Codegease: Air and Land Warfare 1946

Page 154

Because in quiet times, some people can do things quietly, while excessive quiet may be the sudden chill before a storm.

"Okay, Uncle Sam, you're a genius at intelligence, huh?"

Davis and his group of soldiers ran into the young man wearing a black top hat and a black coat in a pile of junk next to a warehouse in a busy downtown area.

"If you didn't become the police performance representative for the entire Tokyo Concession, then you were cheated out of it."

“Just kidding.” Taylor chimed in, looking at a young, unfamiliar white man next to Clark. “Alright, this guy was the one who discovered the situation, right?”

"Hey, I think I saw someone wearing a black knight's uniform here earlier, leading a few people dressed as commoners?"

"Hey, whatever, just arrest him. We won't get much blame anyway." Philip handed the guns slung over his shoulder to his men one by one. "Sir, Garcia should be in position by now, right?"

"Ahem, call, call." Davis poked his head out, looking at the shadowy figure lurking on the warehouse roof. "Paratrooper, what's up with you?"

……

"Those Nazis should really take the time to teach these guys in black how to save their lives."

Garcia has now crawled into the warehouse through the skylight, carefully placing his feet on the large steel frame supporting the roof, gripping the rope in his hand, and looking around.

“Sir, I’ve been looking around for ages, and there’s no one standing guard inside or outside the house. These bastards are still inside speaking Japanese, like they’re competing with elementary school kids to see who can pee the farthest. I bet if you don’t blow your whistle, they’ll never find you.”

Do they have guns?

"The leader, dressed in a black knight's uniform, had a submachine gun slung over his shoulder. The others had just changed into the same clothes, and their weapons were still in a box to the side."

"Then get ready, we're coming in."

Not long after, there was a loud bang as the door was kicked open. Davis rushed in and fired a burst of bullets at the knee of the Black Knights member in charge. The man collapsed to the ground before he could even groan. As for the few young men who looked like they had just joined the order? Their instinct was not to run for their guns but to immediately raise their hands in surrender. Only one of them had just crawled behind a shelf, but he was chased out by Garcia with a gun in hand.

"OK, one, two, three, four, five, six, not one missing."

"Tell me, what's your background?"

"I...we are...don't kill me!" A young man was immediately terrified by the soldiers' gun barrels. "We came to report to Wada-kun today to join the Black Knights. We also brought a lot of weapons with us."

"So your name is Wada, right?" Taylor grabbed the jerk who had been carrying a submachine gun earlier and said, "Tell me, how long have you been with the Black Knights?"

"Uh, no... not long."

"Be honest! If you don't tell the truth, I'll shoot you!"

"No, no, no! I'll talk, I'll talk!" It would be more effective to poke his nose a few times with the gun barrel. "I joined a month before the Black Rebellion last year, then went into hiding for a few months. Now that Lord ZERO is back, I've started following him again..."

"Tch, be honest, alright, I'll give you a break for being an old duck." Looking towards the door, Clark and his henchmen slowly strolled in. "Uncle, is this guy up to par? We'll hand over these greenhorns to the authorities."

……

The next day at noon, the soldiers got their rest time and headed towards a certain place along the sidewalk.

"Alright, it seems the information Clark brought us is incredibly thorough. Lelouch's younger brother, Lolo, was completely unknown within the Black Knights a year ago. There's definitely something fishy going on."

"Anyway, if we bring Lelouch out again, his brother will definitely be even more difficult to deal with. Didn't Clark himself say that he has some kind of strange ability or something?"

"Speaking of which, we helped capture a few idiots from the Black Knights, and they didn't even give us any reward? Is this all the money they offered?"

“Hey God, what can we do? We’re just catching a bunch of chickens with no equipment. What’s the difference between that and catching a few pickpockets?” Philip consoled himself once again. “Besides, we’ve helped catch them all the time. Maybe we’re used to it by now.”

"If it's become commonplace, it just means I've done a lot of good deeds, so I deserve a reward, right?" Taylor rubbed the bills in his hand. "I was thinking of buying that beautiful lady something in a few days."

"Buy what! Buy what! Buy what!" Philip scratched the back of the girl's head repeatedly. "That girl must be blind to fall for a silly idiot like you."

"God! You talk about God all day long, but I haven't seen any girls with you, Amen."

"Alright, stop fooling around. Aren't you two shameless bastards ashamed of being in front of our friends?"

In the restaurant ahead, three people dressed like the soldiers were standing there. The leader was holding up a piece of paper and waving it at him.

"Sergeant Stasevich?"

"'Please be at Nate's Restaurant on Koninger Street by 12:20 noon today. I have something to discuss with you.' That's the message you gave me this morning. I think my translation was up to par?"

"Ha, perhaps it won't be long before you memorize the entire dictionary?" Davis clapped his hands with a smile and gestured for the three Soviet soldiers to enter the mess hall.

……

After sitting down and ordering some food, Davis began to ponder concise words with a serious expression.

"Sergeant, I want to tell you something."

"Speaking?"

"Do you remember the Black Knights? Did they tell you anything about them?"

