Codegease: Air and Land Warfare 1946

Page 119

The loud shout actually startled it! The brown bear seemed genuinely frightened and took a step back, bumping its rear end against the car behind it. Then, its two front paws left the ground, and it sat upright on the ground.

"Damn it! This rhythm is off!"

"Is it possible that this bear and the Russian became sworn brothers under the supervision of Jesus?"

The three American soldiers stared in disbelief, and Chizuko, standing beside them, was speechless. She was amazed to see a bear so afraid of people for the first time. It was worth it!

At this point, the brown bear also became curious about Chicherin, and slowly approached him by circling around him again. Seeing this, Chicherin also lowered his waist, put his hands on his knees, and stared at his friend like a sumo wrestler.

For Russians, the details of a bear are as obvious as what's in the kitchen. Slowly, when the bear was led to a small truck, Chicherin stopped, and the bear stopped as well, but its head slowly lowered.

He understood the signal perfectly, but his comrades understood even better that the big guy had fallen for their trap. As they spoke, Stasevich emerged from behind the small truck, turned his back to the bear, and slowly approached it.

"Hurrah!—"

He roared, suddenly jumped off the truck, pulled out a brick, and smashed it directly at the back of the brown bear's head!

……

"Hey! Make way for the vets!"

Davis and his team waited for professionals to arrive and rescue them. Just as the tranquilizer gun was pointed at the scene, everyone was stunned by the lively scene.

The brown bear, somehow manipulated, lay on its back, twisting and howling while flailing its claws. And what about Stasevich and Chicherin? Despite being extremely careful with the bear's paws, the two Russians each grabbed a brick from somewhere and began pounding it into the bear's shoulder joints, nose, and ears. Upon closer inspection, a new rope was found around the bear's neck, the other end tautly tied to the door handle of a truck bed.

"Are you kidding me?" The veterinarian was terrified; he had never seen anyone beat an adult bear to a pulp. "Is this a bear? This looks like someone's put an inflatable bear mascot inside!"

"Stop dawdling, bro! Hurry up and get your anesthetic gear ready, okay?!" Davis panicked, and immediately called out to the two Russians, "Hey! Bro! Get out of the way!"

The two Russians looked like they hadn't had enough, and since they didn't quite understand the soldier's English, they whispered to each other for a moment before leaving.

……

After a flurry of activity, the anesthetic finally took effect on the brown bear, which is now fast asleep on the main road. The staff around it are busy loading it onto a truck—it's unclear whether it's going to the hospital for a check-up or embarking on a new relocation journey.

"That's fantastic!" Davies and his group came over as Stasevich and Chicherin were still watching the bear being loaded onto the truck.

"Well done!" The soldier knew that if he explained it in a complicated way, the two of them wouldn't understand, so he just said it concisely and then shook hands with them.

"Um, um..." The two Russians wanted to say something too, but after struggling for a long time, they scratched their heads and fumbled a string of Russian words, finally ending with "my friends"—the only word they could think of that had a friendly connotation.

"Oh?" While Davis was still in a daze, the veterinarian who had been holding the tranquilizer gun came over.

"Want to know what they were saying?"

"What?"

"Hmm, what they said..." The veterinarian also pursed his lips and uttered these words that even he himself could hardly believe.

"They said, 'If we had downed a bottle of vodka before this, we could probably wrestle with this bear...'"

Chapter 124, Section 186: The Man Who Was Used

A startling, heavy crash echoed through the quiet streets of the Tokyo Concession at night.

A small truck, whose origins are unknown, crashed head-on into a flower bed on the sidewalk for some unknown reason, with sparks constantly shooting out from the engine hood.

And what about the two people driving? He was dragged out of the airbag and seatbelt by someone, given a few rough questions, and then kicked away, fleeing in a sorry state—even the person in the passenger seat was so frightened that he pulled out his gun.

As for the contents of the truck? Several cases of wine were emptied and found in the hands of a group of people carrying them—the hands of a group of people who had turned into shadows and disappeared from the truck's sight.

"Don't panic, guys. Breaking a bottle is worse than eating flies."

That's right, Clark and his men just violently seized all this stuff and are now busy getting it to a safe place.

"So...Uncle Sam? You killed our leader and brought us in here just to steal our liquor?"

Who is this person referring to Clark's self-proclaimed nickname? That's right, it's that skilled thief; he deserves credit for this robbery.

“Son,” Clark answered slowly, “you mentioned to me before that there are two big gangs fighting each other in the Tokyo Concession, right? And one of the leaders isn’t used to looking closely at strangers?”

