual than usual, so prepare your men accordingly."

"I'll make the arrangements immediately," Aimée responded without hesitation. "We'll be ready to move out at dawn."

"Good," Renard replied. "Keep me informed, and ensure that this operation goes smoothly. The stakes are higher than ever."

"Consider it done, sir."

The call ended, and Renard exhaled slowly. He stared at the map of France that hung on the wall of his office, his eyes tracing the border with Germany and the dark expanse of the Black Forest beyond. There was no turning back now. The Gendastrerie was being deployed, and the outcome of this mission could very well determine the safety of the entire nation.

—

Gendastrerie Nationale Headquarters – Midnight

General Aimée Dubois stood in her office, her fingers flying across the keyboard as she finalized the orders for the deployment. The mission was of utmost importance, and every detail had to be perfect. She knew what was at stake.

Once the orders were ready, she picked up the phone and dialed the number for the commander of the Groupe d'intervention, Colonel Isabelle Dumont. The phone rang only once before it was answered.

"Colonel Dumont," Isabelle's voice came through, alert despite the late hour.

"Isabelle, it's Aimée. We have our first mission. I need you to mobilize five intervention groups. Prepare them for a high-risk deployment. The operation is classified, and the location is in Germany. You'll be coordinating with the SCP Foundation."

There was a brief silence as Isabelle absorbed the information. "Understood, General. We'll be ready to move out at dawn. I'll ensure the men are briefed and prepared."

"Good. Make sure they understand the gravity of this situation, Isabelle. This isn't a routine mission. We're stepping into something far more dangerous."

"Consider it done, General."

As Aimée ended the call, she took a deep breath. This was it. The Gendastrerie was about to be tested in the field, and she had full confidence in Isabelle and her team. They had trained for this, and now it was time to prove their worth.

---

Groupe d'intervention Barracks – 3:00 AM

Colonel Isabelle Dumont walked through the dimly lit corridors of the barracks, her boots echoing softly against the concrete floor. The air was thick with anticipation as operators moved through their routines, checking their gear, loading magazines, and mentally preparing for what lay ahead.

Isabelle stopped outside the ready room, peering in to see her team going through final checks. She noted the tension in the air—this was their first mission, and the weight of it was palpable. As she continued down the corridor, she noticed one of the younger operators sitting alone on a bench, his hands trembling slightly as he adjusted his vest.

She walked over and sat down beside him, her presence alone enough to snap him out of his nervous state. He looked up at her, trying to muster a smile but failing.

"Colonel," he greeted her, his voice a bit shaky.

Isabelle gave him a reassuring smile. "First mission jitters?"

The young operator nodded, his hands still trembling. "Yes, ma'am. I just… I don't want to screw this up."

"You won't," Isabelle said firmly. "You've trained for this, just like the rest of us. Nerves are natural, especially for something like this. But you're ready."

The operator looked down at his hands, taking a deep breath. "Thank you, ma'am. It's just… this feels different, more… important."

"It is important," Isabelle agreed. "But that's why we're here. We've been trained to handle situations like this, to protect the people who can't protect themselves. And you're part of that now. You're part of something bigger."

The operator nodded, his expression becoming more resolute. "I'll do my best, Colonel."

Isabelle smiled again, this time with a hint of pride. "I know you will. That's why you're here."

For a moment, they sat in silence, the weight of the upcoming mission settling over them both. The operator glanced at Isabelle, curiosity flickering in his eyes.

"Colonel, if it's not too forward… what made you decide to take this position ?"

Isabelle paused, her gaze distant as memories flooded back. "I've seen what happens when we're not prepared for the threats out there. I saw Strasbourg during the incident a few weeks ago. The things I saw… the horrors we couldn't stop… they stayed with me. When the opportunity to lead this unit came up, I knew I couldn't turn it down."

The operator listened intently, sensing there was more to her story. "And your family? What about them?"

Isabelle's expression softened, her eyes betraying a flicker of sadness. "I have a son. His name is Léonard. He's the reason I do this. His father disappeared years ago, and since then, I've sworn to protect him from anything that might try to take him away from me too."

