Chapter 60: Recruit ???

Chapter 60: Recruit ???

An hour later, the speedboats cut through the dark waters, heading straight for a naval military base that housed more than 20 warships. The atmosphere was tense, with the distant silhouettes of patrol boats growing larger as they closed in on Leonard's team. Within moments, several patrol boats flanked them, their powerful searchlights glaring down on the speedboats. Armed guards trained their weapons on them from every angle.

A crackling voice boomed from the loudspeaker of one of the patrol boats: "You are entering a military zone. Halt immediately and identify yourselves!"

Graves, unshaken, stood up in the glaring beam of the searchlight. He raised his Foundation badge and his armband, prominently displaying the Resh-1 logo. His voice rang out above the churning waves. "We're MTF Resh-1. We're on a mission to protect a VIP."

A brief pause followed, then the loudspeaker blared again. "There is no record of any authorized nighttime mission in this area. You are in violation—"

Graves cut him off, his tone turning sharp. "You fool, we're operating under direct orders from the Administrator himself, on an escort mission that doesn't require pre-clearance. Now, tell me, who's the only one with the authority to override your clearance system?"

A tense silence hung in the air. The searchlight, which had been fixed on Graves, slowly turned towards the center of the formation. The light fell on Leonard, standing tall in his signature mask, his silent presence commanding immediate respect.

The loudspeaker crackled back to life, this time with an audible note of urgency. "Our apologies, sir. We didn't mean any disrespect. We will escort you to the base immediately."

With that, the patrol boats adjusted their formation, now guiding the speedboats through the heavily guarded waters toward the military base.

As they disembarked, the operatives of Resh-1 immediately formed a tight circle around Leonard, weapons at the ready, their vigilance heightened. In the distance, a man in a navy blue military uniform with a beret approached at a brisk pace, followed by two high-ranking officers. The trio stopped a few meters from the group, snapping into a salute with military precision. 

The man in the middle, speaking with a nervous edge to his voice, introduced himself loudly, "I am Admiral Joachim Meyer, Site Director of Zone-Mem. Welcome to the naval base, sir. It's an honor to have you."

Leonard gestured for his guards to step aside, creating a path as he walked toward Meyer. He returned the salute with a calm and steady voice. "The pleasure is mutual," Leonard replied.

Meyer, still somewhat tense but respectful, quickly asked how he could assist. Leonard's response was direct: "Prepare as much space as possible, and keep the runways clear. We're going to have a lot of people arriving."

---

Lina woke up in her room at Site-17, the familiar routine already settling in as she quickly donned her uniform. The clock read 6 a.m., and as usual, Colonel Mendoza was standing outside her door, punctual as ever. Together, they walked toward the cafeteria for breakfast, joining the rest of Omega-7. Mendoza clapped his hands, gaining everyone's attention.

"I've got two updates for you," he announced, his tone firm but casual. "First, a new special asset will be joining the team today, expected to arrive around 10 a.m. Second, we'll be heading to Zone-Mem at 20:00 tonight for a new operation. Full briefing at 18:00."

The team started whispering amongst themselves after the announcement. Speculation buzzed around the table as they tried to guess who this new member might be. 

"Do you think it's someone with fire powers?" one of them suggested, leaning forward with curiosity.  

"Nah, maybe some kind of telepath. It's been a while since we had one of those."  

Another chimed in, shaking his head. "I bet it's someone from another site altogether. Who knows what kind of powers they've got."

As the conversation continued, the door to the cafeteria swung open, and five heavily armed soldiers marched in, their steps synchronized. The air in the room shifted immediately—conversations died down, replaced by curious, uneasy glances. The soldiers wore black uniforms, each with a red armband featuring an ominous logo: a hand pierced by an arrow.

Lina, feeling the tension, whispered, "Who are they?"

One of the Omega-7 members sitting next to her leaned in and murmured, "That's Alpha-1, the Red Right Hand."

Lina's brows furrowed. "What's Alpha-1?" she asked, her voice quiet but curious.

Her teammate explained, keeping his voice low. "Alpha-1 is one of the 'Big 3' MTFs. They answer directly to the O5 Council. If they're here, it's serious."

"The Big 3?" Lina blinked in confusion, unfamiliar with the term.

