Book 4: Chapter Thirty-One: Righteous Fury

“Doctor Jones, another nightmare?” Good-natured chuckles echoed through the carriage.

Since Professor Kathleen’s death, Indiana Jones had been deeply depressed, dulling his sorrows with drink. Today, he’d even declined invitations to play cards from his fellow superhumans—usually the archaeologist’s favorite pastime.

“I feel the train is under attack!” Doctor Jones’ eyes shone with fierce alertness, completely banishing his earlier drunken stupor.

“Are you certain?” a superhuman asked, frowning slightly.

Under normal circumstances, he wouldn’t have doubted Jones’ judgment. The archaeologist’s instincts were famously sharp. If not for that, he would have perished long ago during those bizarre archeological expeditions.

But these past two days were different. Jones had harbored deep guilt over Kathleen’s death. Drunk, he often muttered incoherently in his sleep. From last night to now, he had raised multiple false alarms.

“The Doctor is right this time. The military train just gained about 170 pounds. Oh, wait—no, another 180 pounds just now!”

An elderly man in a tuxedo, who had been resting with his eyes closed on the sofa, slowly opened his eyes. His eyes were uncanny, his pupils shaped like tiny clock faces with a single hand ticking softly.

“Germans…”

“The Gentlemen Alliance…”

The superhumans gambling instantly dropped their cards, faces paling as they stood up. One hundred seventy to 180 pounds was roughly 77 to 81 kilograms—exactly a grown man’s weight. This old man’s identity was special; he wasn’t one to joke around. This clearly meant two adult men had boarded the train.

Only German superhumans, or their group, could sneak onto a speeding Allied armored military train unnoticed.

“They still haven’t returned to Berlin…” Roars of fury erupted throughout the carriage.

“Stay calm, everyone!” The old man with clock-like pupils raised his hand slowly. The superhumans instantly quietened. In the next moment, a wave of rage and battle readiness swelled through the carriage like a tidal wave.

The disastrous failure from two nights ago flooded back into their minds. Even though many weren’t soldiers, these superhumans were, in some ways, far prouder than any soldier. They could accept failure. But failing due to stupidity? Unforgivable.

The Allies had specifically chosen Casablanca for the three-nation summit. It served not only to integrate the Allies’ unconventional warfare forces but also to lure the German superhumans into a trap and crush them swiftly, speeding up the war’s end.

To this end, Allied intelligence even deliberately leaked part of the leaders’ whereabouts, setting an inescapable trap for the Gentlemen Alliance.

The advantage of timing, geography, and people all favored the Allies in Casablanca. Even the locals’ uncooperative attitude had been considered. If the Germans couldn’t even infiltrate Casablanca, they wouldn’t come.

Moreover, Allied intelligence later learned that a traitor had emerged within the Gentlemen Alliance and secretly contacted them.

Everything went smoothly at first. With inside help, they surrounded and destroyed most of the Oranienburg Special Forces Soldiers and, without shedding a drop of blood, captured the strongest Gentlemen Alliance superhuman—the Queen of Sandstorm.

But what nobody expected: the shattered remnants—the Gentlemen Alliance with five left and fewer than thirty Oranienburg soldiers—launched a counterattack, turning the Allies’ victory feast into a nightmare.

First came an unimaginable naval bombardment, driving the leaders and scientists to scurry underground. Then an even more embarrassing event unfolded: the Justice League, numbering almost thirty superhumans, failed to stop the mere five Gentlemen Alliance members.

The Super Soldier Laboratory was stripped bare. Worse, a superhuman perished in battle—Professor Green. It was easy enough for two superhumans to settle a fight. But to kill? That required immense effort. Any experienced superhuman mastered multiple survival techniques. Their sheer vitality made them incredibly hard to kill entirely; at worst, they escaped wounded.

True, Little Lotus and Lily’s intelligence played a role. Captain Bock’s fiery explosions turned the underground tunnels into a killing ground favoring the Gentlemen Alliance. Still, the sheer numerical and power gap between the forces couldn’t be ignored.

If the US 101st Airborne Division had been made monkeys off by thirty Oranienburg soldiers, suffering nearly a thousand casualties, at least they had killed all their enemies. In stark contrast, the Gentlemen Alliance entered the tunnels with five—and escaped with six, rescuing the betrayed Queen of Sandstorm…

This wasn’t failure. This was humiliation! That’s why these elite superhumans of the Justice League willingly helped the Allied Forces hunt the Gentlemen Alliance across Casablanca. Normally, they wouldn’t stoop to foot soldier chores.

