Los Angeles defector

Sandy's Tears

Even if one wanted to spend money to rent a house, it wasn't that easy. Many locals, because they had rented their houses to the Independent Regiment, ended up sharing homes with others, leading to a shortage of available houses. Martin, with his long legs, wandered around the village, inquiring and asking around tirelessly, until he finally found a place. Surrounded by dilapidated mud walls, with two shaky wooden doors, the yard was quite spacious, but unfortunately desolate and empty, with only a tall soapberry tree growing in one corner of the yard. The tree had a sturdy trunk, indicating many years of age. The house faced north and south, with two rooms and a small kitchen attached to the west end.

The landlord was Susan. Her family used to be wealthy, but in recent years, her husband passed away unexpectedly, and their wealth gradually declined. When Martin mentioned renting the house and offered a dollar a year, in the impoverished and remote area of Great North Manor, who would rent a house? The asking price seemed quite high, but Martin was determined. He negotiated and raised the offer to two dollars a year, which nearly stunned Susan. She agreed on the spot, pocketed the two dollars, and returned to her mother's house.

Martin is not a fool. His actions were driven by two reasons: firstly, to maintain a good relationship with the landlord and avoid future troubles, and secondly, since the money wasn't coming out of his own pocket, he simply didn't care whether Robert Wealthy was already crying in a corner.

Upon entering, there was a room with a kitchen to the left and a doorway on the right leading to another room with a curtain hanging in the doorway. Jason was very satisfied and led Martin to quickly tidy up the house and move in. Emily led Robert Wealthy to quietly bring her belongings back from the kitchen, setting up her own little nest in the inner room. She was as happy as a squirrel that had found a tree hollow, bouncing around joyfully.

With the room tidied up, Jason sat at the rickety table, placing the machine g*n and the Type 38 rifle he had brought back from the valley on the table. He began disassembling them for maintenance, instructing Martin to go and find Sandy Sniffles.

Martin initially wanted to sit down and clean his own g*n, but when he heard Jason asking him to find Sandy, he hesitated a bit and said, "Bro, why do we need to find him? That guy doesn't even consider himself part of our group. We'd be better off without him, less trouble for us."

Jason, busy with his task, didn't even look up and said, "If he were still the squad leader, I wouldn't care about him, and he wouldn't care about me. Out of sight, out of mind. But now that I'm the squad leader, I can't tolerate his nonsense any longer! Stop talking and go find him now."

When we were in Nameless Village, that useless Sandy was causing trouble. Today at lunch in the kitchen, he was acting all high and mighty, making a fool of himself. Now that I've been forced to become the squad leader, I have to straighten out this carefree rookie.

Martin, feeling helpless, got up and left.

Jason then said to Robert Wealthy, who was lying on the tattered bed, panting heavily, "Don't just sit around, go find me a rope."

Jason then said to Robert Wealthy, who was lying on the tattered bed, panting heavily, "Don't just sit around, go find me a rope."

However, Robert Wealthy continued to mutter to himself, "Martin is just a clueless i***t. Susan clearly wanted one dollar, but this fool Martin gave her two dollars. Is he deliberately trying to annoy me? Jason, why aren't you doing anything about this?"

Jason turned to look at the tearful Robert Wealthy and said, "Are you done yet? Or should I give you a dollar?"

Upon hearing this, and seeing Jason's seemingly indifferent expression, Robert Wealthy quickly sat up and said, "I'll go find the rope, I'll go find the rope, alright?" In his mind, he muttered to himself, "Find a rope for what? Are we going to clean guns with a rope? There's not a single normal person in this ninth squad except for me!"

Sandy Sniffles, as usual, leaned against a wall soaking up the sun in a new pair of trousers, but inside, he felt frozen. Having had his pants publicly torn off, exposing his bare bottom, he felt like he could never show his face again. Lost in melancholy thoughts about the desolation of life, he was abruptly interrupted by the merciless arrival of Martin. Without rhyme or reason, Martin dragged him into a courtyard and pushed him through the door of a strange house.

Upon entering, Sandy Sniffles realized that this was the nest of the ninth squad. Still unsure of what was happening, Sandy found himself at a table where Jason, busy cleaning a g*n, without even looking up, ordered, "Mule, tie up this waste of space for me!"

Upon entering, Sandy Sniffles realized that this was the nest of the ninth squad. Still unsure of what was happening, Sandy found himself at a table where Jason, busy cleaning a g*n, without even looking up, ordered, "Mule, tie up this waste of space for me!"

"What are you looking at? I said tie him up!"

Robert Wealthy is both timid and fearful when it comes to physical altercations and being on the battlefield, as he is an insecure person. In the past, he would never have had the courage to do such things, simply being a punching bag for bigger and stronger individuals. However, at noon today in the mess hall with the Second Platoon, he engaged in a scuffle with Sandy Sniffles, breaking new ground. On one hand, he was coerced by Emily, and on the other hand, Jason was behind him, so he exerted force. During and after the incident, he did not feel panicked as he had in the past; instead, he felt a sense of relief throughout his body. Being the center of attention, he basked in the surprised gazes of others, relishing the experience. It seems that in the future, it will be necessary for him to show off his strength more often in safe situations.

Having spent an extra dollar on renting the house, the anger still lingered in his heart, making him all the more pleased to see others in trouble. Sandy Sniffles, no longer hesitating, grabbed the equally confused Sandy Sniffles and effortlessly pinned him to the ground, beginning to tie him up.