"Yeah," her teammate continued, glancing warily at the Alpha-1 operatives. "It's what people call the three most secretive and authoritative MTF units in the Foundation. Resh-1, Alpha-1, and Omega-1. Resh-1 serves the Administrator directly, as you already know. Alpha-1 works for the O5 Council. And Omega-1... well, they work for the Ethics Committee."

He spat the last part with evident disdain.

Lina caught the bitterness in his voice. "What's wrong with Omega-1?" she asked.

"They're the ones who go after Foundation personnel under orders from the Ethics Committee. Doesn't matter if you're a high-ranking researcher or just following orders. If the Committee deems you've done something wrong, Omega-1 will handle you—usually not in a way you'd like." He glanced down at his plate, his jaw tight with distaste.

Lina felt a chill run through her. The thought of being targeted by Omega-1 unsettled her, and she found herself looking at the Alpha-1 soldiers differently. There was something about them, an air of finality, as if they were walking weapons meant to be unleashed only in the gravest situations.

As they continued their quiet discussions, the presence of Alpha-1 loomed large in the room, a reminder of the shadows that moved behind the scenes in the Foundation.

One of the Alpha-1 operatives grabbed a megaphone and barked out, "All personnel, finish your meals in five minutes and exit the room. Omega-7, remain seated." Every head in the cafeteria snapped toward Omega-7 as a wave of confusion washed over them. Their expressions were a mix of curiosity and uncertainty. Lina glanced around, unsure of what was going on. 

"Why just us?" she whispered to one of her teammates.

"I don't know," came the reply, the same look of bewilderment on their face.

In a matter of moments, the cafeteria cleared out, and Omega-7 sat isolated in the room, glancing at each other. The doors swung open again, and in walked more Alpha-1 operatives, but this time, they were accompanied by three suited and masked figures. The entire team recognized the insignia right away—O5 Command. The two figures flanking the center wore the O5 badge, but the one in the middle carried a more significant symbol. It was O5-4.

The moment the Omega-7 team saw him, they all shot to their feet, saluting sharply.

"We salute the Overseer," they said in unison, their voices stiff, trying to hide their apprehension.

Lina, though still a little shaky, followed suit, standing and saluting just like her comrades. Her eyes darted between the masked figures, trying to make sense of the situation. 

To her surprise, O5-4 casually approached and sat down at the table directly across from her. As the Alpha-1 operatives took their positions around the room, the other two masked individuals did the same, each grabbing trays of food as if this was a normal breakfast.

O5-4 removed his mask, much to the shock of everyone at the table. Omega-7 exchanged wide-eyed glances, trying to hide their astonishment. The man before them was surprisingly young, possibly in his twenties, with a boyish grin plastered on his face.

He met Lina's gaze, and with a light laugh, he said, "So, I hear you're the only one who's survived a direct encounter with the Administrator." His words were casual, but there was an underlying tone of respect. 

Lina blinked, completely caught off guard. "I—uh—yes, sir," she stammered.

O5-4 chuckled again, seemingly amused by her reaction. "That's quite the feat, you know. Not many people can say they've gone toe-to-toe with the Administrator and lived to tell the tale."

The rest of Omega-7 remained silent, unsure of how to respond to this unexpected casualness from someone as high-ranking as an Overseer. 

Then, as if reading the room, O5-4 leaned back in his seat and sighed. "Let me tell you something you probably don't know," he said, his tone shifting to something more serious. "Omega-7 is the Administrator's favorite task force. Anytime there's a major issue, his first thought is to deploy you."

This revelation left the entire team stunned. They exchanged incredulous looks, trying to process what they had just heard.

Lina furrowed her brow. "Us? His favorite?"

O5-4 nodded, still smiling. "Yup. I'm not even allowed to touch or deploy you guys," he added, shaking his head in mock disbelief. "That's how much he likes you."

For a moment, the atmosphere lightened as the team tried to wrap their heads around the idea of being the Administrator's preferred force. But then, without warning, O5-4's smile vanished. He straightened in his chair, and his expression turned deadly serious.

"Now, enough jokes," he said, his voice carrying a weight that hadn't been there before. "I'm here because I've got a bad feeling about this next operation."

The air in the room shifted, and everyone's attention was immediately focused on him. 

"You've fought anomalies and cultists before, sure. But this... this is going to be different," he continued. "You're heading into a war zone, and this time, it's not just human enemies you'll be facing."

