Chapter 85:

Chapter 85:

In the corridors of the Gendastrerie headquarters, Agent Basil Sias moved quickly, his polished shoes echoing off the marble floors as he passed by several operators and staff members, who saluted him in recognition of his rank as advisor. With a nod, he continued, his mind focused, carrying a sense of urgency in his every step. He arrived at the main reception desk, where a secretary sat diligently at his post. The man glanced up as Basil approached and offered a polite greeting.

"Mr. Sias, Director Bergerac is currently in a meeting," the secretary informed him, with a tone of polite regret.

Basil wasted no time, his voice firm but respectful. "Please, this is urgent. I've received an emergency communication from the Foundation that needs to be delivered to the Director. It's of the highest importance."

The secretary's expression shifted, recognizing the gravity of the situation. He quickly picked up a phone and dialed a number, his fingers flying over the buttons. After a short exchange, he hung up and gestured to Basil. "Follow me, sir."

They moved briskly, climbing a set of stairs that spiraled up to a higher floor, where the atmosphere grew quieter, more isolated. They soon arrived at a large door, guarded by three operators of the Gendastrerie, their expressions stern, their postures rigid. One of the guards knocked, the sound firm and commanding, and after a brief moment, the door creaked open. A man in a researcher's uniform stood on the other side, his eyes lighting up when he saw who had arrived.

"Basil," the man greeted with a warm smile. "It's a pleasure to see you again."

Basil inclined his head. "Mr. Verlaine. Always good to see you too." He stepped into the room, glancing briefly at the conference setup behind the researcher, before returning his gaze. "I hear the R&D team is hard at work."

Verlaine chuckled, his enthusiasm almost contagious. "They're completely obsessed. Since we received the Tartarean specimens—both alive and dead—plus the intel you provided, they're practically worshiping you down in the labs." His eyes twinkled with amusement as he added, "You're a bit of a legend right now."

Basil let out a modest laugh, shaking his head at the exaggeration. "Just doing my job."

Then, Basil scanned the room. He noticed Colonel Dumont, the head of the Gendastrerie's military forces, standing firmly at the far side of the table, her expression stern as always. Next to her stood her second-in-command, a man whose presence commanded equal respect, though he remained silent, observing Basil with a calculated gaze. Basil's eyes moved further, spotting another researcher from the Gendastrerie's R&D division, standing eagerly by Verlaine's side, his curiosity practically spilling over as he waited for any sliver of new information.

But at the center of it all sat Director Bergerac. Her sharp, composed demeanor was unmistakable. She was the one pulling the strings of this operation, and everyone in the room knew it. The moment she spoke, all attention turned to her. "Good afternoon, Mr. Sias," she greeted, her voice formal but laced with the authority that came naturally to her position. "I was just in the middle of a conference with the President." She gestured toward the large screen mounted on the wall. The President himself was visible, along with several of his advisors.

The President, with a calm but commanding voice, spoke directly to Basil. "You must be the liaison from the Foundation, Mr. Basil Sias. I would like to express my deepest gratitude again to you and your organization for the invaluable support you've provided. Your aid has been nothing short of instrumental."

Basil, maintaining his professional demeanor, nodded respectfully. "It's an honor, Mr. President. We're simply fulfilling our duty, nothing more."

The President acknowledged this with a slight nod, his expression becoming more serious. "You seem to be in a hurry, though. Has something happened?"

Basil smiled awkwardly, feeling the weight of the room's sudden focus on him. He cleared his throat and began, "Well, according to the latest intelligence, France is on the verge of being struck by a series of anomalous terrorist attacks across the country."

The entire room—both in the physical meeting and on the large screen showing the President and his advisors—widened their eyes in shock. The President leaned forward, his voice filled with disbelief. "Mr. Sias, did you say anomalous terrorist attacks?"

Basil nodded solemnly, his tone firm but measured. "Allow me to explain, sir. Less than 24 hours ago, during one of the Foundation's operations against an anomalous group, we uncovered information about biological weapons. Based on several documents and intelligence gathered, we believe these attacks are planned to occur on June 16th—which is in just one week."

The President's face grew tense, his jaw clenched in barely restrained anger. "Who's behind this?" he demanded.

Basil hesitated for a brief moment, knowing the gravity of what he was about to reveal. "According to our information, it's a group known as 'SAPPHIRE.'"

At this, Director Bergerac, who had remained composed and silent until now, furrowed her brow. "SAPPHIRE?" she questioned, clearly unsettled.

