Sixth Reserve Team

After Brian and the other successful interviewees had been chosen by Susan and the other second-generation heirs, someone finally came and escorted them back to the place where they had parked earlier.

Someone asked about the follow-up arrangements.

In the end, the security guard escorting them only said coldly, "Wait for notice."

"What a fucking day."

Brian rubbed his hungry stomach and, rather speechless, turned the car around and drove toward the city.

He returned to his apartment.

All the way until evening, Brian still had not received any new email notification.

That made him faintly uneasy.

As far as he knew, a department like that was very likely to conduct a strict background check.

On the surface, Brian was indeed an orphan who had been adopted at the age of eight, with a clean background. Otherwise, he would not have passed the coroner's office's Z review back then.

But his relationship with the Camo Family simply could not withstand a deep investigation.

If he could not get into the NW organization, that would mean he could not fulfill his agreement with his uncle.

If he could not fulfill the agreement, he would not get the money!

Without money, his adoptive parents' medical fees next month—

Brian still could not come up with them.

"If there's really no other way, I'll have to strike first when the time comes!"

At this thought, a ruthless glint flashed through Brian's eyes.

From a hidden compartment in the apartment, he took out an unused phone and silently dialed the number of the psychiatrist who had helped him back then.

The other party's connections were very wild.

He could get hold of many prohibited items.

More importantly, when it came to fees, the other party did not only accept money.

Gritting his teeth, making his brother suffer a little, Brian felt he could still afford to pay that price.

Just as Brian was preparing to do something crazy, the information files of these candidates had already been transmitted from Ace Training Camp to the intelligence team at the FBI's Los Angeles branch.

One candidate's file after another was reviewed and sent back.

Just then, a capable-looking white young man with a crew cut said to the supervisor sitting in his seat and leisurely reading a newspaper, "Supervisor, there's a candidate here whose file has been marked."

"Send it over."

The supervisor unhurriedly folded the newspaper in his hands, then opened his computer and clicked on the file his subordinate had sent.

A moment later, his brows furrowed slightly.

"Brian Lee... orphan, adoptive parents."

According to the information entered into the system, he did not find anything abnormal about this person.

No criminal record.

His growth trajectory was also clear and straightforward.

The other party had also previously passed the coroner's office's review, which meant there was most likely no issue with the information either.

Then who had marked this person's file?

The FBI intelligence team's database was actually shared with the databases of the major police departments in many areas, but within the FBI, there were also many subdivided teams responsible for various fields. So occasionally, situations arose where a criminal arrested by one department was actually an informant for another department.

To avoid misunderstandings, the information of certain special individuals would be marked.

The problem was, This mark.

Even the intelligence director of the Los Angeles branch was seeing it for the first time.

The director did not dare delay. He immediately used his director-level authority to send Brian's situation to his superiors.

His superiors, however, did recognize that mark, and forwarded it again.

And so.

Half an hour later.

A mature female con artist wandering around with a puppy was leisurely walking the dog in a park when she received an urgent communication from her superior. "Veterinarian, why did you mark a relative of an Infiltrator?"

Laura held the puppy in one arm and her phone in the other, a little stunned. "You mean Brian?"

"Yes. This man is currently trying to join the NW Hunting Team being formed in Los Angeles."

Laura said frankly:

"Brian is my latest amusement.

"The guy is a kindhearted handsome man.

"Boss, you know me.

"I can't resist that type.

"But I extracted his bodily fluids and tested them. I can confirm he isn't a new Awakened, so there's no need to be so nervous.

"He's probably cannon fodder that Subject 132 the Infiltrator is using to test the waters.

"There should be someone around Subject 132 the Infiltrator who knows about us and leaked our existence."

The other side fell silent for a moment before saying coldly:

"I know what to do.

"For the time being, don't touch that Brian.

"If you play him to death, "it'll be easy to alert Subject 132 the Infiltrator.

"Subject 132 is a very promising target. We need to let him keep growing freely. It's not time for us to harvest him yet."