The operator blinked, surprised by her candor. "Léonard… what's he like?"

Isabelle smiled, a genuine warmth in her eyes. "He's a good kid. Smart, driven… a bit of a handful sometimes, but I wouldn't have it any other way. He's in lycée now, and I'm proud of the man he's becoming."

The operator nodded, understanding more now about his commander. "Thank you for sharing that, Colonel. It means a lot to know why you're here."

Isabelle stood, giving the operator a final pat on the shoulder. "Remember, we're all in this together. We fight for each other, and for the people who can't fight for themselves. Now get some rest. Tomorrow's going to be a long day."

As Isabelle walked away, the operator watched her go, feeling a renewed sense of determination. He wasn't just fighting for his country or his mission—he was fighting for people like Colonel Dumont and her son. The stakes had never been clearer.

---

The barracks were quieter now as the night wore on. Isabelle returned to her office, the weight of command heavy on her shoulders. She took a moment to sit down and look at the photo of her son on her desk, a reminder of why she did what she did.

Tomorrow would be a turning point for the Gendastrerie and for her. But as she stared at the photo, she felt a sense of peace. She was doing this for Léonard, for all the children out there who needed someone to keep them safe. And that was a cause worth fighting for.

As the first light of dawn began to break through the windows, Isabelle stood, ready to lead her team into the unknown. They had a mission, and they would not fail.

---

The air was thick with anticipation as the convoy of armored vehicles rolled toward the designated rendezvous point in Alsace. The GIGN (Groupe d'Intervention de la Gendastrerie Nationale) was on its way to meet with SCP Foundation operatives, tasked with a mission that none of them could have imagined even in their worst nightmares. The weight of the mission sat heavily on the shoulders of every agent in the convoy.

In the leading vehicle, Captain Hugo Renaud, one of the most seasoned agents of the GIGN, sat in the front passenger seat, his gaze fixed on the dark road ahead. He was silent, his mind running through the tactical scenarios they might face. His team, consisting of some of the finest operators in France, had been trained to handle high-risk situations, but this was different—this was beyond anything they'd ever faced.

Beside him, Lieutenant Adrien Lefevre, a sharp-witted and dependable officer, broke the silence. "Capitaine, what do you think we'll be up against? The briefing was... vague."

Renaud's eyes didn't leave the road, but his voice was calm and steady. "The Foundation doesn't deal in normalcy. If they've called us in, it means we're dealing with something that defies logic. Stay sharp, and trust your training. Whatever it is, we'll face it together."

In the back of the vehicle, the other operators exchanged glances, the tension palpable. Some tried to ease their nerves with light conversation, while others sat in quiet reflection, mentally preparing for what lay ahead. One of the younger operators, Alexandre Moreau, was unusually quiet. His hands rested on his lap, fingers tapping nervously against his thigh.

Sitting next to him, Sergeant Camille Dubois noticed the young operator's unease. "First big op, Moreau?" she asked, her voice gentle but firm.

Moreau nodded, his gaze flickering to the more experienced sergeant. "Yeah... never thought my first real mission would be something like this."

Dubois smiled reassuringly. "None of us did. But you're here because you're ready. Just stick to your training, and watch your teammates' backs. We get through this by working as a unit."

Moreau nodded again, finding some comfort in Dubois' words. "Thanks, Sergeant. I'll do my best."

The conversation around them faded as the convoy neared the rendezvous point. The vehicles slowed as they approached a heavily secured perimeter, guarded by SCP Foundation operatives. The area was a hive of activity, with personnel and vehicles moving about in organized chaos. Floodlights bathed the area in harsh light, casting long shadows over the armored vehicles, troop transports, and even a few Leclerc tanks bearing the Foundation's insignia.

The convoy came to a halt, and the GIGN operators began disembarking. Captain Renaud was the first to step out, taking in the scene before him. His eyes scanned the area, noting the presence of over 600 Foundation operators. There was a sense of controlled urgency in the air, as if everyone knew something terrible was coming but was determined to face it head-on.

As the rest of the GIGN unit assembled, Colonel Isabelle Dumont approached, her expression resolute. She had been in constant communication with the Foundation's command, and now it was time to integrate her forces with theirs. Dumont's presence alone was enough to instill confidence in her men—she had a reputation for being unflinching in the face of danger.

