It's All a Misunderstanding

"Harnack, Amy, take this guy to the Military Police Department." Augustus waved his hand, and the soldier behind him, gripping a Gauss Rifle, immediately stepped forward.

It wasn't that Augustus didn't recognize the infamous "tough guy" Tychus Findlay from the game, but he had no desire to get entangled with him; if possible, he would prefer the man to stay as far away as possible.

A selfish scoundrel like Tychus Findlay had only one true friend, Jim Raynor, and a man like him would never, in his entire life, do anything to sacrifice himself for others.

"I believe this is just a trivial little misunderstanding, sir." Tychus's voice was deep and forceful as always. "Just now, I was only trying to help him straighten his tie. Perhaps my approach wasn't the most delicate, but surely that doesn't warrant me going to the Military Police for a cup of coffee just because I hurt him a little?"

"Amy, fix bayonets," Augustus said.

While Tychus was still haggling with Augustus, Raynor turned his gaze back to the computer screen in front of him. In the past, Raynor wouldn't have bothered to check the identity information of those coming to collect supplies, but today he had to take a look. A grudge had been formed today; Raynor had no intention of retaliating against Tychus, but he had to be careful that the man didn't hold a grudge.

The next moment, Raynor's eyes widened. "Augustus, which platoon is the Garrison Company?"

"This fortress only has one company left, so which garrison platoon do you think it is?" Augustus stood with one hand on his hip, looking at Raynor.

Originally, Fort Howe, along with the 5th Battalion, housed the 2nd Marine 3rd Battalion of Turaxis II and three battalions of the 4th Brigade of the 33rd Ground Assault Division. However, Kel-Morian forces in the area had launched a surprise attack on several cities surrounding the fortress last week. The troops in the fortress had all been deployed for support, leaving only Warfield's company, which had been forced to rest due to heavy casualties.

"Holy shit, this scoundrel is the criminal coming to join our squad," Raynor cursed.

"Hell, are you serious?" Harnack exclaimed, poking Tychus with his shotgun, which immediately drew a glare from the latter. "Why do we have to take in a convict? I remember telling that guy Warfield that the boss wanted a curvy, intellectual beauty."

"Augustus never said that," Amy, standing nearby, put down her rifle and shook her head helplessly.

"Forget it, anyway, besides being a guy, everything else isn't too bad," Harnack shrugged.

"Looks like you're the squad I'm joining?" Tychus quickly put Harnack's minor provocation behind him. He was unlucky enough, but also lucky enough, because this at least meant he didn't have to go to the Military Police.

"Like I said before, it was just a small misunderstanding. The kid with the black hair and I just had a minor disagreement. In the Marines, that's nothing. There's nothing a cigar and some No. 8 Whiskey can't solve."

"Jim, I didn't know this scoundrel's name yet." Augustus's mouth twitched twice. He then took off his hat, pushed Harnack aside, and stood in front of Tychus.

Tychus was half an inch taller than Augustus, but he quickly realized that this didn't add a shred of intimidation to his presence.

Augustus stood straight as a ramrod in front of the giant, the distance between them perhaps no more than an inch. Those cold gray eyes were fixed on him—cold, majestic, and ready to strike—reminding Tychus of the giant gliding eagles circling over his hometown.

"His name is Tychus Findlay," Raynor said.

"Mr. Findlay, this matter ends here. As the squad leader, I hope you can reconcile with Jim," Augustus said, staring into Tychus's eyes.

"But don't think for a second that I am a magnanimous person. I know you are a complete scoundrel and a selfish piece of trash. There is no honor or camaraderie in your heart; you only think about lining your pockets in the military. The only thing you care about in this life is likely the number in your bank account," he said.

"I will not allow a single rat like you to ruin the whole pot. Whether I am watching or not, you will keep your head down and behave. Otherwise, I will make you get out. Do you understand?"

"Understood." Tychus could generally gauge the sergeant's character. The man was by no means weak or easy to bully; he was young, capable, and intolerant of any nonsense. He was nothing like those old sergeants on Reading III who had developed "senile dementia" from spending years in the rear doing nothing. Trying to fool Augustus would be a very difficult task.

In Tychus's experience, young sergeants like this were often highly ambitious, caring more about their own promotion than money or women.

Although Tychus didn't understand why Augustus knew him so well the first time they met, it didn't really matter.

What bothered Tychus most wasn't that, but the fact that Augustus's definition of "lining his pockets" didn't seem very friendly toward him. If the man was truly an upright, honest person who strictly adhered to Marine regulations, then that would be fucking terrible.

Such a sergeant was a model of loyalty and excellence for both the Marines and his subordinates, but Tychus wasn't keen on serving under such a person.

Contrary to what Augustus said, Tychus was a "selfless and kind-hearted man, a loyal Federation soldier," and his ideals and ambitions were "noble and sacred" beyond words.

Tychus was engaged in a truly great cause: robbing the rich to help the poor.

Robbing the rich Federation government and the Marines to help the poorest man in the entire galaxy—himself. There was nothing that made Tychus's heavy heart beat faster than money, getting more money, and hearing the clinking of a coin purse.

To this end, he had stolen Federation supplies more than once, colluding with logistics officers to sell truckloads of weapons and armor from captured supply depots to pirates, interstellar armed groups, and even the Kel-Morians, before destroying the capture records.

If no one knew a unit had captured a batch of supplies, then, of course, it didn't exist. If all this were exposed, Tychus would be executed a hundred times over.

Other than that, Tychus hadn't done anything too outrageous. He never harmed civilians because they didn't have much money anyway. He loved beautiful women, but he never hit on decent, respectable ladies, only spending his money at legal bars and with professional practitioners.

Now, Tychus's great cause was facing a severe challenge. Tychus was only a private, a grunt. If his new squad leader was the same kind of person as him, it would be easy. Although there would be more people to split the money with, he would at least have a protective umbrella.

As long as the war continued, Tychus would always find a way to make a profit. Years of operations had given Tychus a vast network of intelligence and client relationships; as long as he had the goods, he could sell them for a good price. No matter where they came from, there was always someone willing to buy.

"Under my command, I will never treat you unfairly." After the intimidation and warning, Augustus's tone softened, though he still didn't give Tychus a pleasant look. "You're a big guy, and we have use for you here. Come with me to move the cargo. Then, go find your own gear. There are no pampered young masters or misses here. We are a unit; no one is special."

"Harnack! Pick up your cigarette butt and mop this floor clean. There are already enough assholes in this squad; stop causing me trouble."

"Oh, what does it matter? I'll go right away, little Amy."

"Hm? Why are you pulling me?"

"Finders keepers, share and share alike."

Today is Children's Day, so let us wish the Hierarch of the Daelaam, Artanis, a happy holiday—assemble your troops with one click!

If the Dark Templar are knocking at your door, you will receive the following gifts: the Master's Blade of the Dark Prelate, Raynor's star-shattering revolver, and a one-way ticket for a day trip on the warp platform.