The military police company used the opportunity to search the sealed lead case, and Gwen Stacy unearthed an old violation
The emergency red lights on the concrete walls of the corridor flickered on and off.
Diesel exhaust fumes mixed with condensate as they poured in through the vents condensed into a thin, slippery layer of frost on the ground.
Lynn carried the lead box in his right hand, his steps steady.
The passage cleared by the military police company was only wide enough for two people.
The edges of the steel plates on both sides of the riot shields were still covered with undried yellow mud.
Just as Lynn was about to pass the last shield bearer, half a black rubber baton came flying from the side.
The baton stopped precisely two inches in front of the handle of the lead box.
The adjutant beside the captain taking the lead took half a step forward.
The adjutant was not wearing his regular soft hat; his black steel helmet was pulled down very low, revealing half of his bloodless, square chin.
He wore two barbed military police badges on his right shoulder.
"Director Lynn, the dispatch order is indeed compliant."
A faint metallic crackling came from the adjutant's throat microphone.
His right hand remained pressed against the anti-slip threads of the baton handle, showing no intention of retracting it.
"However, according to Article 3 of the riot control and isolation guidelines, all enclosed containers that cross the cordon can be inspected non-destructively by the on-duty officer."
The ventilation fans in the corridor slowed down.
The breathing of the young soldiers maintaining guard on both sides grew heavier.
Gwen Stacy stopped and stood half a step behind Lynn.
The hem of her coat fluttered slightly in the wind, revealing a section of gray-black tactical field trousers.
Non-destructive testing?
Gwen Stacy glanced at the bronze star on the adjutant's collar, her voice indifferent.
"The lead box is 2.5 millimeters thick, and the outer layer is sealed with a Level 3 security lead seal."
"The portable X-ray machine in the defense zone can't penetrate the lead layer. Your so-called non-destructive testing is nothing more than trying to tear a crack in the seal."
The adjutant's eyes flickered, his gaze sweeping over the Liaison Office badge on Gwen Stacy's chest.
"Director Gwen Stacy, the stolen item is a core card chip from the Department of Technology, a dangerous item that can cause pipeline overload."
"The officer was also thinking about the safety of the entire repair shop."
"Once the box is opened and a quick look confirms there are no prohibited crystals, the military police will immediately escort the two to the ground transfer station."
The two soldiers behind the adjutant picked up the riot net launcher.
The transmitter's gas valve emitted a slight hissing sound as it filled with air.
This is blatant pressure.
Lynn remained rooted to the spot, the black lead box in his hand not sinking an inch.
What did Monk promise you?
Lynn looked into the adjutant's eyes.
"If we can find even a single capacitor in this box, all the bad debts at the repair shop tonight can be pinned on the Liaison Office office."
"Even the responsibility for illegally deploying troop transport vehicles outside the defense zone can be wiped clean."
The adjutant's Adam's apple bobbed, and his fingers tightened slightly on the baton.
"It's my duty; please cooperate, Director."
Gwen Stacy suddenly chuckled.
She unzipped her trench coat and pulled out a thin stack of yellow printing papers from the waterproof folder inside.
The edges of the paper showed signs of curling due to prolonged exposure to moisture.
Gwen Stacy held the stack of papers and waved them half an inch in front of the adjutant.
Do you recognize the heading on this paper?
The adjutant's gaze fell on the top of the paper; the deep blue lead type printed by a dot-matrix printer stung his eyes.
"Handover Form for Field Deployment of the 3rd Armored Company of the Defense Zone".
"Two months ago, on September 14th."
Gwen Stacy's long fingers turned the first page, pointing to the pen signature in the "person in charge" column.
"The first platoon of the Third Defense Zone police company, under the pretext of 'routine field training,' has been transferred without authorization from its original post at the seventh oil depot."
"This team was stuck in an unmarked area of the underground pipe network for a full thirty-six hours."
The adjutant's face turned pale instantly.
"That's normal attrition from defense mobilization..."
"Normal wear and tear?"
Gwen Stacy interrupted him, her tone completely flat.
"This is the old transfer order that your company hasn't yet verified at the dispatch center."
"According to Wartime Act No. 15 of the Joint Conference of the Management Committee, any armed unit that leaves its defense zone without authorization and fails to report and return to its original position within 48 hours will be marked as an 'out-of-control force' at the defense level."
Gwen Stacy took a half step forward, her boot stopping just in front of the adjutant's toe.
"You are standing here now, wearing unverified organizational codes."
"According to the rules, you don't even have the legal standing to enforce the law in the Third Defense Zone."