"Yeah, right? So this time you're not even going to kill anyone, or even steal heroin, but instead you're stealing this pile of wine, which is last year's worthless stuff. What, are you trying to teach us to back down?"

"Are you sure that if we cut off their drug supply directly, they won't rush to wipe us out, buddy? Of course we need to maintain good relations with those gangs, whether it's to show hostility or friendship, we have to send them this signal."

"You've ruined someone's path to their bar and you're still trying to be nice to them?"

“Ha, would you kill someone just because they drank a tiny sip of water from your big jug? Well, unless they have bad breath.” Clark patted him on the shoulder. “To get people’s attention, you can’t be too loud or too quiet, especially with the cold-eyed people you’ve been emphasizing.”

"Alright guys, let's leave the wine over there. That's enough for tonight, everyone get some rest."

Just as everyone was leaving, Clark called out to a bespectacled Asian man.

"Hey! Yamashita! Come here!"

"Oh? What is it, sir?"

He only spoke after everyone had gone far away.

"You said before that you could use that thing called a computer, right?"

"Um... Ah, yes, but my old computer was completely destroyed before you came to our gang."

"Oh, it's nothing. So, I have something to ask you."

At that moment, Clark took out a bag and pulled out a laptop, which looked quite new.

"Huh? Sir? Could it be..."

"Don't get excited, kid. This time, I'm the one asking you for advice."

……

It was past midnight when Clark and Yamashita sat in front of their laptops on the table and began to talk cautiously.

"Come on, sir, hold the mouse properly and click the left button."

"Okay, okay, oh..." Clark was sweating from exhaustion. "This thing called a mouse is more interesting than a train."

"Ah... sir, what I actually find more interesting is..." Yamashita stuck out his tongue, a little hesitant to speak, "...that he's been an adult for several years, yet he doesn't know how to use a computer. It's really quite amusing, hahaha..."

"My dad has a weird habit. He forbade me from touching a computer since I was little for various reasons, and I rarely had the chance to touch it...blah blah blah..." Clark started making up all sorts of things to dispel the doubt that he came from a more technologically backward world. It was barely acceptable.

"Haha, your father is really adorable." Yamashita adjusted his glasses. "So, did you come to me because you're embarrassed to make your computer studies public?"

“Yes, kid. After all, I believe you don’t like to gossip and chatter around. I know whether you can keep this a secret or not, right?” Clark paused. “However, it’s not that simple.”

"Ok?"

Clark glanced warily back at the closed door, and only after a moment of silence confirmed they weren't being overheard did he continue his conversation.

"Japanese, or rather, people from Area 11?"

The man below the mountain immediately widened his pupils; clearly, Clark's figure had become more dangerous in his eyes.

"Can you tell me about the war when Britannia invaded Japan a few years ago? What were you doing at that time?"

"Sir... in this deal, do I think I've offered too much?"

Seeing that the mountainside suddenly adopted a xenophobic attitude, Clark didn't know what to say.

"Well then, let's call it a day. I just thought someone else would be more fortunate than me."

"Wait, wait a minute!" Just as he turned to leave, Yamashita called out to him.

"So, sir, I would like to ask you a question—what do you think war is?"

“War? It’s like a pile of shit in your stomach.” Clark slowly sat back down. “You always want to poop it out when you’re desperate, to make your stomach clean and empty, but it will always be born again after you eat food, and then you have to go to the toilet again. It goes on and on. You want to get rid of it, but you can’t leave it. You either poop until you die or you hold it in until you die. It’s disgusting.”

Seeing the faces below the mountain gradually calm down, Clark then reached out his hand.

"Sit down, kid. Anyway, I think I've crawled through more bomb craters and bunkers than you've been to a toilet."

……

The two had been giving each other the cold shoulder for a long time before Yamashita finally spoke.

“I… a few years ago when Britannia invaded Japan, I was studying at university in Osaka. Then I got separated from my parents during the war, and all my relatives, either I couldn’t contact them, or those I could contact…”

"Also what?"

"Some were executed by Britannia not long after, while others became honorary Britannians, giving up the title of Japanese, or rather, Area 11 people."

"so now?"

"After everyone around me was forced to give up the name of the Yamato people, I had no choice but to go through the procedures to become a second-class citizen in order to have a better life in the future. It has been more than a year now."

Clark didn't answer him immediately, but remained silent for a while.

"I understand how painful it is to lose family members and companions who have become like zombies."

"Oh? Sir, you also had family members who died in the war? Were you involved?"