“We remember it very well.” Stasevich twitched her tongue. “About these, uh… you bad things, you must have something you want to do, I think so?”

“We have recently confirmed that a very important person in the Black Knights has gained our trust.”

"Oh? They trust people like us who work for Britannia? I find that... kind of exciting."

"I don't know if you remember, but a few days after we came into this world, they were talking about how one of us American soldiers was killed in that fire, huh?" He chuckled. "It was all a charade. He's living a good life in a residential area now."

After he finished speaking, Davis's expression immediately froze, as if he realized something—the three Russians across the table looked exactly the same. As for the soldiers sitting on either side of the sergeant, looking at their superiors and then at the faces that seemed to have emerged from the Siberian soil, the dining table suddenly fell into an awkward situation.

"Ahem, comrade," Stasevich finally managed to utter, "Could you please get a pen and paper and rewrite what you just said..."

"Oh, no problem, no problem." After finishing a few quick strokes, Ivanov looked up and straightened up a British-Russian dictionary from his satchel, handing it to the sergeant and helping him flip through a few pages.

“Hmmmm, that’s pretty unusual,” Philip chuckled. “We Americans have never really seen anyone carrying a brick around on the street every day.”

"Hmm? Back in our hometown... we wouldn't see... that thing on your neck either," the young man retorted politely, using a paused word as a sarcastic remark.

Yes, we're all the same. We were born in the same world, separated by the Atlantic Ocean and the vast distances of Europe, yet today we've managed to exchange our first words in such an interesting way.

“I understand, Sergeant Davis.” Stasevich put down the dictionary with satisfaction. “I won’t dwell on how your friends did it for now. You should focus more on how to work with us, right?”

“We may have more and more contact with the core members of that Black Knights in the future, so sometimes we will need you to provide us with some cover.” Davis continued to write down what he wanted to say next, “Our current submission to Britannia is presumably aimed at ultimately overthrowing them, or at least overthrowing their goal of invading our world and our land. So, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, isn’t that true?”

"Haha, I totally agree, comrade!" After reading the message, Stasevich reached out and hugged Davis. "You guys are really great. With this, we're all comrades now!"

"Ah, comrade? Well then, I hope we can have a pleasant cooperation?"

"Come on, I feel it would be a shame not to have a bottle of vodka in this situation." He laughed and said a few words to the waiter.

"Do you know what? A few more comrades have joined my cause." Turning back, he continued excitedly describing to them, "With our team gradually growing stronger, victory must be just around the corner."

“That’s great.” Davis leaned closer and winked. “Well, I know how much you Russians love to drink and how much you love to toast others.”

"Hahaha! Come on, comrade! From now on, our friendship is unbreakable, and we will surely be victorious!"

The two poured themselves vodka, stood up, and clinked glasses in each other's eyes, filled with trust and hope for the future.

"Chi...cheer!"

"Cheer!"

Chapter 177, Section 247: The Hot Potato of the 10,000-Character Novel

"Cyka Blyat, are we going to do something else tonight?"

Inside the Tokyo Concession Armed Security Corps building, Stasevich emerged from a room with several other comrades, holding a pamphlet that an officer had just given them.

"It's still a convoy escorting military supplies, right?" Chicherin wiped his nose. "It's good that they're not at the back of the convoy. The speed at which these people drive is infuriating. I really want to floor the gas and... you know... on them all."

"Ha, we'll see how the officer in charge decides to arrange things. By the way, you newcomers," Stasevich said, looking at the few young comrades behind him who had recently changed into the same uniforms as them, "your English learning progress is pretty good, isn't it? It's quite unexpected that I'm taking you all on this escort mission."

"Will it have any impact, comrade?"

"Well, as expected, you probably won't understand when others make sarcastic remarks to you, but that's fine too."

"Ah, to quote His Excellency Androv, carrying loads on a construction site is hardship, but doing this with you is humiliating, whether it's our motherland or our enemy."

"I'm too lazy to explain the principle of 'nothing ventured, nothing gained' to that comrade. Oh well, at least every comrade is still loyal to our motherland."

“Another comrade,” Ivanov leaned closer and whispered, “I suddenly remembered something.”

"what?"

“I vaguely saw what we escorted last time today.”

"Say it directly."

"A bunch of very large caliber shells, even larger than the shells from our largest howitzer... That's outrageous..."

“It’s even bigger than the ‘Comrade Stalin’s Hammer’…” Stasevich’s heart tightened. “Damn, those puppets’ weapons are nothing compared to Britannia’s. But they have such large cannons, and they don’t seem to be naval weapons. We haven’t heard them say that there are any large-scale convoys of warships heading to our side recently.”

“On land, such a heavy cannon.” Chicherin grinned. “Our comrades who are still fighting are going to suffer.”

"My God, could it be exactly the same thing the Nazis used when they besieged Sevastopol three years ago...?"

"That thing shouldn't cause us too much trouble, it's quite easy for the Air Force to find it."

"But I believe that Comrade Stalin and Marshal Zhukov would never want the Soviet Union's enemies to have such a big thing recklessly bombarding our red flag, right? It would be best to destroy it if there was an opportunity. Although I heard from more captured comrades that the American troops in Europe have reached a consensus with us, we may not even know where this thing is hidden."

