Chapter 505 - 457: Descent (6K)
London time, 4:35 AM
minutes until deep crimson alert arrives.
It’s beginning to drizzle from the sky. Next to Whitehall, in the Westminster District, beneath the compound alloy fiber reinforced concrete defensive layers of several meters thick of No. 10 Downing Street, an underground bunker.
The elites of Great Britain scurried through the intricate network of tunnels, each clutching one or more phones, racing against time to gather intel, communicate information, and seek assistance.
Armed officers, plainclothes agents, and soldiers dispatched urgently had no clue of what was happening and could only stand at the corridors’ doorways, acting as security statues.
Meanwhile, they perked their ears, attempting to piece together the truth of the event from the snatches of conversation leaking from the surrounding cacophony of phone calls.
In the innermost meeting room of the underground bunker, laden with smoke and disorder, the temporarily summoned Indian-origin Chancellor of the Exchequer wore a look of distress, smoking intensely.
The royal family and the Prime Minister’s spouse were immediately evacuated; he, the Chancellor, was temporarily dragged in to serve as the wartime leader.
Or perhaps, the ultimate scapegoat.
His left hand holding the cigarette trembled incessantly, forcing the Chancellor to slap the table forcefully with his right hand, shouting with resolve, "Request, GOC for assistance! Request, Holy Temple Knights for assistance! Request, European Heavy Industry for assistance! Request, Prometheus for assistance!"