Long-term salvation

Alona's voice rang in Rhodes' ears. She was now looking outside through the all-seeing eye mask he was wearing. This girl could also control those technological creations by directly touching the [Shiting Box], but it was limited to "manipulation", that is, the extent to which she could make the plane take off and land. Forget about fighting.

"Hehehe, especially when no one else has come," Alona's voice was filled with a little joy, and Rhodes could easily imagine her cute smile in the [Box of Shiting].

"We can't help it. Not only do they all have things to do, but coming here would also consume Abigail's stored energy. Any energy saved is better. Besides, we'll need backup after we successfully capture the warship. It won't be too late to use it then... Maybe the system can be recharged once more."

As Rhodes spoke, he cast his eyes towards the post office at the corner of the street. It had reopened, the dust on the sign at the door had been diligently swept away, and even the slightly deformed mailbox had been painted a bright red.

The person they were looking for was in this post office. He used to be a pilot, then became a rifleman, and finally disappeared... But in the end, he was found by Rhodes.

After putting the girl down from his shoulders, Rhodes straightened his clothes and pushed open the door of the post office.

Middle-aged Larry Foulke put down the rag in his hand and looked up in the direction of the gate. He had fought for this city for several years and was a respected soldier and uncle next door, even if no one knew where he came from.

In Larry's mind, this might be his burial place, living peacefully in the war-torn zone where peace has returned, until the war breaks out again, and he will pick up the gun together with those who are committed to resistance... and finally die in some insignificant battle.

But now, it seemed as if the past had come knocking on the door—a young man wearing a strange eye patch walked into the post office, looked around, and then set his eyes on himself.

"Pixy."

He said.

"Solo Wing."

What a nostalgic name.

"I don't know the person you're talking about," Larry said, shaking the rag and throwing it into the basin beside him. "I'm the only employee in this small post office. If you want to ask for directions, I can show you the way."

"Okay, then show me a way where I can't see the border."

"..."

The corner of Larry's eye twitched slightly. He took a deep breath and decided to bend down and take out the rifle hidden under the counter. No matter what the other party was here for, he had to beat this young man out first!

"Mr. Pixy, before you blow my head off with a gun, could you please listen to my proposal?"

Rod said this, placing his hands on the counter and letting his eyes meet. Abigail was closing the door next to him, and Black Cat was squatting at her feet, staring straight at Larry.

Larry thought that he couldn't let the children see this disrespectful (violent) scene.

After staring at each other for more than ten seconds, Larry sighed deeply and said unhappily:

"If you have something to say, say it now, or I'll kick you out! Even in front of this young lady!"

“…Mercenaries.”

"what?"

"I have plans to form a mercenary group. I will call it 'The Army Without Borders'."

Rod ignored Larry's gloomy, dazed, and somewhat nostalgic expression and said to himself:

"No matter your country or origin, regardless of skin color or gender, everyone can join the Free Army. We must use absolute force to maintain peace and political mediation to stop wars. We can become mercenaries seeking power, warriors with insightful insights, knights seeking glory... or even the saviors of peace."

"I need your help, Mr. Pixy. A new war is coming, and we need to accumulate strength."

"...I'm not participating," Larry said slowly, a sad smile playing on his lips. "I'm already old. Look at me, I'm over fifty." (Note: Pixy was born on Planet S in 1967)

"That's not a problem. After all, an old man much older than you can still fly a fighter jet and beat up a bunch of elite soldiers."

"I'm sorry, I still can't," Larry murmured, "I'm already..."

"Well, how about this," Rhode said, his smile subdued. He spread his hands, "I have a favor to ask of you. Go to another world and save the innocent people who are about to be swallowed by darkness. You will have to face unprecedented supernatural enemies and those equally arrogant and powerful nations. In return, you will be restored to your youth and return to your peak. How about it?"

"...What kind of third-rate novel plot are you imagining?"

"I knew you would say something like that."

Rhode rolled his eyes, raised his hand and snapped his fingers. A longsword burning with golden flames immediately appeared between Rhode and Larry. The flames from the blade splashed onto Larry's beard, causing his eyes to suddenly widen.

"Fire?! Where did the fire come from?! Ouch, my beard!"

But soon, a basin of clean water was handed to Larry, who was rummaging around for the basin. The latter felt like burying his whole face in it, but the flame seemed not to be extinguished by the water... It went out, or rather, it returned to the hands of its owner.

Larry raised his face a little embarrassedly, and a towel was handed to him.

"Oh, thank you, sweet little... huh?!"

Looking at the towel handed to him by the tentacles, the basin held up by the tentacles, and Rhodes who was condensing an F15C fighter jet in mid-air with his flaming sword—

"..."

