Los Angeles defector

'Enemies' meet

The second squad meeting since the establishment of the Ninth Squad was held in the confinement room at the Great North Manor. As the Ninth Squad currently had no fixed residence, the meeting was temporarily held here. Perhaps, for the Ninth Squad, the feng shui at the confinement room was not bad. Jason sat half-leaning against the bedding at the head of the bed, playing with his pocket watch. Emily sat at the foot of the bed, crossing her legs, rummaging through her shoulder bag from time to time. Martin leaned against the door frame with his arms crossed, gazing at the ceiling. Robert Wealthy stood in the middle of the room, muttering to himself.

"I've been completely screwed over by you guys. What kind of Ninth Squad is this? We don't even have a proper place to stay. With my big frame, I have to squeeze into the new recruits' quarters. Everyone looks down on me, and I can't even get a decent night's sleep. Every time I doze off, someone kicks me. Look at what I've been reduced to!"

Emily interjected, "When they kick you, don't you kick back? Has all that strength of yours gone to waste?"

"How would I know who's kicking me? They always do it when I'm asleep. What can I do? If I find out who it is, you just wait and see..."

Emily rolled her eyes, "Tch, you're just a big clumsy bear, what other excuses are you looking for?"

Martin also chimed in, "Mule, your snoring is just too loud... I can hear it even from two rooms away. Sometimes I feel like going over there to kick you!"

"Hey, I'm telling you, it was you guys who begged me to join the Ninth Squad in the first place. Now you're turning the tables on me? Boss, now that you're the squad leader, you've got to stand up for me!"

"The Independent Regiment has just arrived, and the dormitories haven't even been built yet. We're all cramped, staying in borrowed homes of locals. The chief of staff just talks big, gave himself the title of squad leader, and then left without taking care of anything else, not even knowing where he should stay. However, Jason is not Sandy Sniffles after all. Even if he's unwilling to be the squad leader, he won't just be a negligent boss to deal with things poorly."

Jason closed his pocket watch and said, "You're right, we do need a place to stay. Martin, you'll take care of this in the afternoon."

Martin glared and exclaimed, "My goodness, buddy, the whole regiment has so little space, where are we going to find rooms? What do you expect me to do?"

Without even lifting his eyelids, Jason said, "Use money to solve it, go rent a place. It's best to find a standalone house with two rooms, one for us and a separate one for the girl ." Then, looking at Robert Wealthy, he added, "Mule, you'll foot the bill."

"What? I'm part of the resistance, and now I have to pay for sleep? Is there any justice in this? Why should I..." Robert Wealthy was about to strongly object, but suddenly noticed Jason's thoughtful gaze on him. He couldn't help but shiver and quickly changed his tune with a forced smile, "I'll pay, I'll pay, is that not good enough?"

Martin's furrowed brow relaxed as he appreciated the squad leader's solution. With the accommodation settled and the issue of the young girl resolved, Robert Wealthy no longer needed to complain. The conditions were even better than those of other units. He immediately nodded repeatedly, "Bro, no problem, I guarantee it'll be taken care of." After a pause, he added, "However, what should we do about those things buried in the valley? Should we really keep it hidden? This is no small matter; it might involve falsifying military intelligence."

Upon hearing this, the young girl immediately jumped off the bed and exclaimed, "Don't talk nonsense! How could there be falsifying military intelligence? I have already reported the truth. It's the captain who doesn't believe me. What can I do? Who can be blamed for this?"

Martin frowned at her and said, "You little troublemaker, you're not afraid of causing trouble. If this matter gets out, we'll be in big trouble. Just keep quiet about it!"

Jason glanced at the young girl, his thoughts differing from Martin's. Since things had already come to this point, how much worse could it get? It wouldn't come to dragging the whole ninth class out to be punished. As long as the young girl was happy, it didn't matter. So he said, "Let's just bury it for now. We'll figure out a solution when we can. Alright, let's go eat."

Slashmaster indeed had a strong body and a resilient will. Despite his injuries not yet fully healed, he refused to be stopped by the medic and insisted on moving around. He was the backbone, the core, and the soul of the second platoon. Gritting his teeth, he stood up and, wounded, returned to the second platoon. Finally, he helped lift the shadow over the surviving dozen soldiers of the second platoon at the nameless village, revitalizing them once more.

With a loud clang, the gate of the cookhouse courtyard was pushed open. Two soldiers from the second platoon stood on either side, holding the door wide open. Following them, a tall and sturdy soldier stepped in, his head, shoulders, and arms wrapped in bloodstained bandages. Despite being a wounded soldier, he carried a fierce momentum as he entered the courtyard. Behind him, a dozen or so soldiers from the second platoon streamed in, many of them also sporting bandages but appearing even more resolute and spirited.

The imposing presence made the new recruits in the courtyard, who were having lunch, feel intimidated, causing them to suddenly quiet down, hardly daring to breathe. Alex took a quick look and realized it was the second platoon arriving—it was no small matter. He promptly gestured to the new recruits at a long table nearby, "The second platoon is here, make some room for them." Then he hurried over to Slashmaster, "Captain Alan, your injuries haven't healed yet, why are you out here? Come sit down, I'll get your meals ready right away."

Upon hearing this, the new recruits at the table didn't utter a word and quickly scrambled to their feet, making way. They had all heard about the events at Nameless Village. In order to buy time for the civilians, the second platoon had fought fiercely and ruthlessly, living up to their reputation as the Sharpknife Platoon of the Independent Regiment. Now, witnessing the b****y momentum of the second platoon in the cookhouse courtyard, impressive! Who would dare to defy them?

Slashmaster, not one to be pretentious, without a second thought, sat down right in the middle, and a dozen or so soldiers quickly surrounded him, filling up the table perfectly.

Just as the second platoon had sat down, the door creaked again. With a squeak, the guy with dark eyebrows and narrow eyes pushed the door open and walked in coldly, as if he owned the place, followed closely by the mischievous little girl, then the big oaf and the clever Martin.

Jason noticed Slashmaster and the second platoon members but pretended not to see them, too lazy to bother with them. Emily saw Slashmaster and the second platoon members, and as she walked by, she deliberately wrinkled her nose and glared at them, hoping to annoy them. Robert Wealthy didn't know the second platoon and just breezed past. Martin initially thought to say hello but suddenly remembered he had joined the ninth squad, so he had to act as if he didn't see them.

As the four of them stopped at a table next to the second platoon, the new recruits at that table didn't wait for anyone to speak and quickly scattered. This mischievous ninth squad, related to the kitchen, is not to be messed with. Since the second platoon is here today and we've heard all about your trouble with them, we've given you this good spot. You can have a good look at each other without being pushed, we're giving it to you willingly.

Jason's group also remained silent, shamelessly sat down without saying a word.

The courtyard was full of people, yet eerily quiet, so quiet that you could hear a pin drop. The midday sun shone down from above, but Robert Wealthy couldn't shake the feeling that something was off, a chilling sensation creeping over him. Goodness gracious, what's going on? What's the situation? Is everyone in the courtyard possessed by ghosts?