Ghostface ignored his excited subordinates behind him. He walked straight through the crowd, his tactical boots echoing crisply on the cold deck. Following the directives from the War Council, he headed directly to the designated temporary meeting room.
For this cleansing operation targeting the main planet of Perditia, the Council had assigned four Astra Militarum legions. Three of them were responsible for direct execution: the Perditia 3rd Legion, the Cadian 92nd Infantry Legion, and the Krieg 72nd Infantry Legion. As for the 4th Storm Troopers, they would serve as an elite reserve and would not directly participate in the initial cleansing.
The meeting room door was a standard alloy door. Ghostface didn't knock; he simply pushed it open.
The room was sparsely furnished with only a metal table and a few chairs, and the air was thick with a mixed scent of oil and ozone. The other two Astra Militarum Legion Commanders had clearly already arrived. One of them wasn't wearing a helmet, revealing a weathered face.
Several savage scars crisscrossed his face, his gaze as firm as iron, and his jawline looked as if it had been chiseled with an axe. He simply sat there, exuding an aura of an unapproachable tough guy—the kind who could pick out a bullet with a heated dagger and then staple the wound shut without batting an eye.
As for the other... he was the complete opposite. He was wrapped from head to toe in a heavy military greatcoat and uniform, wearing his iconic gas mask, revealing only a pair of goggles whose expression was obscured by shadow. He sat silently, like a statue.
Ghostface understood. The tough guy was undoubtedly Cadian, and the one wearing the gas mask was naturally the commander from the Death World of Krieg.
"I am Emil White," the tough guy spoke first, his voice hoarse and powerful. He stood up and extended a calloused hand to Ghostface, "Commander of the Cadian 92nd Infantry Legion."
"Cadian, a pleasure to meet you! Your legends resound throughout the entire galaxy; I've long wanted to witness them firsthand," Ghostface greeted him warmly, gripping his hand tightly. "My name is Ghostface, from the Perditia 3rd Legion."
After speaking, Ghostface turned to the silent masked man: "This... must be the Commander of the Krieg 72nd Infantry Legion, I presume?"
"724357," the other's voice came through the mask, muffled and brief, a man of few words.
"Alright, another masked weirdo," White muttered under his breath, then cleared his throat and said seriously, "Okay, now that everyone's here. Do either of you have any opinions on the cleansing operation that our three parties will be jointly executing?"
"Wait," Ghostface suddenly interrupted, pointing to a corner of the room, "Aren't you going to explain who these two on the floor are?"
Following the direction of his finger, it was then noticed that two people were tied up on the ground. One was human; although he tried his best to maintain composure, the panic deep in his eyes could not be hidden. The luxurious silk he wore was now dirty and disheveled. The other was a blue-skinned alien, a T'au, who simply knelt there silently, his expression unusually calm.
"Oh, him," White glanced disdainfully at the richly dressed man, "He's this planet's Governor. After seeing the Imperial fleet arrive, he was scared out of his wits, arrested this T'au diplomat overnight, and came to beg for forgiveness from us."
"Heh heh," Ghostface let out two enigmatic chuckles, "This fool, he's truly a special kind of idiot."
"Indeed," White echoed with deep agreement.
Hearing their conversation, the Governor's face instantly flushed with a hint of anger: "Even if I am guilty, you cannot insult a high-born..."
Before he could finish his sentence, a crisp gunshot exploded in the enclosed room.
Ghostface had, at some point, drawn his large-caliber solid-shot pistol, a wisp of smoke still rising from its muzzle. As for the Governor he had aimed at, the part of him above the neck had vanished, splattering onto the wall behind as a mix of red and white matter. The headless corpse swayed, then fell heavily forward to the ground, its legs still twitching in neural reflex.
Ghostface unhurriedly put away his pistol, as if he had just done something trivial. He looked around and asked, "Where were we just now?"
"How to cleanse this place," White said calmly, his expression unchanged, as if the gunshot just now had truly just been Ghostface farting.
