I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun

Chapter 694

"Alright. What’s your name?"

"...Laplace Evelyn Landia. My original name was Rascal Evelyn Landia. I’m 27. I was sentenced to 15 years for a $360,000 fraud case. I was mutated in early January... and escaped prison around the same time. At some point, they stopped giving us food, and I thought I was going to starve, so I left."

"I’m not really interested in the reasons, let’s move on. Your activities after that... well, just give me a brief summary. I've already heard most of it from you, and we'll cross-check with the others who came along anyway."

"Isn’t there a plea deal or something? Maybe take into account that I was a whistleblower or something..."

"Forget about that. Central Park doesn’t have the capacity to lock up prisoners in situations like this. If we had the time to imprison someone, we'd throw them into labor."

2:00 AM, Central Park HQ Special Interrogation Room.

Two mutants sat across from each other at a table fixed to the floor in the center of the room. One was heavily armed, and the other, a mutant known as 'Zodiac,' had her hands shackled and was tied to the table with thick steel chains.

Olivia Nix Lorelei, and the mutant occupying a role within the Hyena Council—Zodiac.

The room, though small, was sparse—just the two people and a table. Zodiac scanned the room and noticed an oddly shaped tube near the ceiling, where the wall and ceiling met. With the speed only a trained mutant could achieve, she noticed the movement of air around her.

Olivia sat with her arms crossed and legs crossed, while operators outside the interrogation room kept a cautious watch.

There was no friendliness, but neither was there complete hostility. They simply seemed to be wondering what she was doing here. Added to that, there was also the remark about not having the capacity to isolate prisoners.

Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad as long as she kept her guard up. Having spent six years of her fifteen-year sentence in prison, Zodiac still had the sharpness and instincts that she knew were needed here. In an attempt to ease the tension, she decided to ask a small question.

"…What’s that thing on the wall?"

"Flamethrower. If you do anything funny, it’ll burn the whole room down. By the way, I wouldn’t die even if it’s turned on."

"…"

She regretted asking.

Zodiac immediately shifted her focus to ignore the comment. The room, which had felt somewhat comfortable just a moment ago, now felt oppressive. She forced herself to focus on something else. Perhaps she should just keep quiet. Her thoughts were running wild, but at that moment, she noticed Olivia’s imposing figure sitting across from her. At the same time, Zodiac instinctively turned her head to the side.

Her own transformation had left certain effects on her, but this was—of course, as soon as she thought that, Olivia shot her a glare.

Despite her physical changes, Olivia was a highly skilled and dangerous individual, and Zodiac had learned through her prison experience how to submit when confronted by someone stronger.

"I know you've changed, but don’t stare at me so much. It’s already annoying enough."

"Got it."

"Anyway, I’ve pretty much gathered all the info on the civilians and prisoners you brought, and I’d like to tell you it’s none of your concern from here on out... but it’s not so simple. So let me tell you a few things."

"…Thank you."

"First, serious criminals, drug dealers, etc. will be locked up without mercy. In wartime, escape, murder, arson, looting, rape, and drug trafficking are punishable by death in certain states. I’ve been lenient with you. You get that, right?"

Zodiac nodded. While it wasn’t exactly the case for her—she couldn’t completely deny the existence of complicity and the fact that it played a part in the entire system.

She knew that given the circumstances, the new guards in Central Park would show some leniency, but what mattered now was what came next.

Zodiac realized she wouldn’t have had much of a choice in any case. Had the transport aircraft not arrived, she and her followers would likely have ended up in ashes at Port Hamilton, crushed by missiles, or at worst, captured and executed by the enemy.

She stayed silent, and Olivia kept flipping through a tablet, sorting through the details of her actions and crimes.

"Hmm..."

"...?"

Olivia wasn’t a lawyer, but it wasn’t particularly important at this point. There was no time to scrutinize the details, and if she focused on that, things wouldn’t move forward smoothly. She just needed to evaluate the pros and cons.

After reviewing some precedents, she didn’t find anything worth applying. So, she turned her attention to Zodiac’s contributions—or what she could call contributions.

The first and most obvious one was that she had sold out the location of the same gang to the cleaners. This resulted in the death of around 1,000 gang members in Brooklyn.

"…That wasn’t all."

Next, Lower Manhattan.

This, too, could be seen as a contribution. Sending over 1,000 escapees to Lower Manhattan drew attention from the Russian-Chinese joint force division stationed there.

Finally, Port Hamilton.

This was also clearly a contribution. Though the gang that came down there to stop Zodiac and her escape was an additional complication, she had lured the gang in by using herself as bait.

Had she been born a few hundred years ago, she could have called herself the Pied Piper.

But, of course, there were flaws too. Being imprisoned in the first place was a negative point, and escaping alone brought its own consequences. However, since she was starving and unable to continue, it was left in a gray area.

Zodiac had also carried around nearly 200 engineers, a unique group that set her apart from others who just led gangs. About 100 of her followers who had betrayed her were already wiped out at Port Hamilton.

But being a mutant brought additional complications. After her transformation, she went from a regular prisoner to someone who required constant monitoring.

Zodiac had done her part. Now it was time for her to adjust, but at least she knew she wouldn’t have to face a fate worse than death.

"…Anyway, please don’t overdo it. Don’t treat me like a child."

As the day passed and the situation progressed, everyone’s role began to solidify. With more missions lined up, including an upcoming operation in New Haven, the tension was palpable.

And amidst all this, a new conversation began.

"By the way, Rookie."

"Yeah?"

"...You still act like a civilian, not a soldier."

"Ugh..."

