Counterfeit Hero
Chapter 270: Volume 4, - 40, Interception (2) Former Legion Commander_2

Chapter 270: Volume 4, Chapter 40, Interception (2) Former Legion Commander_2

James numbly allowed Fatty to dress him up as an electric superhero, feeling his heart gradually sink. Not far from here, his Miracle Army was rushing in, yet now, even with everyone surrounding him, there was no way to prevent the actions of a madman.

A unit of several thousand troops had withdrawn, leaving only a Mechanical Armor Battalion to prepare to block the swarming enemies and to dress him up as a madman seemingly covered in explosives!

"Different transport ships are arriving here, and judging from the signals on SkyNet, they don’t seem to entirely belong to Stephen’s forces." Fatty looked at James with a silly grin: "We know your son has betrayed you, and Reinhardt is no good either." As he spoke, he glanced at Bonnie not far away: "Now, they all want you dead!"

"Since someone wants you dead, there will also be those who want you alive." Fatty wrinkled his disguised face like a chrysanthemum: "Can I count on some of those troops rushing here being loyal to you, and can you let me temporarily command them for you?"

"You can control my body, but don’t think you’ll get my cooperation; you can’t control my spirit," James said, the slapped part of his face burning painfully. He pulled himself together, trying to find Fatty’s weakness in this conversation in order to establish a balanced relationship: "With so few people, you can’t escape their pursuit."

"No, no, no, my dear Emperor, you got it wrong. I’m trying to help you escape their pursuit or trying to let you one day safely take off this little vest," Fatty said, patting James on the head gently, "not you helping me, understand? Besides...."

"Slap!" Fatty backhanded another slap across James’ face: "I don’t need to control your spirit; controlling your body is enough."

Seeing James’ swollen face and trembling lips, Fatty’s fingers landed on the yellow vest adorned with little deer, saying with a look of intoxication: "Maybe you like getting naked, wearing this vest with your bare butt; I could help add some neon lights to it."

"Alright." James surrendered. The immense humiliation might lead him to kill Fatty at all costs later, but now, he felt his own weakness.

James kept convincing himself that there was really no need to fight with this lunatic: "I only know that I have control over one of the troops. Among the things you took from me, there is a silver metallic box which is a tool for communicating with them. As long as there’s no interference, you can talk to them."

As he watched Fatty squat nearby fiddling with the things taken from him, James said: "If you want to live, it’s best to leave here before Stephen and Reinhardt take control of the air force; the anti-air system of this prison won’t protect us for long."

"Don’t worry. Your idiot son was afraid his troops might be attacked, so he disabled SkyNet long ago. By the time he captures the land-based air force base, the aviation control will already be in my hands... unless he can dismantle tens of thousands of anti-air missile bases spread all over Mezrich," Fatty waved James’ authorization card: "Besides, you still have your loyal Space Fleet, and I will get in touch with them!"

"Are you Russell’s student, that Federation Lieutenant strategist who saw through his plan?" James looked at the honest-faced Fatty before him, suddenly recalling Gordon’s report: "You’re that variable!"

"Variable?" Fatty smirked lewdly: "I’m not really a variable; I just enjoy stirring things up. For example, saying disgusting things when you want to eat, making annoying calls when you want to sleep, giving you a scare when you’re at your peak, making some noise when you want peace. Whatever makes you unhappy, I do it."

"If this work of mine makes you feel life is off track, then..." Fatty shrugged indifferently: "You calling me a variable isn’t wrong."

James couldn’t help but laugh, finding everything incredibly absurd. This variable, once seemingly as distant as the horizon, was standing right before him, and he still didn’t know whether this person had ruined him or saved him. Maybe he really should have listened to Gordon back then and sent someone to take out this Fatty.

"Slap!" Yet another slap landed on James’ face, cutting off his laughter abruptly. Fatty said sincerely: "Stop your damned smirking while I’m busy here."

"Stop the electronic interference for a moment while I make a call." Fatty said as he fiddled with the metallic box he had found, speaking to the Freedom Fighters beside him.

The interference quickly ceased. The reactivated metallic box contained a military communication device with strong anti-interference capabilities, but that was not under direct action of strong interference sources.

"What’s the designation of your unit? Who’s the commander?"

"The Emperor’s Direct Secret Guard, Miracle Army. Three thousand three hundred members, commanded by... Zola."

"Zola?!" Fatty exclaimed: "The former Legion Commander of the Mythical Army? This old guy’s about seventy, right?"

James nodded, clutching his burning face: "Yes, he is the only one I trust."