The former winged fairy exhaled slowly, then returned the towel to Abigail in a friendly manner. Then, he walked back behind the counter in a daze, folding his hands under his nose. After nearly ten minutes of contemplation, Larry raised his head and asked:

"Now, we have several people in our mercenary group."

"That's all you see."

"...Don't tell me that the mercenary group now only has you, this young lady and me, a total of three people."

"Of course not," Rhodes said as a matter of course, "and our Pickman!"

Pickman?

Larry slowly stood up and looked at the black cat squatting at the door. The cute cat squinted its eyes, as if smiling:

"Meow."

Larry: “…Can I quit now?”

Chapter 274: Military Mercenaries Without Borders (3K)

Outside the gray-blue canopy, the vast ocean shimmers in the midday sun.

"Galaxy, Hitman-1 calling in. Hitman Squad is entering combat zone, under observation by multiple ground radars. Bullseye direction. Transition to combat formation... Galaxy (Galaxy, translated in-game as 'Gallosi'), Hitman-1 requesting air situation information."

"Killer-1, Galaxy. No targets in the air. Killer, initiate attack."

"Killer Wilco, Killer Team, launch the AGM-88 at the radar signal source at the bullseye position."

The high-speed anti-radiation missiles under the wings of three F16C fighter jets detached from the racks. The missiles, traveling at a speed of 2280 kilometers per hour, instantly disappeared from the pilots' field of vision. Even the sharp whistling sound that squeezed the air dissipated in the vast airspace. Only a few faint black dots remained, which disappeared in a flash and brought down the fire of destruction a dozen seconds later.

"Killer-1, target destroyed."

"Killer-2, target destroyed."

"Killer-3, target destroyed."

"Killer team, Galaxy. Initiate free attack. Repeat, free attack. Destroy the marked target."

"Killer understands."

The three fighter jets then tilted their fuselages, allowing them to enter the ground attack route from a pre-determined direction.

The outline of the island is gradually getting bigger. The fast attack boats anchored in the small harbor are slowly starting up and heading out. The boats are full of traces of modification - heavy machine guns, grenade launchers and other heavy firepower compared to infantry are welded on them. One of the larger ones even has a small naval gun - this is a pirate den. They exist in the complex archipelago and national borders, making it inconvenient for countries with tense relations on both sides to send regular troops to deal with it.

Because of this, now is the time for the mercenaries to appear.

"Target number one destroyed."

Killer-1 Robin Kuo glanced sideways at the destroyed helicopter below. After confirming the effectiveness of the attack, she exhaled slowly and deflected the joystick to make the fighter plane draw a nearly perfect arc in the air, dodging the fire of what looked like a ZSU-23-4 self-propelled anti-aircraft gun. The latter was then destroyed by the machine gun of another F16C attacking from behind.

"Huh...this mission is also very simple."

The voice of Killer-2 came from the communication channel. His name was "Peter Kennedy". He came from a privileged family. His love for flying made him give up everything, and he was also deeply attracted by the slogan.

Now, Killer-2 maneuvered the fighter and lowered its nose slightly so that the gun aiming ring and the crosshairs within it moved across the bottom of the heads-up display. When the gun was pointed at the correct target, aiming and killing occurred in a split second—the M61A2 Vulcan cannon immediately opened fire, and the 20mm armor-piercing incendiary (API) rounds penetrated the light armor of the fast attack boat without hindrance.

The machine gun smashed the flesh and blood inside into pulp, causing it to be engulfed by the burning flames. It was soon buried on the seabed along with the boat, becoming part of the marine ecosystem.

"The money isn't much either," Killer-2 said in a slightly frivolous voice, pulling up the fuselage. "I suspect the money from this mission is only enough to cover the boss's settlement costs."

Three F16C fighter jets were attacking the pirate forces hiding on the island from different directions. Machine guns and bombs were the most favored methods of attack. Orange-red flames burst out from the black fog produced by the explosion, carrying vehicle wreckage and human limbs and flying around. Those metal fragments became the most deadly weapons after the bombs themselves.

If you look down from the sky, you can see humans wriggling on the ground like maggots. They will try to fight back, but it is pointless.

"As long as we get our money," Agent-3, Evelyn London III, replied over the comms channel. Her voice was hoarse and slightly breathy from the G-forces. "And Number One needs money too, right? I remember you often send money back home."

"I have to support my family."

"Oh ladies, stop talking about these boring things. Who do you think the boss is?"

"Want to talk about how he was kept by a little blonde girl? Which kingdom is that girl from? The Kingdom of Ergia? I remember their princess had blonde hair."

"He also has a cute, quirky cat," Killer-1 thought for a moment and said, "And the boss actually brought that cat into the fighter plane—is that really okay?"

"It was raised by that little lady who calls herself a 'witch'. She didn't say anything."