At this point, Eugene couldn’t help but feel slightly anxious—maybe his usual charm wouldn’t work on this person.

The morning was drawing to a close, but the lines between night and day had blurred long ago. Central Park was still busy.

"…Alright, understood?"

"Yeah?"

"Don’t treat me like a kid. Don’t beat me down like when I first arrived, okay?"

"Is that what you're asking? Like I'm supposed to treat you like my daughter?"

"You don’t even have a daughter, so don’t act like you know what that’s like. Anyway, she’s a good kid, don’t go too hard on her. She might be inexperienced, but once she learns, she’ll do fine. I’ll be going to plan the mission details with that seal and eagle, so keep an eye on her."

"And now that you mention it, it’d be better if you kept an eye on her yourself."

"Ugh, stop it. I'm busy. I’m leaving!"

Clank!

The door slammed shut, and with it, the piece of paper that had been pointed to earlier returned to its place. The time was 10:30 AM. The next day had arrived.

Owen, the team leader of the ex-squadron, sat staring at the milk-colored hair on the table, his smile widening as he realized what had just happened. He couldn’t believe how quickly she had changed from the way he first saw her.

It wasn’t entirely unexpected. From Logan’s earlier comments, it was clear that this "Eugene" kid was different. Owen couldn’t deny it, especially after seeing Logan bring the kid in.

"Seeing the kid like this after witnessing such terrible things for months… it’s understandable, I guess."

He didn’t mind the thought, but he knew it was something he couldn’t say in front of her. But Logan seemed to have a similar understanding, finding solace in Eugene’s presence.

The most important thing now, though, was that Owen, wearing the Icarus Gear, was the one capable of handling the situation. As the most capable operator, he was expected to guide Eugene through this chaotic world.

And as the team was tied to the president's newly formed task force, Owen knew he would have to prepare Eugene as a capable soldier. His training could no longer be delayed.

Raising his finger, Owen made a small gesture, signaling for the door to open. It wasn’t long before someone awkwardly entered.

"Ah, hello..."

"Sit down. Have you eaten?"

"Yes, I had breakfast."

"Good. I brought you a chair without a backrest since you have a tail. You’ll have to bear with it."

Eugene nodded carefully and sat down. The chair creaked as she adjusted herself, but Owen chose to ignore it, focusing on what Logan had said before leaving. He had already met Eugene once before, back when Logan had introduced her, and they had worked together. But now, it was time for a serious discussion.

One was the instructor, the other the trainee.

When Owen first met Eugene, he didn’t think she was particularly special, but after working with her, he realized she wasn’t someone who would easily be indifferent in a life-or-death situation.

He opened his mouth.

"How’s your sleep?"

"...Huh?"

"Don’t question me. I’m asking if you’re sleeping well or having nightmares."

"Yes... I’ve been fine, thanks to others watching over me..."

"Good to hear."

That was all Owen needed to hear. Eugene hadn’t suffered as much as he had expected, at least not in the ways that would lead to extreme PTSD. The fact that she wasn’t showing any signs of it was already a positive sign.

Owen smiled softly before continuing.

"I’m sure you already know, but my name’s Antoni Owens. I’m a Staff Sergeant. I didn’t take the warrant rank on purpose, but that’s not important now. What matters is that I’m the one who will train you from here on out."

"Ah, yes. What should I do?"

"You’ve got the basics down. It’s not going to be difficult. I’m going to make sure you learn enough muscle memory with firearms. Don’t respond to this, just listen."

Eugene nodded, and Owen handed her a sheet of paper.

"I’ll tell you the daily routine. On days without missions or emergency deployments:"

"Wake up, have breakfast, and come to the shooting range by 08:00."

"Yes."

"From there, shoot on the flat range until 13:00, then break for lunch. After lunch, go back to the range and continue shooting until 18:00. This all happens with live ammunition."

"I understand."

"Then, after dinner by 19:00, you’ll continue with kill house drills until 23:30. This schedule repeats until you’re completely comfortable with firearms. Once you're good enough, we’ll assign you a dedicated gunsmith, and then we’ll focus more on kill house drills."

"…Got it."

Eugene’s face stiffened.

Owen smiled faintly, adding:

"Of course, this schedule is pretty intense, especially in a situation like this. We keep getting emergency requests day and night, and kill house and hood box training require at least one observer."

"Are you talking about operators like you, Mr. Owens?"

"It looks like you’ve figured things out."

He closed the sheet of paper and added:

"Don’t get hung up on this. You know as well as I do that real combat teaches more than sitting in the shooting range for a month. These drills will just help you make better decisions and better results in the field."

"…Isn’t that the most important thing in real combat? Should I try harder?"

"Ha, well, some idiots just nod along without realizing the importance of training. You’ve got a good understanding of context and identifying weaknesses."

At that moment, Owen adjusted his view of Eugene. She was already showing promise.

He smiled more warmly than before, saying:

"A soldier who doesn’t notice what’s going on is the worst kind. I hope you follow along well, kid."

"Yes, sir."

"Find what works for you when it comes to knowledge, and make sure it aligns with what Olivia and Lorentina have taught you. Got it?"

"Yes."

"Good. Since the timing is a bit tight, have lunch and then come to the range. Don’t answer, just go."

With that, Eugene nodded and left the room.

Owen didn’t know exactly why she bowed her head, but when she left, he couldn’t help but smile weakly. At least her first impression wasn’t bad. That much was certain.

A few minutes later, Logan barged in.

"Did you do anything to the kid?"

"Go eat, Logan."

"Answer me, you bastard!"

And just like that, Owen was attacked by the grumpy polar bear.

This was the daily routine in Central Park.