Selim wore his usual outfit, carrying a notebook that he occasionally glanced at while talking.

His voice carried far. The entire unit listened to him in rapt attention.

"The objective of the mission is to capture a foreign enemy agent. He's buried himself deep within the bunker. 'Easy,' you say? No one?" Selim's finger scanned the troops. There was no response. "Ok, good. No one. Because it’s heckin hard! This bastard has barricaded himself in there, one of our decommissioned bunkers, and unfortunately, he's a genius artificer. He's rigged the whole place, a few kilometers of labyrinthine corridors he's chosen for his grave. Ah, no. Remember, we want him alive, if possible." Selim seemed to lose himself in his speech.

He cleared his throat, glanced at his notebook, and continued: "So, we're going to proceed as follows: Two teams of two will enter the bunker first. Once inside, they'll separate. Each group will have a metal detector; this should allow them to avoid most traps. For the rest, I rely on their good judgment to survive." He uttered these words with a hint of unease, betraying the difficulty he had in concealing that he was sending these men to their deaths.

"These two teams have the mission to disable most traps and, if possible, capture the target. If we don't hear from the men leading this first assault after twelve hours, the second assault team will step in. This team will come to the aid of the first team, and capture the target." Selim pointed at a group of men standing right in front of him.

"Any questions?" he asked.

No one spoke.

"Perfect, start plasticizing the door, we start in fifteen minutes." He concluded, descending from the vehicle.

Lug turned his head towards Atlan.

"How is listening to this speech supposed to save my life? Accepting this mission sounds more like suicide than anything else," said Luke, squinting his eyes.

He already regretted not having listened to Hannah.

Atlan closed his eyes and slowly nodded.

"Yes..." he simply said.

"But... why did you accept?" Luke asked.

"I have no choice," said Atlan, grabbing his strapped weapon with both hands and checking if a bullet was in the chamber.

He added nothing to this statement.

Luke watched him head towards the bunker door.

Around the door, two men were carefully placing explosives.

There wasn't much time left before the assault began.

Luke decided to talk to Selim while there was still time.

He went towards the armored vehicle from which he had made his speech, that's where he saw him, near the vehicle.

Several large dark gray boxes were on the ground, stacked on top of each other.

Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.

Selim was sitting on one of them, talking to several men around him.

"Hey, I have a question," said Luke, raising his hand as he approached the small group.

Selim's men turned with curiosity.

Of all the unit members he had seen, these men were the most intimidating.

They were five, all older than the other unit members.

Luke guessed they were around 35, unlike the other members who were at most in their late twenties. They were older but also better equipped. Their bulletproof vests covered their shoulders, necks, and even their hips. In addition, each had some kind of metal mask hanging from their belts.

"Who are these men?" wondered Luke as he approached.

Selim looked at Luke with furrowed eyebrows. He sighed, then replied: "If you had questions, you should have asked when I was presenting, now go find your partner and prepare for the assault."

As he said this, two of the men present blocked Luke's path, who was still a few meters from Selim.

Luke looked at these men - who were slightly taller than him - defiantly.

"Attack one of my men, I'll arrest you for treason. Disobey my orders, I'll arrest you for treason. Sabotage the mission, I'll arrest you for treason," repeated Selim, looking at Luke.

These words sounded both like a threat and a provocation.

In the Lab’s terminology, being arrested for treason probably meant execution.

After all, Luke was not unaware of this man's antipathy towards him.

Luke took no chances and stepped back, then walked away.

He did not look back but guessed Selim's expression of satisfaction.

"I don't have time for this, the only thing that matters today is survival," Luke thought.

Drawing close to the entrance, Luke cast a glance over the scene that awaited him.

On one side stood Atlan, a silent sentinel in the eye of the storm.

On the other, a mismatched duo had assembled.

The first, a man closer to thirty than twenty, wore his equipment in a way that spoke of chaotic urgency.

The left shoulder of his bulletproof vest hitched up higher than the right - as though he'd spent a fitful night with it on. One trouser leg was tucked into his boot, the other loose. His greasy, long, unkempt hair and rough beard gave him a wild, disordered mien. And, oddly enough, he brandished not one but two machetes.

Next to him, a fresh-faced youngster was his polar opposite.

Every piece of his gear sat in the proper place - a picture of order in the midst of entropy.

They didn't speak. They simply stood, prepared to launch into the mission at a moment's notice.

Ripping his attention away from the unusual pair, Luke addressed Atlan.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"It's impossible to be ready for this," was the frosty response.

Luke offered a resigned sigh of agreement.

Minutes passed until the bunker door was primed for detonation.

"One more minute!" came the call from a man a few yards off, a remote control in his hand - no doubt the trigger to initiate the explosion.

The quiet before the storm gave Luke an opportunity to seek an answer to a burning question. "Why did you tell me you had no choice?" he asked Atlan.

Leaning against the cold surface of the bunker wall, Atlan turned a look of mild irritation towards Luke.

"You're really bad at asking questions. Like... Not the question itself, it's more the timing," he said.

With a shift in tone, he added, "Get ready, everything is going to happen very fast," Picking up his assault rifle, Atlan began to prepare himself.

Luke turned his head to look at the man holding the remote.

He had three fingers up.

Then two.

Then one.

Luke instinctively laid his hand on the hilt of his sword.

The world shook with the force of the detonation, ripping open the once-solid door.

Even before the dust could settle, the motley duo were advancing, disappearing into the belly of the bunker.

The elder led, the younger one hot on his heels, one hand gripping his shoulder.

In a moment of indecision, Luke wondered if he should follow. But Atlan interrupted his internal debate.

"Wait, we go in 30 seconds after them," he stated.

At Atlan's command to "Grab my shoulder and turn on your flashlight," Luke obeyed, reaching out for Atlan and flicking on his chest-mounted flashlight.

With a simple, "Okay, let's go," Atlan began to move.

Luke trailed behind him, hand on his shoulder, as they crossed the threshold from sunlight to darkness.

The air inside the bunker was cold and stale, a harsh contrast to the warmth they'd left behind.