Omega-7 sat in rapt silence as O5-4 spoke, the gravity of his words sinking in. 

"You'll be fighting an entire army made up of anomalies," he explained. "You'll be fighting alongside the French military, the Gendastrerie, and a group of interest known as the Order of Light. This isn't going to be a simple operation—it's going to be chaotic, brutal, and nothing like you've ever faced before."

One of the Omega-7 members raised a hand hesitantly. "Sir, what exactly is the Order of Light?" 

O5-4 shot him a quick glance, then continued. "The Order of Light is a group dedicated to combating demonic and anomalous threats. They've been doing this for centuries, and they're powerful. But even they're not enough to handle what's coming."

He took a deep breath and dropped the final bombshell. "This operation will involve eight MTF units, 100 tactical teams, and more than 2,000 operatives. There's even a chance that other groups might join the fight. This is going to be bigger than anything we've ever done before."

Lina's heart raced as she listened, realizing the magnitude of what lay ahead. She exchanged glances with her teammates, and they all shared the same thought—this was going to be unlike anything they had ever encountered.

O5-4 leaned forward, his eyes locking onto each of them in turn. "Make no mistake," he said, his voice low and intense, "this is going to be a bloodbath. And the only question is whether you're ready for it."

O5-4 turned his gaze toward Lina, his expression serious but with a slight smirk. "And you—try not to get yourself killed out there. The Administrator seems to value you a bit more than I'm comfortable with."

He downed the rest of his meal in one swift motion, setting the plate down before addressing them again. "Oh, and by the way, your new recruit arrived earlier than expected. She's already on the training grounds. You might want to go introduce yourselves."

Without waiting for a response, O5-4 stood up, disposed of his tray, and motioned for the Alpha-1 operatives to follow him. One by one, they filed out of the cafeteria, leaving Omega-7 behind. 

Mendoza watched them leave before pushing back his chair and standing up himself. "Alright, team, we've wasted enough time. Our new recruit's waiting for us," he said, his tone commanding but with a hint of curiosity.

The rest of Omega-7 followed suit, clearing their trays and heading as a group toward the training grounds. As they approached, a series of loud crashes echoed through the air. The sound of metal striking the earth with tremendous force made Lina's stomach tighten. 

"What the hell's going on?" she asked, her eyes narrowing as she scanned the area.

Suddenly, an abandoned car flew overhead, smashing into the ground nearby with a thunderous crash. The team halted in their tracks, stunned. Just as they were about to move closer, the supervisor of the training grounds came sprinting toward Mendoza, looking frantic.

"Colonel!" he gasped. "You've got to do something! Your recruit—she's tearing the place apart! She's completely out of control!"

Mendoza's eyebrows furrowed, and the rest of Omega-7 exchanged confused glances behind him. "Let's go," he ordered, picking up the pace. Together, they jogged toward the source of the destruction, the sounds of metal and concrete being ripped apart growing louder with every step.

As they reached the training grounds, they were met with the sight of dozens of MTF operatives gathered around, watching the chaos unfold. Omega-7 pushed through the crowd, and Lina caught sight of a blonde-haired teenager, probably around her age, standing in the middle of the field. She was dressed in the standard Omega-7 training gear, but that wasn't what caught Lina's attention.

The girl had her hand shoved into what looked like a framed photo, her entire arm disappearing into it. Before Lina could process what she was seeing, a giant hand—some sort of projection—materialized in front of the girl, mimicking her movements. With one swift motion, the giant hand punched another abandoned car, sending it flying across the training ground and crashing into a concrete wall with a deafening thud.

Mendoza's eyes widened, clearly taken aback by the sheer power on display. He stormed forward, cutting through the crowd until he was standing directly in front of the girl.

"Recruit!" he barked. "Identify yourself!"

The girl turned to face him, a wide, proud smile on her face. "Iris Thompson," she announced, standing tall. "Codename SCP-105. Newly recruited special asset for Omega-7 'Pandora Box'." 

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Information:

O5 Command and O5 Council aren't exactly the same. The O5 Council is the council of thirteen people that rule the Foundation, while O5 Command is made up of:

- O5 Council

- O5 Staff:

- Factotum: Act as personal bodyguards, assistants, and decoys for O5 members. 

- Delegation: Handles important work of the Foundation that isn't directly managed by the O5 Council (Ex: O4 Council in Germany)