Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

Victor in the shadows let out a low laugh, like a stone rubbing against sandpaper: "Ha! Makarov, you want too much."

He moved his body, revealing half of his equally weather-beaten face: "No matter how bad this thing is, it's still a hundred times better than those old-fashioned rifles like the Type 38 that fire one shot with one pull!

Be content with what you have, man."

"Alright, alright." Makarov spread his hands exaggeratedly and gave a standard Russian shrug. The movement was so large that the magazine pouch rattled. "Consider me greedy, alright?"

Turning back, Makarov's heterochromatic eyes refocused on Zhou Zhengqing's face. He dropped his joking tone and became direct and inquiring: "Boss, since this isn't a mission, are you here in person to inspect the work of us 'jailers'?"

After a pause, Makaro looked towards the dark stairs that led deeper into the cave, like the entrance to hell: "Or... are you here to look for someone?

The section chief named Itai Yudai is down there, and there is also... "

Makarov's huge body turned slightly, and his well-defined Slavic face faced Zhou Zhengqing again.

There was a rare hint of indescribable distress between his rugged brows.

Makarov's Adam's apple rolled, and his voice was low, with an awkward tone between reporting and informing: "And your... well, your little maid who is as delicate as a porcelain doll. But, Boss..."

Makarov seemed to be searching for the most accurate words, but finally gave up and shook his head. The corners of his mouth formed an extremely unnatural arc, and the knotted muscles on the sides of his neck seemed stiff: "Excuse me...she...she is a little bit abnormal.

Something is wrong... bordering on... abnormal."

"Pervert?" These two words made Zhou Zhengqing nervous.

The word "pervert" instantly reminded Zhou Zhengqing of Yingzi's carefully kept small suitcase and the things inside...

He did not question Makarov immediately. His eyes passed over Makarov's shoulder and looked at the darkness at the end of the stairs, which was cut by the dim wall lamp and was as deep as the entrance to an ancient tomb. That was the depth of the stairs leading to the second underground floor.

"What are they...doing down there?"

Makarov's reaction this time was more direct. His broad shoulders suddenly shrugged upward with such a large amplitude that it seemed as if he was trying to shake off some sticky discomfort.

His expression became extremely solemn, even with a hint of instinctive rejection, and his eyes avoided Zhou Zhengqing's scrutinizing gaze.

"Boss, I strongly suggest you go down and take a look yourself." His tone was undeniable, yet revealing a deep sense of helplessness: "No words can describe the state of your little maid at this moment... I can't do it."

Sakurako...perverted? A state that cannot be described in words?

Zhou Zhengqing had a strong premonition that Yingzi was definitely there again... Could it be Xiangyue Qingji?

But why is Itai Yudai here too? Is he watching?

Itai Yudai also has a perverted hobby! This shouldn't be the case.

Zhou Zhengqing's brows were completely locked, and the clouds of doubt in his heart instantly expanded into rolling fog.

Makarov's tactical team was produced by the system, and Zhou Zhengqing had 100% trust in it.

No need to hesitate.

"Everyone, stay where you are!" Zhou Zhengqing ordered sternly, his eyes sweeping over the guards following behind him.

Without saying anything more, Zhou Zhengqing let Makarov lead the way and walked straight towards the entrance that swallowed the light.

The stairs spiral downwards, and the concrete walls exude an eerie dampness, as if connecting to another world.

The space on the second underground floor is far more narrow and oppressive than imagined. An area the size of a basketball court is forcibly cut into several independent cell areas by rough and solid concrete walls, more like a miniature maze shrunken in a stone box.

As soon as I stepped down the last step of the stairs and my feet touched the cold concrete floor, the scene in the corridor came into view.

Several other members of Makarov's team were on guard here, like stone statues embedded in the shadows, standing at the corners of the passage or on both sides of the open doorway.

They all held their MP34 submachine guns tightly, with the muzzles slightly pointed downwards but ready to be raised at any time.

What was even more eye-catching were two white youths who were thinner than their companions. They also had long Type 38 rifles slung over their shoulders, and the barrels reflected a cold and hard light in the dim light.

The atmosphere in the entire passage was as solid as iron. Only a few pairs of eyes scanned the area vigilantly in the dim light. A suffocating atmosphere filled the silent air.

Zhou Zhengqing's lips moved slightly, and he was about to turn his head to ask Makarov, who was following closely behind him, about the exact location of Sakurako and Itai Yudai.

Click...

It wasn't the sound of water, it seemed to be...

“…Eeh…Eeh heehee…”

“… Ho ho… Ho…”

An extremely strange laugh, without any warning and without any sense of direction, suddenly poured into Zhou Zhengqing's ear canal!

It was neither pure depression nor complete excitement.

It's more like an uncontrollable, violent spasm of the vocal cords.

The laughter was intermittent, sometimes high and sometimes low, sometimes sharp and piercing like scraping iron sheets, and sometimes muffled in the throat, making a wheezing sound like a broken bellows, filled with an inhuman excitement.

A kind of madness that makes your scalp tingle, a kind of madness that is close to... insanity!

The sound echoed faintly and omnipresently between the gloomy walls, like some invisible and sticky mycelium, winding and spreading from the depths of an open cell in the corridor, instantly immersing the entire passage in an inhuman, decadent, and incomprehensible atmosphere of horror.

Even the air, originally filled with the smell of disinfectant and mildew, now seemed to be tinged with a faint... sweet and fishy odor.

Zhou Zhengqing rolled his throat with difficulty and turned to look at Makarov on the side.

Noticing Zhou Zhengqing's gaze, Makarov immediately showed an expression that said, "Boss, look, that's it." He also pointed to the open cell door deep in the corridor.

Zhou Zhengqing stood there, his feet seemed to have taken root, and his Adam's apple rolled up and down unconsciously.

In the dim light, an unconcealable stiffness passed across his face, and his eyes were wandering.

Makarov instantly caught the subtle unnaturalness, and a hint of understanding flashed across his rough Slavic face.

The corners of his mouth curled up in an arc that was almost comforting, but also carried a professional coldness: "BOSS."

Makarov's deep and rich voice resonated in the narrow and damp passage, carrying a strange soothing power.

"Don't be nervous, it's just... the lighting is a little worse, and there are a few more corners, that's all."

Before he finished speaking, Makarov's broad palm had already been raised at lightning speed - without any delay, a few concise, precise, and iron-like tactical hand gestures instantly pierced the silent air.

Three sets of tactical hand signals exploded in the darkness: the index finger hooked inward (assembly), the thumb slashed across the neck (upgraded alert), and finally the palm pressed down like a guillotine (diamond defensive formation).

His movements were clean and neat, with absolute authority tempered on the battlefield.