Basil continued, his voice heavy with the dark knowledge he carried. "The Society of the Atheist Partisans of Progress for the Halt of the Irrational and Religious Enemy, or more simply known as SAPPHIRE. They are an extremist atheist organization. Their goal is to annihilate all religions—whether normal or anomalous. To achieve this, they've shown no hesitation in using, harming, or even outright killing innocent civilians."

The President, his face now flushed with fury, clenched his fists. "How many of our citizens have they killed?" he asked, his voice barely restrained.

There was a pause—a moment where Basil's hesitation was palpable. He knew the answer would enrage them all. Finally, he spoke. "We don't have an exact number yet, but we have found over 40 children dead, most of whom were subjected to abuse and torture due to SAPPHIRE's experiments."

The room fell into a profound, suffocating silence. The weight of the revelation hung in the air like a storm cloud. Colonel Dumont suddenly shot to her feet, her face red with rage. "THESE SONS OF BITCHES! HOW DARE THEY SLAUGHTER OUR OWN COMPATRIOTS! CHILDREN, NO LESS!"

The outburst seemed to be a spark, igniting the room. The once silent conference room erupted into chaos, filled with murmurs of disgust, anger, and outrage. Even the advisors in the President's video feed began expressing their frustration and fury, voices rising in unanimous condemnation of SAPPHIRE. The meeting, now charged with emotion, quickly descended into a storm of loud declarations and calls for immediate action.

The President, who had been silent, suddenly shouted, "SILENCE!" The room instantly fell quiet, tension hanging thick in the air. He then fixed his eyes on Basil and asked, "Do you know what weapons SAPPHIRE plans to use?"

Basil nodded grimly. "Well, that's the worst part, sir. SAPPHIRE plans to use an anomalous virus called SCP-008, also known as the 'Zombie Plague.'"

The President blinked, disbelief flickering across his face. "Zombie Plague? Don't tell me…"

Basil confirmed, "Yes, it's exactly what you think. A zombie virus, just like in the movies."

A massive wave of murmurs swept through both the room and the video conference. Basil, steadying himself, continued, "According to our information, SCP-008 has a 100% lethality rate and a 100% infection rate upon contact. As of now, there is no vaccine or treatment that can cure the infection."

The Minister of Health nearly leaped out of his seat, exclaiming, "WHAT? THIS IS A CATASTROPHE!" He turned to the President, his voice frantic. "Mr. President, we must do everything in our power to fight this virus!"

The President looked at him, his expression tightening. "I'm no medical expert, but is it really that dangerous?"

The Health Minister, visibly shaken, replied, "MR. PRESIDENT, IMAGINE IF THIS BOMB DROPS IN THE HEART OF PARIS. WE WOULD BE LOOKING AT ABOUT 10 MILLION HIGHLY INFECTIOUS AND EXTREMELY AGGRESSIVE INDIVIDUALS. THE CONSEQUENCES WOULD BE DISASTROUS."

A heavy silence fell over the room. Everyone present began to picture the devastation—Paris overrun by millions of zombies. The mere thought of such a scene was horrifying.

Bergerac, her voice steady but clearly concerned, broke the silence. "Do we know their targets?"

Basil responded gravely, "Their supposed targets are several mosques across France, timed with the Eid al-Adha celebrations on June 16th."

The President, his face pale, turned to the Minister of the Interior. "What would the consequences be?"

The Minister, frowning, quickly calculated in his head, his jaw tightening before he replied, "Absolutely catastrophic. First of all, if multiple Muslim communities were infected, it would fuel the narrative of the 'evil Islamist' attacking innocent citizens. This would undoubtedly lead to a wave of major anti-Muslim violence across France, possibly spreading through Europe. We would see lynch mobs, armed clashes, and widespread unrest."

He paused for a moment, taking a breath before continuing, "And seeing their brothers and sisters under attack in Europe, militant Islamic groups wouldn't stand by. They'd come to Europe, claiming to defend their people, which could lead to a series of retaliatory terrorist attacks. It would be a bloodbath. Not to mention the sheer number of lives lost to SCP-008 itself."

The entire room sat in stunned silence, the weight of the potential disaster sinking in.

The President closed his eyes, letting out a deep, heavy sigh, but then opened them suddenly, his gaze filled with fury. "I WILL NEVER ALLOW ANYONE TO HARM OUR NATION." His voice thundered through the room, startling everyone. "I ORDER THE FULL MOBILIZATION OF ALL ARMED FORCES! RAISE THE VIGIPIRATE ALERT LEVEL TO 'ATTACK EMERGENCY.' MOBILIZE THE DGSI AND DGSE TO TRACK DOWN THESE BASTARDS! AND ORDER ALL LAW ENFORCEMENT TO GET THEIR HEAVY WEAPONS OUT. MOVE, NOW!"