"Ah, what are you, what are you doing? What are you doing? I'll sue you, I'll sue you! I..." Sandy Sniffles finally panicked, trying to struggle, but it was useless. Robert Wealthy's strength was too great, and in a moment, he was tied up and lying on the ground unable to move. Jason casually threw a piece of cloth to Robert Wealthy, instructing him to gag Sandy Sniffles as well, finally quieting the room.

No one knew what was wrong with Jason. Emily also ran out from the inner room, looking surprised at the scene, but she didn't say anything.

Ignoring the questioning gazes of the others, Jason calmly reassembled the cleaned parts and neatly arranged the two guns on the table. Only then did he stand up, grabbed a piece of cloth to wipe his hands, and walked over to Sandy Sniffles. He said to Emily, "Girl, go stand guard outside the main door. Stop standing there in a daze, hurry up."

What does Jason want to do? He wants to discipline Sandy Sniffles. Jason served as a soldier for eight years, starting from a private and working his way up to sergeant, platoon leader, and company commander. He went to military school and eventually rose in rank to major. How to discipline a new recruit like Sandy Sniffles was not even a question for him. The discipline of the Resistance Army strictly prohibited such actions, but Jason didn't have that level of enlightenment nor did he have the patience to argue. As the leader of the ninth platoon, it was his responsibility to set the rules. In the military, things remained the same over thousands of years—just different faces. This was the unwritten rule of being a soldier. In reality, there was no need for someone to stand guard; Jason just didn't want the young girl to witness this, so he used the excuse to send her outside.

Martin, now understanding the situation, anxiously said, "Bro, this won't do, you can't do this. This is a serious offense. If the regiment finds out, they will definitely strip you of your position as platoon leader!"

Jason smirked and playfully punched Martin on the shoulder, saying, "If this Sandy had half of your cleverness, I wouldn't even bother. You're right, I don't even want to be this platoon leader."

The little girl left the room but didn't go all the way to the main door. After spending so much time together, she had already figured out the temper of this fox. Whenever he had a blank expression with dark eyes, it meant a tendency towards violence. It seemed that Sandy was in for trouble again. The little girl stealthily crouched under the window sill, listening quietly to the sounds coming from inside the room.

As expected, not long after, there were waves of muffled groans coming from inside the room. Sandy's mouth was gagged, and he could only release his painful moans through his nose. The dull sound was more miserable and agonizing than open-mouthed screams, continuous and relentless. The little girl's heart clenched as she listened, tightening more and more until she couldn't bear it and instinctively reached out to cover her ears.

Martin sat on a stool with his back to Jason and Sandy on the floor, staring at the wall, scrunching his nose and furrowing his brows, forcing himself to divert his attention. Robert Wealthy sat at the edge of the bed, wide-eyed and unable to blink, holding his breath, mouth agape, unable to ease the difficulty of breathing, as if the cloth was suffocating him, causing a tingling sensation all over his body.

Jason then raised his foot and viciously kicked Sandy, causing him to roll into the corner of the wall. He rolled up his sleeves, wiped the sweat off his forehead, took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. It seemed like he was really sick, experiencing bouts of dizziness as if possessed. Beating Sandy seemed to give him a sense of relief, and the more he hit, the less he wanted to stop. Ever since the machine g*n platoon was wiped out, he felt an increasing urge for this kind of violence. Jason forced himself to calm down, walking over to where Sandy lay in painful fetal position, and squatted down beside him.

"Sandy, don't be sad. You should consider yourself lucky. Your body hasn't been engulfed in uncontrollable flames, your body hasn't been pierced by a bayonet and twisted inside, your body hasn't been torn apart by explosive impacts, scattered like autumn leaves falling to the ground, staining your comrades all over..." Jason whispered these irrelevant words to Sandy on the ground, but they left everyone inside and outside the room feeling numb.

"You're lucky to be alive. You shamelessly talk about giving your life back to the Ninth Platoon, but you're just a damn fart. Carrying a broken g*n and firing a few shots doesn't make you a man, does it? I'll make you meet the Ninth Platoon right now and see if you have the guts!" Jason said these words and immediately pinched Sandy's nose tightly.

As the air vanished, a sense of despair slowly enveloped Sandy—nausea, dizziness, loss of light, spasms, convulsions, until loss of control. Sandy's heart plummeted into the depths of extreme fear, unable to utter a sound. His heart was nearly torn apart by his own despair, leaving behind only a lonely sense of unwillingness.

Slowly, as if there was light again, as if there was air again, Sandy wanted to cough violently, greedily inhale, using all his strength to fight for that vitality and hope. At this moment, he didn't care about anything else; as long as he could escape from that endless dark abyss, Sandy didn't mind being humble, didn't mind betraying, didn't mind everything, as long as he could strive for...

At the last moment, Jason released his grip, pulling out the rag. "You coward. If you feel too ashamed to go to the Ninth Company, then have the guts to return to the Ninth Platoon for me. From now on, you better tuck your tail between your legs in front of me. Got it?"

Sandy cried, but strangely, this time he wasn't just crying in sadness; there was also a mix of tears of happiness, crying in a complex way that couldn't be understood by others, not even by himself. Amidst his sobs, he answered with two words: "Understood!"