City: Altérion
Time: 3:18 PM
Zone: Alone
Several heavily armored gray sedans sliced through the traffic at high speed on the highway. At the center of this herd of steel rhinoceroses advanced a massive black jeep with opaquely tinted windows.
The speedsters, despite their imposing size, slalomed with baffling fluidity through the gaps left by other motorists, negotiating every curve without ever decelerating. Exiting the highway axis, the convoy lunged onto a narrower road, maintaining its hellish cadence.
On the sidewalks, civilians watched this uninterrupted parade of military vehicles with a hint of apprehension, as if witnessing a paramilitary faction holding the country in an iron grip.
Two police officers on patrol paused their coffee break to observe the procession. One of them, eyes locked onto the dark chassis, asked:
« Hey, Michel... Look at those armored vehicles. You think they're heading into a heavy arrest? »
His colleague shook his head negatively:
« I don't think so, Jackson. Look at the formation—that's a high-security escort detail. It's got to be someone very high up. »
The vehicles pursued their frantic race through the arteries of Alone. In the distance, a massive structure began to carve its silhouette into the landscape: the DGB headquarters.
In front of the main access, two sentries in Armored plating stood guard. At the approach of the convoy barreling at full throttle, they instantly stepped aside. One of the soldiers pressed the button on a tactical remote. The heavy steel gate rose rapidly; the very microsecond the opening was sufficient, the vehicles plunged through one after the other, without a single second wasted. The two sentries remained motionless, freezing in a rigorous military salute as the speedsters swept past at a precisely timed velocity of 93 km/h. In such a confined space, the slightest deceleration or a deviation of a single millimeter would have triggered a carnage.
The convoy plunged into the complex's subterranean structures before coming to a halt in single file within the offloading bay. The black jeep stopped dead in front of the interior access doors.
An instant later, the doors of all the armored cars swung open in unison. Dozens of heavy-plated soldiers dismounted, assault rifles in hand, to form a double honor guard, facing one another as they locked down the perimeter.
At the origin of this corridor of weapons, the door of the black jeep finally opened. A first silhouette emerged: the man wore an impeccable black tuxedo, leather gloves, and a cowboy hat of the same dark hue. His right hand firmly gripped the handle of a metallic briefcase. It was Charly—Charly Jean-Luc Dutruduk, the Invisible Marshal. In his direct wake appeared General Chronos, clad in his seemingly indestructible armor.
The two men stepped forward with a heavy, measured stride into the center of the honor guard. With every stride, Charly calmly readjusted the brim of his Borsalino. They crossed the threshold of the main building in perfect synchronization.
(Author's note: A Borsalino is a wide-brimmed hat model, here stylized in a cowboy fashion).
The DGB atrium was gargantuan. Dozens of operators in Armored gear crossed paths with agents in civilian clothes. The diversity of faces was striking: men and women of African, European, Asian, and North African descent composed the ranks of the organization.
But the moment the sliding doors parted and all eyes locked onto the identity of the new arrivals, a leaden silence, comparable to that of a graveyard, crashed over the immense hall. Conversations ceased instantly. Agents parted immediately to clear a central axis, freezing at attention in a flawless military salute.
Charly and Chronos had barely taken ten steps before the atmosphere became radically electrified.
« GOOD DAY, CHIEF OFFICERS! » hundreds of voices present roared, vibrating the glass roofs of the hall.