The corridor was deathly silent.
Only the mortar seeping from the overhead cable trough dripped onto the adjutant's Negasonic Teenage Warhead.
A bead of cold sweat trickled down the forehead of the captain leading the team.
The captain turned his head sharply and stared intently at his adjutant beside him.
That transfer order was a secret document issued by Monk in private, and it had been kept at the very bottom of the defense zone's confidential room for the past two months.
Without the highest directive from the Joint Investigation Team, no one can uncover the truth.
But now, the Liaison Office Chief has truly slapped that piece of paper in the face.
"If you open the box now, I will press the emergency notification beacon on the spot."
Gwen Stacy snapped the document clip shut with a crisp sound, the plastic clasp making a snapping sound.
The report was very simple.
"A military police company, illegally armed and assembled, forcibly intercepted top-secret materials belonging to the Joint Conference on the third underground level."
"The district Inspection Group and the Black Crow Honor Guard from the Stability Maintenance Office will arrive at the Seventh Gate within three minutes."
"Captain, do you want to go to a court-martial with your Commander Monk, or do you want this arrogant adjutant to take his baton away now?"
Gwen Stacy's voice wasn't loud, but it struck the hearts of every military policeman like a heavy hammer.
Several young privates who were holding carbines unconsciously shifted their heels back half an inch.
They were just cannon fodder, low-level soldiers who received their pay.
No one wants to be tied to the gallows of an armed rebellion just because of a verbal order from their superior.
The rubber baton the adjutant held in mid-air began to tremble.
He looked at Gwen Stacy's fearless face, then at Lynn's calm and deep eyes.
Lynn didn't say a single extra word from beginning to end.
This calmness is more oppressive than drawing a gun.
The other side wasn't bluffing; they held a fatal weakness that could uproot the entire military police force.
The captain finally couldn't hold back any longer, stepped forward, grabbed the adjutant's wrist, and forcibly pressed the baton down.
"Director Gwen Stacy, you flatter me."
The captain's voice was hoarse, revealing a hint of barely concealed panic.
"The adjutant also found the regulations too rigidly worded."
"Detailed riot control measures must naturally give way to strategic deployment orders."
The captain stepped back, stood at attention, and ran his right hand smoothly along the edge of his helmet.
"First Company, About Turn!"
"Lift alert, retreat to standby line number two!"
The shield bearers breathed a long sigh of relief and retreated in unison, sheathing their shields.
The heavy steel shield dragged on the concrete with a screeching sound.
Lynn ignored the livid-faced adjutant and strode across the cleared passageway, carrying his lead case.
A gentle breeze stirred up the soles of his boots, brushing against the cold bronze badge on the captain's chest.
Gwen Stacy put away her briefcase, tucked it back into the lining of her trench coat, and followed Lynn a couple of steps behind at a leisurely pace.
The military police company in the corridor quickly retreated to the rear.
The footsteps were disordered and hurried.
Lynn walked past the corner of the blast door, his eyes glancing at the faded yellow chemical protection markings on the wall.
The lead box maintains a stable center of gravity in the right hand.
The backup exhaust fan at the top of the corridor was spinning at a low speed.
Four huge, rusty blades whistled through the air overhead.
Just as the last rank of soldiers in the military police company retreated into the shadows around the corner.
A very thin reflection of cold light suddenly flashed through the gaps on the back of the thick iron blades of the exhaust fan.
The light was extremely condensed, exhibiting a pale purple halo that only high-precision sniper lens coatings could refract.
The spot of light paused for half a second on the back of Lynn's trench coat, near the heart area.
Lynn didn't stop; the fingers hanging inside her left sleeve twitched slightly.
The tiny crystal in the palm of my hand made a barely perceptible soft sound as it rubbed against the fabric.
The wind direction is changing.
The cold air drawn out of the ventilation shaft overhead carried a very faint smell of smokeless propellant residue.
Don't look up.
Lynn's voice was so deep it almost disappeared into the roar of the diesel engine.
Gwen Stacy's right hand hung naturally at her sides, the fine Silk in her tactical glove palm already clinging to the edge of the cable trench on the ground.
"At the three o'clock position, the third 100-leaf valve of the exhaust shaft."
Gwen Stacy's lips moved slightly, but her gaze remained fixed on the long, empty corridor ahead.
"Monk didn't intend for us to leave the third basement level alive."
The green light at the emergency exit at the end of the corridor was quietly lit in the darkness.
The cold light illuminated the concrete ramp ahead, riddled with deep pits.