Sadly, Casablanca was chosen for its chaotic nature to lure the Germans. Now, its leaky security grid allowed those cunning piranhas to slip away.

The US 101st Airborne withdrawing from Casablanca was mockingly dubbed the Stupid 101 Division. And the Justice League? They became known as the Waste Alliance.

Casablanca was a brutal blow to the Fairy Tale Girls Team and Indiana Jones. But for the others in the Justice League, it was no lesser a setback.

Post-Casablanca, the Justice League superhumans were free to leave. Yet they split willingly. Captain America led one group, escorting the leaders to London. The other, led by the clock-eyed old man, boarded this military train to escort scientists to Ceuta.

This was the manifestation of their burning resentment. They yearned to clash with the Gentlemen Alliance again, solely to erase the stain of their last shameful defeat.

“Dean David, please command our combat strategy!” A formidable man with a thick beard bowed respectfully to the old man. “The Gentlemen Alliance defeated us last time because of their discipline and tactics. This time, the Justice League won’t be a disorganized mob.”

He was right. Though unaware of Little Lotus and Lily’s role, he knew the Gentlemen Alliance—with only five members—had operated with terrifying precision. Exploring separately, retreating together, each power utilized to its maximum.

Skorzeny’s team had even breached the Allied leaders’ bunker door. Yet at Joey’s signal, they retreated instantly. Their resolve left a deep impression.

Little Lotus and Lily’s intel only connected the pieces. The real key to Joey and Grant’s escape remained the coordinated skill of Skorzeny, Bock, Wurdenbeller, and Monica.

Without the Queen of Sandstorm’s power, Bock’s demolitions, Wurdenbeller’s Sacrifice, or Skorzeny’s leadership, Joey and Grant couldn’t have escaped alive. Just as Joey said, their victory belonged to the entire Gentlemen Alliance.

“If the enemy used explosives just now, we’d already be dead in the ravine. I suspect the Gentlemen Alliance barely got here in time to plant charges on the bridge,” Dean David spoke deliberately. “Doctor Jones felt the attack as the train neared a tunnel. Only two boarded? Likely they aimed to seize the locomotive, slow the train… helping comrades ambushing us further ahead.”

“If so,” another superhuman cut in, “enemy numbers should be heavier upfront! We must deploy our main force forward.”

“Yes. Gather all scientists here. I’ll alert the Fairy Tale Girls Team. They work together seamlessly. They’ll protect the civilians,” the Dean declared firmly.

“Doctor Jones—lead the team to the front cars. Agile fighters scale the roof! Remember: space inside is tight. Enemy attack vectors are unpredictable. Fight in disciplined teams of three!”

“Dean David, what about you…?”

“This old man prefers fighting alone,” Dean David smiled faintly. The hand on his clock-face pupil gave a sharp jump. “Leave the enemies in the rear section… to me.”

…

“Hmph!” Joey grunted, his arms flailing wildly as he barely steadied himself atop the train carriage.

After killing the Allied machine gunner on the bridge above, he’d followed Bock off the cliff. But the Dissector lacked Bock’s parachuting skill and couldn’t activate his Combat Model. He hadn’t landed smoothly on the roof; instead, he had missed the speeding train completely, hurtling through the air meters behind the last armored car’s engine.

Thankfully, the freed Queen of Sandstorm—Madame Monica—sent a whip of sand, yanking him back onto the train.

“Are you all right?” One of the swirling sand devils shimmered as Monica’s beautiful face briefly appeared within it.

“Fine!” The serial killer replied sharply to the lady’s concern, his expression frosty.

Seemingly sparing his pride, Monica chuckled softly and swiftly drifted away towards the front. She needed to help Skorzeny and the Hydra Corps board.

Joey’s face hardened as he jumped down to the coupling between cars. He kicked open the rear door of the train’s final carriage. As he stepped inside, everyone within rose to their feet, staring at him with stunned confusion.

Inside the car were two fully armed Allied soldiers and several men and women dressed casually—likely scientists. What truly shocked Joey: fate seemed to play tricks on him again. Among them were two painfully familiar faces.

“Lieutenant Gerthard!” the two recognized him simultaneously, their voices filled with two utterly different emotions.