Military District Hospital.
In the emergency center, five or six of the most top-notch attending doctors in the military district had all teamed up on the operating table to save a young man covered in blood. He was hooked up with tubes all over his body, and apart from the vital signs on the monitors indicating that he was still alive, his face looked as lifeless as a corpse.
Outside the emergency center, two soldiers in tattered clothes with bloodstained faces waited anxiously. They were as restless as ants on a hot pan.
The longer the delay, the more difficult the surgery.
After waiting for two whole hours in torment, the doors of the operating room finally opened. The two soldiers, along with their superior and instructor who had rushed over, surrounded the doctors.
"How is he?"
Four out of the five doctors sighed and left, leaving one to speak to them: "We managed to save him."
The two comrades and the other instructors breathed a sigh of relief. The instructor noticed the doctor's expression wasn't too good, as if he hadn't finished speaking.
"Will there be any aftereffects? What are the chances of recovery from the injuries in the future?"
"Sigh," the doctor sighed, "External and internal injuries aren't the big problem. The most serious issue is the genetic liquid injected into his body. It's the first time we encountered it. Technically speaking, that genetic liquid is a defective chemical product. It was rescued too late, causing those serums to have already fused into his blood, completely obstructing and suppressing his bodily functions."
"This..." The instructor and the two comrades felt a bad hunch.
"What do you mean by a decline in functions? Do you mean it'll affect his overall abilities?"
The doctor nodded, "And the impact is significant. You might want to do a test later on. I'm sorry, such a pity for this soldier!"
After the attending comrades and a few instructors saw off the doctors, all of them looked gloomy.
The two comrades covered their faces facing the wall, one of them punched the wall until it bled.
"It's all my fault!" He said red-eyed, "Boss Tobby told me to evacuate, it's me..."
Before he could finish, a certain instructor grabbed his collar and said, "I told you before every mission to follow Tobby Curry's command as your superior, especially for such significant actions. You swallowed the words 'obey orders,' didn't you?"
"I... I just wanted to keep a souvenir to commemorate the success of this mission. Who knew there was a survivor!"
The superior sitting opposite asked, "What exactly happened?"
The other comrade squatted there and said gloomily, "Boss Tobby ordered us to retreat. When Edward King turned back to get some symbolic item, an old bio-researcher ambushed him. Boss Tobby pushed Edward down but was injected with a large dose of semi-product experimental chemical liquid in his back by that old man."
The superior said, "You cannot escape the responsibility for this, Edward King."
Edward King said, "I only apologize to Boss Tobby."
The instructor reprimanded, "No use saying this nonsense now, get inside and watch over him."
Only then did the two comrades get up and enter the ward.
The instructor, staying outside, looked at the superior and asked, "Can he still enter The Griffin Division?"
The superior said with a bit of reluctance, "The assessment task was completed perfectly, and the research facility was thoroughly destroyed, but if Tobby Curry's functional abilities have declined, you know The Griffin Division doesn't accept incompetents. Wait for the evaluation team to assess his overall abilities before making a decision. But you should prepare for the worst. Of course, don't be discouraged, you recommended all three of them to The Griffin Division, didn't you? There are two others who completed this mission successfully. They can enter The Griffin Division's reserve team."
The instructor looked very displeased but leaned against the wall and took out a cigarette.
Behind the door to the ward, Edward King listened to their conversation with red, teary eyes. Actually, the other comrade sitting by the window had largely guessed the outcome, and without saying a word, he adjusted the covers for the comatose Tobby Curry. He didn't want to say much more, as he had already given Edward a good beating in the hospital corridor.
Several days later.
I came out from the examination room while waiting for the test results. I stood on the corridor's balcony, wiping my sweat with a towel. Edward King sat there without speaking, eyes red. He dared not hear the test results that might separate the three of them. As the team of steadfast comrades, losing me would mean the collapse of their unit. I also sat down without saying a word.
The head of the testing room came over with a document and said to me in the corridor, "Not very promising, do you want to know the result?"
I nodded, forcing a smile, "Go ahead."
"Your explosiveness, speed, and strength have all severely declined from A Level to C Level."
An average person's physical functioning and explosiveness generally only reach E+ Level, while more robust ones reach D Level. Athletes and extreme individuals can reach D+ Level and above to C Level and C+. Then B, B+, A, A+, S...
Currently, Tobby Curry's C Level means his abilities are slightly above ordinary people. Compared to the minimum B rating required for The Griffin Division, the difference is too significant, which is why the evaluator felt sorry to tell him.
My face still had a smile, but my heart was filled with bitterness.
After the report manager left, Edward King bent over and cried.
I moved over and patted his shoulder, sighed, "Take care of yourself in The Griffin Division, listen to orders in the future, no more horsing around."
"Boss Tobby..." Edward King hugged me in tears, "I'm sorry!"
I patted his back before breaking away from the hug, then walked down the stairs. Edward watched his back with such sorrow and desolation. I arrived at the doorway and saw another comrade from Spartan. I smiled back, "Do well, I'll be proud of you two."
Jason Davis nodded, "I'll see you in The Griffin Division."
No more was needed; a single sentence was enough to show their trust in me.
I let out a bitter laugh and went back to my dorm to pack my things. I wasn't a sentimental man. Underperformance means failure. Being disqualified means elimination. I wouldn't stay here for others to be put in a tough spot out of sentimentality.
After packing my clothes, I looked at the framed photo of the trio on the table and eventually put it in my suitcase before leaving the dorm.
In the instructor's office.
"Tobby, can't you stay? Even if your skills have declined, you can still manage the recruits as an instructor."
"Boss, I just want to take a break and rest. Please don't hold me back," I said with a bitter smile.
The instructor sighed helplessly, then took out a referral letter and said, "I believe you'll overcome the difficulties and return. I've arranged for a position through an old friend of mine at the police station in Summit City if you want a stable job. Take this referral letter and report it to the police station there."
"Thank you." I saluted before leaving, carrying the referral and my baggage.
Leaving was just to avoid making Edward King and the others feel guilty and difficult. For entering The Griffin Division, they had worked arduously for years, and I couldn't let them be emotional and refuse The Griffin Division's summons because of me.
Arriving at the military district gate, I turned for one last look at my base for the past five years. This wasn't the end. I would come back. Entering The Griffin Division was my greatest ambition as a soldier! To give up just because of this accident was beyond me. If that was all, I wouldn't be Tobby Curry!
I grinned at the instructors and others, "I will return!"
Behind him, all the soldiers and instructors in the camp gave him a salute to honor the small and great glories he brought to The 5th Military Region over the years.