"Okay, Boss."

"How is your current mission going?"

"It's been too short. I'm still fishing."

"Hurry up.

"Subject 112 the Infiltrator has been committing crimes much more frequently. She's probably close to losing control.

"We have to harvest her as soon as possible."

"Mm."

After hanging up.

Laura put away her phone and smiled as she stroked the head of the little dog curled up in her arms. "Thirteen, looks like you won't be going back to Los anytime soon. From now on, you'll stay with me. I hope your master's prime doesn't wither too quickly, or I'll be very angry!"

"Whimper~"

Thirteen's voice trembled, weak and helpless.

Past ten at night.

Just as Brian was boredly watching a soap opera and about to doze off.

Ding-dong~

At last, the computer speakers sounded with the notification of a new email.

Brian shot up like a spring, rushed over to the computer, and opened the new email:

[Dear Mr. Brian, Congratulations on passing the first round of interviews for the NW reserve force.

You have become a member of the sixth reserve team in NW Los Angeles.

Please arrive at the Western Division on September 30 at 10:00 a.m. sharp, and participate in the second round of assessment together with your sixth reserve team.

You have obtained temporary NW law enforcement authority.

Your law enforcement authority will take effect when the second round of assessment begins, and will terminate when the assessment ends.

During this period, you will possess the following authorities:]

"Good!"

After reading the email, Brian jumped up in excitement.

Although judging by the email, he had not officially joined NW yet, at least it meant he did not have to face the threat from his uncle's side right now.

He really was short on time to develop!

No one knew what tomorrow would bring.

He had to rest early.

Brian sent an email to the supervisor at the medical examiner's office explaining his current situation, then turned off the lights and went straight to sleep.

The next day.

Brian drove out early and arrived at the Western Division near Hollywood.

The LAPD's stations were arranged in a three-tier structure: headquarters, divisions, and area stations.

One headquarters, four divisions, and twenty-one area stations.

Some communities and streets also had additional duty posts set up.

The Western Division Brian had come to oversaw five area stations: Hollywood, Pacific District, West Hollywood District, Wilshire District, and Olympic District.

The overall economic environment here was pretty good.

The Western Division looked impressive too.

Brian found the security post on duty, handed a cigarette to the middle-aged uncle who looked about ten months pregnant, and explained the situation. The man told him to go to the large conference room on the third floor of Building B.

By the time Brian found the place...

He discovered there was only one tall, slender blonde woman inside, her head lowered as she kept playing with a Smith & Wesson M29 revolver. Her movements were flashy, nimble, and ever-changing. At a glance, she was clearly skilled at this.

But people who still liked playing with revolvers these days...

Were either from the older generation, Or the new generation raised under the influence of Western cowboy movies.

People like that all enjoyed American quick draw.

Hearing the movement, The woman raised her head. Seeing Brian staring at her hands, a smile appeared on her pretty, collagen-filled face. "Do you like playing with guns?"

Once he saw the woman's appearance clearly, Brian's eyes lit up, and he said without hesitation, "I do! I'm a staunch fan of American quick draw!"

Though this gun wasn't that "gun,"

None of that mattered!

Brian hadn't expected that he would actually get to see this beautiful woman again.

This was simply a gift from God!

When the woman saw the undisguised joy in Brian's eyes, she thought he really was an American quick-draw enthusiast. Add in the fact that Brian was six-foot-two, with top-tier looks and complexion, and now dressed up in a proper, respectable way, and she immediately felt a favorable impression of him.

She waved the Smith & Wesson M29 revolver in her hand. "I'm Susan, leader of the NW 6th Reserve Squad. When we have time, let's compete in rapid fire."

"I'm looking forward to it."

Brian nodded with calm indifference, but inwardly, he was pondering that he needed to spend some time practicing his marksmanship.

His human-outline shooting technique was fast, sure, but it just wasn't accurate.

There was no helping it. This kind of thing depended at least somewhat on talent.

