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墨書 Inktalez
William was uncertain about the Stealth Team, but he knew that their mission was nearing completion. This was already the third transport of food supplies. Their squad had expanded from two trucks to three, with each person driving their own vehicle.
As usual, they stood at the checkpoint for inspection. The Mercenaries had become quite familiar with the three of them, exchanging a few light-hearted remarks. However, due to the ongoing state of martial law, the inspections remained strict.
William habitually stepped aside to allow space for the checks. "Mr. Anthony, this is the last time, right?"
They had been operating smoothly so far. According to Mr. Anthony's observations, they were close to concluding the food supply pressure faced by the Great Federation, Sherwood District. Rims relaxed a bit, looking at Anthony with hopeful eyes.
Anthony nodded quietly, a clear smile hidden in his gaze. It was unclear whether he was satisfied that their infiltration mission was nearing its end or if he was anticipating what would come next. Naturally, William and Rims, along with the audience following their story, had no idea what Anthony truly thought; they all assumed his smile was due to the impending success of their mission.
Anthony himself was well aware of the situation; he had received concrete information and had already notified his colleagues to prepare for pickup. Seeing Anthony smile without saying anything seemed to give William a satisfactory answer, and he indulged in his own moment of happiness.
He recalled the news from the past couple of days: unexpectedly, both Xina District and Saint Ann District had also declared independence during their two days of transporting food supplies. These neighboring districts to the Great Federation, Sherwood District were influenced by its situation and quickly announced their self-governance. Among them, Xina District, a major grain-producing area, would soon have no opportunity for such covert food transports.
Feeling a pang of concern and a bit fatigued, Rims sighed, "Hey, don't think too much about it; let's hurry up. The Mercenaries have finished their checks."
Once the inspection concluded and the Mercenaries signaled that they could proceed, Anthony distributed a pack of cigarettes as usual before getting back into his truck to restart the engine.
At his assigned truck, he skillfully started it up, released the handbrake, and pressed on the accelerator, listening as the engine roared from a low rumble to a high growl.
William felt an incredible sense of pride; he had only held a small vehicle driver's license before but had mastered truck driving in just two days. He hoped that this time they could finally wrap things up successfully. Just as William voiced his optimism, several armored vehicles approached from the side.
The intercom on the dashboard crackled to life with Anthony's urgent command: "Hurry! The Serpent Man is coming!"
There was no time to back out one by one; they had to charge forward!
William was taken aback. Was it really necessary to be in such a rush? Leaving in a hurry would only raise suspicions, wouldn't it? Their current identities were food smugglers; even the Serpent Man had to eat, right? Surely, there wouldn't be a conflict.
Wait a minute, William suddenly realized that while the Serpent Man didn't know him, he certainly recognized Mr. Anthony!
In just two days, William had grown accustomed to calling him Mr. Anthony and had completely forgotten about his identity as Director Anthony!
Damn it! William cursed under his breath and slammed the accelerator down.
Such a reaction immediately drew laughter from the crowd.
"Haha, look at that guy! Did he just get blessed with a mouth of gold?"
"This reminds me of a war movie I once saw, where the supporting character said he would get married after this battle, only to die in it."
"Doesn't the divine favor the righteous? They were so close to completing their mission with the last food transport, and now they run into the Serpent Man."
The Danmaku had no effect on the people of Script World.
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