Chronos soberly raised a gloved hand to acknowledge them:
« Good day, soldiers. How do you stand? »
The response shot back, unanimous and sharp as a blade:
« ENOUGH TO FIGHT, MY MARSHAL! »
A smile stretched across Charly's lips as he witnessed this fervor. This display of discipline sincerely warmed his heart:
« Ah, I see my reputation precedes me. It has been a very long time since I witnessed such energy. Tell me, dear operators, to which corps do you belong? »
« WE ARE THE FBESTA! »
Charly feigned ignorance, cupping his ear:
« I didn't hear a thing! And you too, Chronos, remind me... Who are you guys? »
Then, every single soul present in the atrium, Chronos included, projected their voice with all their might:
« FBESTA! »
Charly, raising his tone to dominate the crowd while gesturing with his left arm, launched:
« I don't give a damn about your acronym! Give me the meaning of that freaking name! »
« ARMORED FORCE AGAINST AROKIM TERRORISM! »
Charly provoked the crowd:
« Repeat that louder! »
The entire garrison roared:
« ARMORED FORCE AGAINST AROKIM TERRORISM! »
Charly pushed his voice even higher, index finger pointing toward the heavens:
« I note with pride that the younger generation still possesses the mindset of a warrior! I love it! Right... now, one final question. Anyone who doesn't answer drops for a thousand regulation push-ups... » He took a deep lungful of air before screaming: « Armored! »
The room, as a single block:
« IMMORTAL! »
Charly:
« Armored! »
The room:
« AKUFAKA TE! » (Note: "He never dies" in Lingala)
Charly:
« Tolerance! »
The room:
« ZERO! »
Charly:
« Soldier! »
The room:
« FEARLESS! »
Charly:
« Death! »
The room:
« DEATH IS BUT A STEP! LIFE IS BUT A FIGHT! EVIL MUST BE ERADICATED LIKE THE PLAGUE! »
Charly let out a genuine laugh, savoring the moment. He sighed with ease, sweeping the assembly with his eyes before adopting a warmer tone:
« Alright, give yourselves a round of applause, dear operators! Go ahead, you've amply earned it! »
The accumulated tension dissipated instantly. Waves of thunderous applause erupted throughout the hall, and numerous faces relaxed, giving way to proud smiles. Charly covered them with an almost paternal gaze. He spoke again:
« On a more serious note... I am deeply moved to see that the soul of the Armored units has remained intact. In a few years, our elite corps will celebrate its two centuries of existence—that is two half-centuries of history and sacrifices. But each new generation brings with it greater courage and more exceptional talents than the last. Standing before me today, I see only men and women inhabited by the sacred fire, living examples of bravery who have proven their worth on the field. Sincerely... »
He lowered his eyes to his briefcase for a brief moment, then raised his head, a broad smile on his face:
« Thank you all. Thank you for proving to me that when I am permanently gone, great warriors will remain to pick up the torch and lead the war against super-terrorism. I wish you all to become even greater legends than Marshal Tornade or Marshal Diablo ever were. Good luck with your future campaigns. Dismissed, soldiers. »
The applause redoubled in intensity, sweeping the room with unparalleled fervor. Even General Chronos joined his hands to calmly strike the rhythm.
Charly resumed his march toward the elevator shaft, flanked by Chronos. The two high-ranking officials stepped into the glass cabin under the continuous ovations of the troops. As the armored doors began to seal, Chronos slipped with a hint of irony:
« You just served us, word for word, the exact same speech from twenty years ago. »
« Oh? I didn't even notice », Charly replied, adjusting his hat.
The elevator catapulted them toward the summits of the complex, stopping at the penultimate level. The doors opened onto a corridor that seemed to stretch into infinity. They progressed through a long, heavy silence that felt even more interminable than the gallery itself.
Chronos finally took the initiative to break the calm:
« By the way, I wanted to forewarn you: two high-ranking officers are currently waiting for me in my office. They are Major Alfa and Colonel Méduse. She is the one tipped to sit in my chair upon my retirement. »
« Oh, I see », Charly mused, his mind alert. « She must display extraordinary competence to vie for the rank of general at her age. »
Chronos nodded with a tone tinged with pride:
« Absolutely. She boasts an insolent 87% success rate across all her tactical deployments. Furthermore, she is the youngest colonel in the entire history of our corporation. At only twenty-four years old, she has become a true icon for the female personnel of the DGB. »
Charly made a slight face, tinged with a hint of a former competitor's frustration:
« Oh... So she shattered my own record for precocity. Interesting. I look forward to seeing what she's made of. »
They finally arrived at the end of the gallery, facing a double door topped with an official plaque: Office of the General. Strangely, muffled shouting, furious screams, and blunt impact noises leaked from within, suggesting that a violent physical altercation was unfolding inside. Charly and Chronos froze on the threshold for a moment, stunned by such a racket.
Chronos pushed one of the doors open, unveiling a scene that was unusual, to say the least.
A young woman had just hoisted an officer off the ground at arm's length, choking him with a single hand against a wall. Her fierce face was marked by a thin vertical scar on her left cheek, which died at the corner of her lips. The man, of Caucasian descent, sported long hair stopping at his earlobes. The breastplate of the woman's armor was stamped with the emblem of a stylized medusa, while that of her victim bore the letter "A". The colonel's features were distorted by rage, her free fist cocked, ready to strike.
But when her gaze crossed that of the legendary Marshal Dutruduk, her heart skipped a beat and her muscles froze instantly.
Capitalizing on his attacker's shock, Major Alfa flashed a smirk and, with a voice raspy from strangulation, launched:
« Méduse, I think you're about to have problems, but I can't prove it. »