The room exploded into frantic activity as staff scrambled to carry out his commands. Phones rang, orders were shouted, and the atmosphere became electric with urgency.

Turning to Bergerac, the President's voice softened only slightly, though the steel in his tone remained. "Director Bergerac, I want full cooperation with the Foundation. Do whatever it takes to find SAPPHIRE. We can't afford any slip-ups."

Bergerac nodded firmly, already coordinating with her team, knowing the gravity of the situation at hand.

---

Meanwhile in a grand auditorium, rows of seats were filled with men in sharp suits, their whispered conversations buzzing throughout the hall. They exchanged words about financial dealings, covert operations, and the unfolding global power dynamics, unaware of the tension soon to settle over them.

"I hear the raid in Lille was a complete disaster," murmured one man to another. "How could we not have foreseen this?"

"Resources were stretched thin. And now, we've got the Foundation sniffing around," came the terse reply.

Suddenly, a young adolescent, no older than sixteen, entered the stage. The room fell into an immediate silence. His presence demanded attention, even from these seasoned power players. Calmly, he approached the microphone at the center of the stage, his polished shoes clicking with every step. Once positioned, he adjusted the microphone and spoke with a voice that carried an unsettling authority.

"Ladies and gentlemen," he began, his tone smooth yet commanding, "welcome to the heart of the Stoa. As many of you already know, only days before our scheduled operation to cleanse these utterly ridiculous belief systems, the Lodge of Lille fell into enemy hands."

A ripple of murmurs spread across the crowd, the news igniting a wave of concern. But the young man didn't falter.

"After a preliminary investigation, we have confirmed that the organization responsible for this assault was none other than the SCP Foundation," he said, his voice unwavering. The mention of the Foundation sent a cold chill through the room, silencing the whispers once more.

"They are one of the greatest threats to our mission. But rest assured, they will not stop our cleansing efforts. They might pose obstacles," he said, allowing a brief pause to let the gravity of the situation sink in. "Which is why I have taken the liberty of reaching out to some… associates."

He extended his hand towards the edge of the stage. "Gentlemen, I present to you our two newest allies."

All eyes shifted to the side of the stage, where shadows loomed—figures waiting to emerge from the darkness.

First, out of the shadows stepped another adolescent. He was dressed in a sleek Italian-style suit, his movements confident as he surveyed the assembly with a smug smile. His voice, though heavy with an Italian accent, rang out clearly as he addressed the crowd.

"Bonjour à tous," he began, pausing for effect. "I am Vittorio Di Luca, leader of the Fascist Council of the Occult. I look forward to the most fruitful cooperation between SAPPHIRE and the FCO."

His words were met with a mixed response. A wave of murmurs swept through the audience—some visibly uncomfortable with the idea of working alongside fascists, their frowns betraying disdain, while others whispered with cautious approval, seeing potential strength in the alliance. The tension was palpable, the room divided in its sentiments.

Then, stepping out of the shadows behind Di Luca came another figure, and his presence was far more ominous. Dressed head to toe in combat gear, his uniform was a mottled pattern of gray and black camouflage. He wore tinted combat goggles that concealed his eyes, and a balaclava masked the rest of his face. A red beret adorned his head, a symbol of elite status.

Without hesitation, he strode directly to the microphone, his footsteps heavy and deliberate. When he spoke, his voice was cold and calculated, a chill descending over the room with every word.

"I am Warlord," he said, his voice devoid of any warmth. "High ranked member of the Chaos Insurgency."

His declaration sent a shockwave through the audience, as the mention of the Chaos Insurgency brought an immediate hush. 

The leader of the assembly, standing at the microphone, raised his hand to command silence. His voice echoed through the room, resonating with authority.

"Ladies and Gentlemens, we must eliminate the presence of the Foundation in France and even across Europe. Let us bring deliverance to this world from the religious threats that pollute humanity!"

The entire assembly rose from their seats, shouting the phrase in unison. Their voices merged into a powerful roar, shaking the very walls of the grand hall. The atmosphere was electric, charged with the fanatic energy of their shared mission. Each member seemed more determined than the last, unified by their loathing for the Foundation and the religious ideologies they sought to eradicate.

As the cries subsided, the leader stood taller, a satisfied smile playing at the corners of his lips. He waited a moment for the room to quiet fully before speaking again.

"Then he declared, his tone cold and calculating, "to your posts. In one week, we begin the hostilities."

The words hung in the air like a decree of doom, and the assembly responded with a final, fervent round of applause. Plans had been set in motion, and in just seven days, their world-altering campaign would begin.

——

Author: Sorry for not posting yesterday, I was so tired that I completely forgot about it.