"Tampering with these big-tube shells? That's a bit tricky. I'm afraid I'll have to ask my American friends who're just loafing around here with me. They have some good conditions, right? Let's ask them if they have any ideas."

"That's all there is to it. We don't have the means to go back to our world and cause destruction ourselves; it's unrealistic."

……

Then, as they passed the entrance to the commander-in-chief's office, they saw several Germans with strange expressions, dressed in the same clothes as them, rushing over angrily from the stairs.

"Hmm?" Stasevich had heard all about these fascist thugs; he was the kind of person who'd love to paint a swastika on their faces. So, what should they do when they're charging this way?

He led the way and stopped. Chicherin and Ivanov immediately understood and, together with their new comrades, formed a human wall in the corridor, causing the Nazis to stop in surprise and freeze in front of them.

"Haha?" A contemptuous sneer rang out. Karlsstadt, the leader, dared not speak out in anger—they knew in their hearts who stood before them. Their swastikas had long been collected and sent to Moscow like rags. They had been hiding and running away, all to avoid them, these Soviet soldiers who, even unarmed, could see the muzzle of a PPSh-41 gun or the barrel of a T-34 tank in their eyes.

He's not yet on equal footing; there are still the "German elites" following behind who are pushing these Slavs back. Besides, where is this place?

Well, startled, Stasevich raised his hand with ill intent and easily but forcefully patted Karlstadt on the shoulder, clearing a path for them.

Schreiber was among the Germans when he saw Chicherin give him the bread with a look of disgust, and he glared back. He almost couldn't resist clenching his fist into a wooden-handled grenade and smashing it into the Russian's face.

After they passed by, Stasevich didn't even turn his head. He heard the footsteps of the fascists, followed by the sound of a door opening.

"Hey? What do they want with that pretty boy Caronville?"

……

Then, looking into the office, the German soldiers stood in formation, their faces full of arrogance as the lieutenant colonel, accompanied by an officer, slowly approached them.

“I want you to understand why I summoned you here. Mr. Karlsstadt, do you know?”

"I think we did something truly praiseworthy."

"Praise? What a compliment! I don't even know how many severe punishments I'd have to give you for praising me like that!"

“Excuse my bluntness, sir.” Gunther, who was walking alongside, chuckled. “Ha, if you think what we’ve done today is a bit cruel?”

"Alright, since you think what happened before is insignificant, I'll read it to you, okay?"

Caronville picked up the report he had been carrying behind his back.

"Heinhard Karlstadt, Ernst Günther, Heimler Henrik, and Wolfgang Schreiber, former Nazi German soldiers from District 45G, took actions that provoked the ire of neighboring units while searching for possible members of the Black Knights around Yokohama. They dissected and hung the bodies of a large number of people from District 11 who had been arbitrarily executed on the piers of a nearby overpass."

"You'd better understand that your so-called 'hobbies' are utterly ruthless and chaotic." The officer next to him translated for the lieutenant colonel and then joined in the criticism. "We're here to sweep out the traitors. We're going to arrest these guys in unison and use them as suitable propaganda material for the future, not like you say, feeling angry and then hanging them all over this overpass covered in blood!"

"Oh my god, Lieutenant Colonel, they went too far. I still can't bear to look at this photo..."

Yes, one end of the rope was nailed to the bridge pier, and the other end hung with the corpse of an American from Area 11—slashed by knives, shot by guns, stepped on by shoes, and smashed by gun butts. It was no longer a human body; it was like a bunch of bloody grapes, several bunches crammed together and hanging there. And this viaduct? It was just a cold, lifeless grapevine. As for who the farmer who grew the grapes was?

"I don't know what Nazi Germany was like before, but don't bring your gangster mentality here. Remember this: this is our territory, and we call the shots!"

Seeing the young man's somewhat angry yet helpless expression, Karlstadt seemed to feel a sense of triumph.

“Sir, I understand what you mean, haha. However, I remember that your country has always had a hard time dealing with these slaves, well, those who can only be given a number. Since they are now causing trouble everywhere, this method doesn’t seem ruthless enough, does it? Based on our experience over the past few years.”

"Your experience? Your experience is to throw a bunch of heads that we can keep as enough labor into a meat grinder without saying a word?" The lieutenant colonel was even angrier. "This time you shredded people like grapes, what about next time? Are you going to open a human flesh processing plant? And then grind the bones and muscles into powder and mix them with laundry detergent?"

“Inferior races are inferior races, destined only to be wiped out.” Schreiber also scoffed. “I suppose Your Majesty’s Britannian Empire doesn’t want to be made a mess by these swarming worms hiding in ruins.”

"You..." The lieutenant colonel was speechless. He threw the documents on the ground and turned away to calm himself down.

"You all, go back and reflect on your actions. I'll have someone watching you... Get out!"

……

Not long after the officer next to him saw the group of German soldiers off, Caronville lay on a chair, closed his eyes, and desperately tried to forget the bloody scene in the photograph.

"That's too much...that's just too much..."

Just then, someone knocked on the door, and he let the person in.