Brian just so happened to have no talent in that area.

So he preferred explosives.

It was past eight now.

Still early.

To keep Susan from discussing American quick draw with him, Brian took the initiative and brought up another topic, directing Susan's attention to all kinds of strange and bizarre cases.

These were all things he had heard here and there.

But Brian was good at embellishing.

Susan, who had only just entered society, listened with frequent exclamations, or else kept asking about how the cases developed afterward and what happened to the killers.

Her reaction also made Brian realize that this beautiful team leader might very well be a second-generation somebody who had come down here to gild her résumé.

Damn.

She was this pretty, and she had status and background too.

Brian couldn't help recalling what the doctor had urged him during his physical back then: Mr. Brian, your gastrointestinal condition isn't very good. You should eat more soft things in your daily life to help regulate your stomach and intestines.

He felt he ought to take advice.

Under Brian's deliberate boasting, Susan's good impression of Brian rose in a straight line.

What a wealth of cases and autopsy experience!

Uncle Marquis had even said Brian was young and lacked experience.

He clearly just couldn't stand seeing him do well!

Susan became even more convinced that the people she had chosen were the cream of the crop!

He talked himself up for more than an hour.

Brian licked his dry lips.

It was almost ten.

Why hadn't the other team members arrived yet?

He was about to run out of things to say.

To avoid exposing the fact that he was actually useless, Brian had no choice but to stop talking, take out his phone, glance at it, and then say in a very fake-innocent way, "Team Leader Susan, the time we agreed on was ten o'clock, right?"

Susan nodded. "Including you, there are four people in total. Everyone was told to gather here at ten in the morning."

"It's almost ten. Looks like the remaining three are all seasoned old hands..." Brian prepared to keep fanning the flames.

If he didn't suppress his new colleagues and isolate his superior, how was he supposed to become her trusted aide?

How was he supposed to make Susan develop a sense of dependence on him?

Someone like Susan, a second-generation elite, couldn't be won over with simple romance.

Because there would still be resistance from her family.

Only by making Susan habitually dependent on him would she firmly stand on his side when her family objected, and tell her father, "Father, he's not the kind of person you say he is! You don't understand him!"

Did you learn that?

Susan's interest was piqued by Brian's words. "Brian, why do you say those three are seasoned old hands? Do you know them?"

Just as Brian was about to continue, out of the corner of his eye, he happened to notice someone at the door.

Brian turned his head and saw three men standing outside, smiling as they looked at him, as if saying: Go on, buddy. Keep talking. We're all listening.

Brian:

At that moment, he felt like a clown.

Fortunately, he was thick-skinned and quick to react. With a perfectly serious expression, he said to Susan, "Because only truly capable old hands would ignore certain useless rules. Strength is their confidence. On the other hand, those who strictly follow every rule usually don't have much ability, which is why they don't dare trample on the rules."

Susan nodded thoughtfully.

So that was how it was.

It seemed her choice had been right!

They were all talented people!

Outside the door, the three grown men—one old, one middle-aged, and one young—had their originally unfriendly expressions turn into looks of intense approval.

They had thought they had run into a petty colleague who liked to stir up trouble.

They hadn't expected to meet a kindred spirit!

"Buddy, I like what you said. We're going to get along great from now on!"

Among the three, the strongest and most powerful-looking middle-aged man rushed into the conference room and gave Brian an enthusiastic hug.

Brian wasn't sure whether the guy's words were sincere or not.

But his enthusiasm was definitely real.

He was starting to feel like he couldn't breathe.

Susan looked at the harmonious scene of her subordinates meeting one another for the first time, and her beautiful eyes curved into crescents.

She clapped her hands and said with a smile, "All right, guys. Since everyone's here, let's begin the first meeting of the NW 6th Reserve Squad. The contents of this meeting are also related to whether we can become official members."

Two chapters, seven thousand words. Update complete.

Brothers, see you tomorrow at five in the afternoon, right on time.