Chapter 42: Jaws

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In the wake of the startling revelation about the true essence of the tunnels, Ranesk commanded all agents to converge upon the base of operations. There, a crucial discussion awaited, and deep within himself, Ranesk pondered the involvement of warp sorcery, momentarily swayed by such thoughts. Yet, to his dismay, this conjecture was proven misplaced. Ranesk instructed the generals to dispatch recovery teams to each tunnel, for the disclosure of this clandestine passageway had inadvertently exposed the adversary's concealed whereabouts. Curiously enough, it appeared that the enemy had displayed no inclination to guard these subterranean passages.

As the cleanup personnel toiled tirelessly, they recovered the mangled remains of fallen soldiers as well as slain cultists strewn within the tunnels. However, those dispatched to the precise tunnel wherein Omen and Tyberos had ventured discovered only grotesquely mutilated corpses, their identities beyond recognition.

—----

Within the command center, a makeshift tent serving as their sanctuary, Phoenix, Jett, Viper, and Ranesk stood in anticipation, awaiting the arrival of their comrades. The surrounding men were a flurry of activity, vehicles zipping by, and hazmat-clad figures of the recovery teams weaving through the scene. The skies above teemed with the constant churning of helicopters, a mix of military and civilian aircraft. Regrettably, the agents and soldiers had acquiesced to the approval for media coverage, much to Ranesk's dismay.

A reporter approached, voicing the unfolding operation to the world. 'As we can see here, there seems to be an ongoing operation, government forces as well as foreign ones appear to be involved.' the reporter relayed. 'And for the first time ever, Valorant Agents can be seen with no secrecy, as back then. They usually did their best to hide their identities.'

Dozens of journalists surrounded them, eagerly awaiting the signal to go inside of the base. Positioned outside the base of operations, they were being guarded by military police, who were distinctly outnumbered. Though foreign news outlets maintained a respectful distance as instructed, their local counterparts paid no heed to such warnings.

"Let us in!" a reporter bellowed, his voice reverberating through the air. "the world demands to know this! Or are you hiding something malicious?!" Echoes of agreement surged from the crowd as the military police strained to maintain control. However, the tide began to turn as the journalists pushed forward, defying the orders given.

As tensions escalated, warning shots were discharged. "Step back! The green light has not been given!" one of the military police personnel shouted, desperately trying to regain order. Amidst the chaos, Ranesk strode forward, commanding attention with his mere presence. Instantly, a profound silence fell, as if the weight of his gaze instilled trepidation in their very souls.

"We demand--" the journalist attempted to assert himself.

"Silence," Ranesk's voice thundered, causing the reporter to flinch. "We shall neither divulge information nor entertain your inquiries at this time."

Seething with a blend of pride and entitlement, the journalist seethed, only to be abruptly silenced by the imposing figure before him. Towering at eight feet tall, clad in formidable armor that cast a shadow over his features, Ranesk emanated a palpable fury. Beads of sweat formed on the reporter's brow, his instincts urging him to flee.

The other reporters, their voices muted, recoiled in fear, their eyes fixed upon the intimidating scene unfolding before them. Ranesk continued his admonition, his words laced with a chilling warning. "I care not for your occupation, or your perception of me," he growled. "Leave."

The journalist's resolve crumbled, his body slumping to the ground in defeat. Though a lingering resentment smoldered within him, he found himself incapable of retaliating against the figure who loomed above him. Fear and anger blended in his gaze, casting a pallor over his face.

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