"Oh, right," Ghostface slapped his forehead, remembering, "This is indeed a tough problem. The War Council didn't give any details, just dumped a cleansing mission on us and that was it."
"It's not really a problem; we just need to define the standards and scope ourselves, and then act autonomously," White said, his tone reflecting a veteran's pragmatism. "In a way, this is a good thing, at least we don't have those high-and-mighty lords haphazardly commanding us."
"In that case, let's designate the Upper Nest District as the primary cleansing area," Ghostface proposed. "After all, Mid-Hive workers toil sixteen hours a day, Lower Hive residents scavenge for food in garbage heaps daily, and the Bottom Hive... well, it's preposterous to suggest they have the leisure and resources to engage in diplomacy and commercial activities with aliens."
White pondered for a moment, then nodded: "You have a point. But to maintain necessary stability, a partial cleansing of the Mid and Lower Hives is still necessary. At least, ten thousand people must be executed from each hive city district as a deterrent."
"Heh heh, that works too," Ghostface agreed with this cold calculation. "As for the standard, let me think..."
Ghostface paced a few steps in the room, his hands behind his back: "I really can't think of anything for a while..."
"Or we could just follow the old custom..." White was about to speak when a low rumble of an engine suddenly sounded from outside, growing closer.
Ghostface instinctively looked up and out the window, interrupting White: "What's that?"
White also glanced: "A Tauros All-Terrain Assault Vehicle, a Storm Troopers' toy. We foot soldiers don't get such nice things."
"Then we have our standard!" Ghostface suddenly clapped his hands happily.
"Uh..." White clearly didn't follow his train of thought. "Could you elaborate?"
Ghostface's face beneath his mask broke into a brilliant smile. He pointed at the speeding assault vehicle outside the window and said, "Shoot everyone taller than the Tauros' wheels!"
At these words, the room instantly fell silent. Not only did White's expression subtly change, but even the Water Caste diplomat, who had been silently bowing his head, looked up in surprise. As for 724357, he remained hidden behind his mask, showing no reaction.
"This standard... isn't it a bit too low?" White cautiously advised, "And, there doesn't seem to be any necessary connection between height and colluding with aliens, does there?"
"Why not?" Ghostface immediately retorted, his voice suddenly rising, "A human taller than the wheels of a Tauros Assault Vehicle clearly possesses normal thought and logical ability, capable of discerning right from wrong! Since they live here yet didn't rise up to resist alien influence, that is a form of betrayal!"
He abruptly waved his hand, his voice stern and severe, and declared: "These fence-sitters, these opportunists who waver between the Emperor and the xenos, must all be shot!"
After shouting this famous quote, Ghostface felt much more at ease. As for the other two... "Such a massacre... is it not somewhat inglorious?" White frowned slightly. Beside him, 724357 remained silent.
"Then you two just watch! Leave this small matter entirely to us Helldivers!" Ghostface said triumphantly.
He turned and strode out of the meeting room door, stood in the corridor, took a deep breath, and shouted to the assembled troops outside: "guys!"
His built-in megaphone faithfully transmitted his voice to everyone in the plaza. The players, who had been busy with their own tasks, instinctively turned to look at him, and even many soldiers from other legions cast curious glances.
"The entire Upper Nest District is full of traitors and disloyal individuals who have sided with the xenos!" Ghostface declared succinctly. "The standard is simple! Anyone taller than the wheels of the Storm Troopers' Tauros vehicle over there can be shot! Now, go rummage through everything and find good stuff! What you find is entirely up to your luck and diligence!"
After a brief silence, a thunderous cheer erupted from the player faction.
"Woohoo! This crappy game finally has a looting phase!"
"Sir is awesome! I give this reason full marks!"
"For Super Perditia!"
Meanwhile, the soldiers of the other Astra Militarum legions, the Cadian veterans and the Storm Troopers elites, continued with their own affairs. The Krieg soldiers still wore their masks, showing no expression.
But clearly, in the minds of these allied forces, the Helldivers Legion, having pulled off such a stunt, was rapidly sliding towards an image of "shooting whoever they want, like Catachan tough guys."