"Captain Renaud," Dumont called as she approached. "I want your unit to stay on standby. You will get yours orders soon. Until then, make sure your men are ready."

Renaud nodded sharply. "Understood, Colonel. We'll be ready."

The Colonel led the group toward the Foundation's command tent, where the mission briefings were taking place. As they walked, the operators couldn't help but take in their surroundings. The Foundation's camp was filled with equipment and personnel unlike anything they'd ever seen before. Advanced technology hummed and pulsed with an otherworldly energy, and strange devices were being unloaded from transport vehicles.

Sergeant Dubois pointed out a group of operators near one of the helicopters. "Look at that one," she said, nudging Moreau. "Hands are metallic, like a cyborg."

Moreau's eyes widened. "What the hell is this place? Are these guys even human?"

Dubois shrugged. "Human or not, they're on our side. That's all that matters."

Further down, another operator, Mathieu Garnier, caught sight of a small figure practicing combat maneuvers. He squinted, trying to make sense of what he was seeing. "Is that... a kid? No way. And... what are those... tentacles?"

The figure in question was indeed smaller than the rest but moved with a grace and precision that was almost unnerving. Red, sinewy tendrils extended from her back, striking at targets with lethal accuracy. The sight sent a chill down Garnier's spine.

"Definitely not a kid," Renaud muttered. "Stay focused. We're not here to ask questions."

The GIGN unit reached the command tent, where Colonel Dumont instructed them to wait outside. The operators formed a loose circle, exchanging hushed conversations as they watched the entrance to the tent.

Inside, the atmosphere was tense. The Foundation's senior officers were in deep discussion with Colonel Dumont and the other commanders. Maps and satellite images were spread across tables, and several monitors displayed live feeds from drones hovering over the Black Forest region. 

Colonel Dumont stood beside the Foundation's commanding officer, a man known only as Mendoza. His presence was imposing, his eyes hidden behind a visor that seemed to glow faintly in the dim light of the tent. The air around him was charged with a sense of authority and secrecy.

Mendoza spoke in a low, gravelly voice, briefing the gathered commanders. "The situation in the Black Forest is deteriorating rapidly. The Esoteric Order of the White Worm has deployed massively. The Forest is already of entities named SK-Bio."

He pointed to a map with several marked locations. "Our mission is to strike at key points within the forest, defend a Foundation's Outpost and neutralize the Order's forces. We have identified two primary objectives: the cult's central command post, and a network of tunnels believed to house their more dangerous assets. The GIGN will be tasked with securing the tunnels alongside a unit of the Foundation."

Colonel Dumont nodded. "Understood. We'll deploy immediately."

Mendoza looked at her, his expression unreadable. "Be aware, Colonel. This is not a typical enemy. They will use every means at their disposal—physical and metaphysical. Your men must be prepared for the unexpected."

Dumont's voice was firm. "My men are ready for anything. We won't let you down."

With that, the briefing ended, and the commanders exited the tent to relay their orders. As Colonel Dumont approached her unit, she could see the mix of curiosity and concern on their faces.

"Listen up," she began, her voice cutting through the murmur of conversations. "We have our objectives. We're to secure a network of tunnels believed to house some of the enemy's most dangerous assets. This will be a high-risk operation, but we've trained for this. Stick to your training, work as a team, and we'll get through this."

Captain Renaud stepped forward. "When do we move out, Colonel?"

Dumont glanced at Mendoza, who had followed her out of the tent. The Foundation commander gave a slight nod. "We move out tomorrow. Get your gear ready."

As the GIGN operators dispersed to prepare, Renaud approached Colonel Dumont. "Colonel, are we really ready for this? From what we've seen... this isn't like anything we've faced before."

Dumont met his gaze, her expression unwavering. "No, it's not. But we're the best at what we do. If anyone can handle this, it's us. Remember, Renaud—we're fighting not just for ourselves, but for everyone back home. We can't afford to fail."

Renaud nodded, feeling a renewed sense of purpose. "We won't fail, Colonel."