"Ahem, Killer Squad, Galaxy. Watch your attitude on the communication channel. The boss may access the channel at any time."

The AWACS (Airborne Warning and Control System) in the rear spoke over the communication channel. His name was "Dominic Zaitsev." He was once a radio engineer who had opened a radio station but it was banned. He was eventually recruited into the Army Without Borders mercenary group. Because of this, he had little experience in air control and command, but he was talented and had the help of another deputy commander:

Arnold Frenken, codenamed Caesar.

Now, Caesar's voice also appeared in the communication channel. His voice was more stable than Galaxy's, with a passion and persistence rarely seen in the mercenary group:

"While the boss won't mind others making up stories about him behind his back, I certainly won't mind using some people's gossip to increase my bonus."

"OK, I'll shut up... But then again, aren't the recruitment standards for our mercenary group a bit too high? Pilots also need a certificate to fly carrier-based aircraft, and after joining the group, they have to continue to undergo intensive flight training."

"In response to that, I can only respond to you about the boss's words back then: 'Holy shit, you guys really have one?!'" Caesar said calmly, but there was also a hint of laughter in his words. "He really did say that, and he was even forced by Mr. Larry, the flight instructor in the mercenary group, to learn how to take off and land on an aircraft carrier, even though we don't have one right now."

A burst of lighthearted laughter suddenly rang out in the communication channel.

In just a few hours, the three F16C fighter jets completed the strike mission and prepared to return - the building on the small island marked as a "pirate den" had been completely destroyed, leaving only wisps of smoke rising.

"Ahem... Galaxy, Killer-1 calling, the assassination team has completed its strike mission and is withdrawing eastward," Killer-1 reported, forcing herself to suppress her smile. After she finished speaking, she added with a hint of complaint, "Do we really have to say this? It's so troublesome. We're not a regular army."

"Killer-1, Galaxy. Unfortunately, this is the boss's request. He wants us to fight like knights."

"That's not what a knight would say."

"Modern Knights are like this... Wait, right behind you, the radar shows eight enemy aircraft signals, one group on each side." Galaxy's voice was shrouded in static, filled with anxiety. "Confirmed to be four JAS 39s and four Saab 37s. They're coming through the fjord and the islands at high speed and are rapidly approaching—they're starting to climb!"

"What?! Fighting pirates can attract the enemy's regular army?!"

"Then this isn't some pirate, but a separatist force backed by the enemy! Or maybe it's simply an outpost of the enemy's regular army—damn it, I'm going to drop a 2000-pound bomb on the lair of the mission-giver!" Killer-2 sputtered. He gripped the joystick tightly, listening to the creaking sound of the fuselage pushing through the sticky air. "Fuck! I'm running out of fuel!"

"Don't fight. I repeat, don't fight. Escape immediately. Reinforcements are coming soon."

"Reinforcements? None of the Gunsel squadrons are deployed here! Even if they were, they wouldn't have time to take off and arrive... Fvck! Fvck! Fvck!"

"Killer team, stop complaining and get out of this fight! They're about to catch up!"

"Working on it!" / "The AWACS guidance is too slow!" / "I know—"

"calm."

An abrupt voice appeared on the communication channel, causing the initial static to return. The crackling sound was annoying - but the man's voice quickly and forcefully pushed it aside, piercing the hearts of everyone on the channel like a sharp sword along the radio waves, commanding their hearts to calm down:

"The assassin team continues to disengage, and I will handle the enemy."

"...Boss, the enemy has eight fighter planes!"

"That's perfect. I have eight air-to-air missiles."

Such arrogant words... It's like the Lord of Hosts is issuing an order!

"Monarch enters combat zone, engaging the enemy."

after a while.

When the three members of the killer team stood in front of the hangar door, watching the F15C fighter with the "Witch Cat" printed on the tail slowly taxiing to the parking position, they looked at the attachment points under the wings with awe - eight air-to-air missiles, just corresponding to eight enemies - even the machine gun was useless!

"Another victory, isn't it?"

Caesar appeared behind the three of them without knowing when, but they did not turn around. Instead, they said blankly:

"Rod and Boss's driving skills are improving too quickly."

"Maybe it's because he has a good teacher... Anyway, we'll be leaving here soon, heading north, to the continent of Eusia, where a war is brewing."

"there's only us?"

"No, the entire Army Without Borders mercenary group, including fighter jets, early warning aircraft, transport planes, and other ground forces, must go there."

"I wish the price was higher," Killer-2 sighed. "I've already been asked to pay off debts with goods here!"

"Maybe... it's not about the money."

Caesar looked at the man who was getting off the F15C fighter and whispered:

"It's about 'armed peace.'"

Note: Hitm-an, the "m" and "a" in it are actually sensitive words.