“No, my family didn’t go to the battlefield, and I have no brothers or sisters, but the people who fought alongside me with guns were like brothers. Every death was a tragedy, and when they could only end up piled together in the grave, I became less sensitive to the numbers. That’s it.” Clark dodged a question.

"Uh... which war was this brutal... I didn't know..."

"Alright! Now is not the time to continue defecating in the toilet!" Clark changed the subject. "Then, tell me about the details of your life after Japan was conquered."

"I knew how to edit computer programs at school, but Britannia doesn't need many people in that kind of tech industry. My life has always been... well, I won't go into details. Anyway, until a few years ago when I joined the Tokyo Deadheads gang, a lot of their operational plans were based on information I gathered online. But life wasn't exactly smooth sailing. They were always making sarcastic remarks about me being from Area 11, which is why I applied for second-class citizenship..."

"That bad? Is this what happens if you're not even a second-class citizen?"

"You probably haven't been to Area 11 before. Actually, the other numbered people are alright, but we are the most helpless. In their words, we control the most Sakura Stone resources in the world, and with the actions of those politicians, we have become the target of the whole world. Not to mention Britannia, it is said that even the EU and the Chinese Federation do not necessarily respect us. Sometimes we are even treated as second-class citizens, and we are treated worse than other numbered people who have not been classified as second-class citizens."

Yamashita sighed and looked out the window—beyond the glamorous Tokyo concession lay the dilapidated old city of Tokyo, completely devoid of lights and repairs, where thousands of people in the same or even worse situation as him lived.

"Then, answer me seriously, Yamashita." Clark saw an opportunity. "If you were given a chance to overthrow Britannia's existence and restore peace to your homeland, would you strive to do it?"

"Huh?" Yamashita was extremely surprised. "Your Excellency, could it be..."

"Hey, calm down! I never said I wasn't Britannian."

"Sir, please stop joking. The Black Rebellion from a few months ago has vanished into thin air. The Black Knights and ZERO have long since disappeared without a trace, and their followers are already in prison or the morgue. Don't you know any of this? Do you expect me to go and smash up the Tokyo Concession City Hall with a stick?"

“Remember this: whether it’s gangsters or war, not everything can be solved by direct combat.” Clark’s eyes were full of confidence. “If you want your country to be restored, you need to improve yourself before you officially get involved. If you work hard, everything will come.”

"I don't want to hear any motivational platitudes, sir. I just want to know, can you predict what will happen in the future?"

"Later? Haha..."

"A few years ago, someone said I would become a gang leader in the future, and I didn't believe it. But I dare say that if I had no background, the opportunity I had a few weeks ago might have just been to put you all in jail and then continue to be a policeman, haha."

Clark lit a cigarette and slowly exhaled white smoke.

Chapter 125, Section 187: Griffin's Accident

"Oh? Does that mean they're just stuck like turtles in a hole?"

"Perhaps, after all, there's no better way."

In Britannia, a suburb of Berlin, three girls were quietly chatting in a room of a small building that could also be used as a hospital ward.

That's right, Angeli with blonde hair, Ypel with black hair, and Lilizia with white hair, they seem to have hidden here to talk for the sake of quiet.

"Speaking of which, Lieutenant Griffin can now get out of bed on his own with crutches," Angelie thought, leaning against the door. "Perhaps it's only a short time before we fight side by side again."

"Yes! I'm so happy!" Ypel smiled broadly. "The most enjoyable thing is when everyone can chat and live together in good health."

"Won't the lieutenant's rest over the past few days cause a lag in our adaptation?" Lilizia noticed a crucial point. "When the attack formation is activated, the most likely culprit won't be the three of us, but our leader. I can't possibly be left to rescue the lieutenant alone again..."

“That’s something I’m also concerned about. The doctor said the lieutenant hasn’t fully recovered from the memory of that one-armed shovel-wielding soldier he’s been talking about.” Angelina shook her head, then suddenly lowered her voice, “Maybe he needs me to be with him to sleep peacefully…”

"ah?!--"

"Oh, it's nothing, it's nothing..." Angelie's face immediately flushed red amidst the other two's surprise. "It's just that, Lieutenant Griffin, well, I, he..."

……

Just then, the three of them suddenly heard a horrifying scream coming from outside the door.

"What's wrong?!" Angelie quickly turned around and opened the door.

"Huh? Lieutenant Griffin?"

The three men were stunned—the lieutenant lay flat on his back on the ground, his cane tossed aside, one hand covering his left eye, grinning, shaking his head, and groaning as if he had been fattened up.

……

Not long after, the lieutenant was moved back to his hospital bed, where three girls and a doctor accompanied him and asked him questions.