Reincarnated: Vive La France

The wreckage of the Renault FT sat in eerie silence.

The sun was beginning to set but the investigation was only just beginning.

Lieutenant Jean Fournier of the Gendarmerie Nationale stepped carefully over the perimeter rope, his polished boots pressing into the dirt as he surveyed the charred remains.

He had seen accidents before, but this didn't feel like one.

The two mechanics waiting beside the wreck Lefebvre and his assistant, Dumas stood stiffly, their hands still smeared with oil and soot.

They had been pulled off their routine duties and given a direct order: examine every inch of the Renault and determine the cause of the explosion.

Fournier turned to Lefebvre, who was already running his fingers over the twisted remains of the engine casing, his brow furrowed.

"Let's get to it," Fournier said, flipping open his notebook. "Tell me what you see."

Lefebvre grunted, crouching down as he ran a hand along the side of the engine. "Something's off."

Dumas, younger and more cautious, adjusted his cap before kneeling next to him. "It's not a normal engine failure. The casing is too warped, almost like it burst from the inside."

Fournier scribbled something down. "Could that happen under extreme heat?"

Lefebvre scoffed. "Not like this. These engines run hot, sure. But they don't just—"

He gestured at the mangled metal. "Detonate."

Dumas, his voice quieter, added, "If this were just heat buildup, the failure would be gradual. The crew would've noticed something wrong before it went off. But they didn't."

Fournier glanced up. "And what does that mean?"

Lefebvre exhaled sharply, wiping sweat from his forehead with his sleeve. "It means someone helped it fail."

The words hung in the air, heavy and unmistakable.

Lefebvre stood and gestured for Fournier to follow him toward the partially collapsed fuel system.

The smell of burnt gasoline still lingered, but beneath the soot, something else caught his attention.

He pointed at a thin, melted strip of metal near the engine's intake valves.

"That's where it started," he muttered. "See the warping? The fire spread outward, not inward."

Fournier narrowed his eyes. "So it wasn't an internal failure."

"No," Lefebvre confirmed. "It was tampered with."

Dumas, still kneeling, reached into his tool bag and pulled out a small chisel.

Carefully, he chipped away at a section of the twisted piping, revealing a thin, copper coil embedded in the damaged metal.

Fournier's breath hitched. "What the hell is that?"

Lefebvre's jaw tightened. "A detonator wire."

Silence.

Dumas exhaled, shaking his head. "No way this was an accident. Someone wanted this tank to go up in flames."

Fournier's grip on his notebook tightened.

He had walked into this expecting a simple case of mechanical failure.

Now he was standing in the middle of a deliberate act of sabotage.

Fournier stepped away from the wreckage and motioned for his two sergeants to approach.

"Lock down the maintenance records. I want a list of every man who touched this Renault in the last two weeks. Mechanics, tank crews, officers everyone."

One of the sergeants, a lean man with sharp eyes, nodded. "What about Moreau?"

Fournier hesitated for a brief second, then shook his head. "He wasn't near the tank before the explosion. We'll question him, but we're not jumping to conclusions."

The sergeant smirked. "Some in Paris might disagree."

Fournier ignored the comment.

This wasn't about politics, it was about facts.

He turned back to Lefebvre. "Tell me about the Renault's last maintenance cycle. Who worked on it?"

Lefebvre frowned, rubbing his chin. "Officially? Just my team. But…"

He hesitated. "The barracks have been busy. People move in and out of the maintenance bay all the time. Someone could've tampered with it during a shift change."

Fournier sighed, closing his notebook for a moment.

This was getting worse by the second.

"If this is sabotage," he said slowly, "then that means we're dealing with someone who has knowledge of armored vehicles. Someone who knew exactly how to rig the engine to explode without drawing attention."

Lefebvre nodded. "Whoever did this wasn't some half-trained recruit playing a prank. This was a professional job."

Dumas added, "And sir, this method of sabotage… it's not French."

Fournier's gaze snapped toward him. "Explain."

Dumas hesitated, glancing at Lefebvre for permission before speaking.

"I saw something like this before," he said carefully. "Years ago, during training exercises near the Belgian border. The Belgians had been dealing with sabotage attempts on their tanks someone had rigged their fuel lines to explode in a very similar way. They suspected foreign agents, but nothing was ever proven."

Fournier's mind raced through the implications.

If this wasn't just internal politics… if this was an outside operation… then the army had a much bigger problem than just a rogue saboteur.

Fournier strode toward the barracks, the tension in his shoulders tightening as he prepared for the next step in the investigation.

Inside, the first round of questioning was already underway.

Mechanics, tank crews, and junior officers were being pulled into separate rooms one by one, interrogated under the watchful eyes of the military police.

Fournier stepped into one of the rooms, where a young mechanic sat stiffly in a wooden chair, his uniform still stained with oil.

Across from him, a gendarme sat with a clipboard, scribbling notes.

The mechanic's hands were fidgeting, his expression tense.

Fournier sat down across from him, leveling a calm but firm gaze.

"You're nervous," he observed.

The mechanic swallowed hard. "I—I didn't do anything, sir."

"Good," Fournier said. "Then you won't mind answering a few questions."

The mechanic nodded quickly.

Fournier leaned forward slightly. "Do you know who was in the maintenance bay the night before the explosion?"

The mechanic hesitated. "Uh… I mean… there's always people moving through, but… well, I did see something strange."

Fournier's eyes narrowed. "Go on."

The mechanic licked his lips. "There was an officer. I didn't recognize him at first he wasn't one of the usual ones that checks in on us. But he was standing near the Renaults, like he was watching something."

Fournier's pulse quickened. "Describe him."

The mechanic furrowed his brow, thinking. "Tall, dark hair. Looked like an officer, but I couldn't see his insignia. And he left as soon as I walked in almost like he didn't want to be seen."

Fournier leaned back in his chair. "And you didn't report this?"

The mechanic looked down. "Didn't think it mattered at the time."

Fournier nodded slowly.

He knew what was coming next.

More questioning.

More uncertainty.

And more pressure to find answers before this became something bigger.

He glanced toward the door, where his sergeant was waiting with a list of officers stationed in Verdun.

They had their first lead.

And if they didn't handle it carefully, this was about to explode into something far bigger than just one sabotaged tank.