I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun

Chapter 696

???Thump! Thump! Clang!

"Ugh...!"

"Die!"

Clink!

Inside the newly constructed training facility, designed to simulate the battlefield where life and death intersect as realistically as possible, live ammunition and fear-inducing blanks were discharged, and metal casings flew through the air. Suddenly, the firearm malfunctioned. When a defective cartridge jammed in the chamber, Eugene instinctively released his grip on the rifle.

He drew his pistol, which was lodged in the center of his bulletproof vest, not his thigh, and aimed it. To his right, an enemy was pointing a pistol at him, and at the center of his view, Logan, who was playing the role of the terrorist, appeared.

In the arms of the polar bear, Owens, who was playing the role of a civilian, was currently being threatened with a knife.

Eugene, in that instant, aimed his pistol not at the one pointing a gun at him, but at Logan.

Complicated, unexplainable events were happening simultaneously.

As Eugene shifted the Icarus Gear's shield and aimed at Logan, he shot once at Logan’s elbow and once at his head, all while blocking a bullet that flew from his right. At the same time, Logan’s arm, which had been wrapped around Owens’ neck, was hit by the bullet and swung outward, releasing its grip. The next moment, as the pistol round hit the shield, Eugene shot the last remaining enemy soldier.

With two enemies down, a beeping sound echoed from the ceiling.

The temporary "Scenario 1" was deactivated, and Eugene let out a heavy sigh. As he did, the two fallen enemies rose to their feet. At that moment, a thick bead of sweat ran down Eugene's forehead.

Logan, still feeling the sting from the Icarus Gear’s injury simulation, rubbed his elbow and added.

"Good job. If you hit the elbow precisely, you can damage the elbow muscles and the C7 and C8 nerves. The elbow muscles will prevent the arm from straightening, and those two nerves will disable the ring and little fingers. So when the terrorist lifts his elbow, you can effectively neutralize him."

"Heh."

"Not shooting the enemy who was pointing a gun at you from the right first is an action that would’ve been considered a mistake according to current manuals... but not anymore. Icarus Operators don’t die from one or two bullets."

"If I hadn’t changed the shield to an external type, I would’ve heard something about that too, but I didn’t forget, did I?"

"One improvement point would be to make quicker decisions. There are cases like Dr. Zodiac where criminals become mutants, and you should always consider the possibility that such mutants could take civilians hostage."

Eugene nodded.

Everyone around seemed to have something to say, but they were holding it back. With the combination of mutant physiology and Icarus Gear, Eugene was consistently performing well in CQB training, where the goal was to make the best decision in the shortest amount of time.

If anything was certain, it was that, based on traditional standards, Eugene would never have been eliminated from a group of Tier 1 operators.

Meanwhile, other operators in the training area and support officers were engaged in conversations and discussions. Everyone in the room could sense it—this training result, and all the engagements in future operations, would become part of a new manual that would have to be written.

The overwhelming convenience and survivability provided by the Icarus Gear.

What it meant was simple. First, the form of combat in future battles would change completely, and second, all future battles would be impossible to handle without that level of convenience and survivability.

"…Whew. That was tough. Everyone, drink some water and start getting ready. It’s almost time to go on the mission."

"The youngest looks exhausted. Should we give him a stimulant or something?"

"Just toss him a snack. Stop trying to turn the kid into a drug addict. Don’t feed him anything strange. Mutants have a higher metabolism, so if they don’t take at least twice the regular dosage, it doesn’t do anything."

As the support officers blinked, eager to learn more, Eugene wiped the sweat from his face and sat down. This was probably the umpteenth simulation.

It was 11:30 PM. Or 2330 hours. The 1.5-hour training session was sharpening their senses for the upcoming New Haven assault mission in just two hours.

Every operator present had adjusted their sleep rhythms using the Icarus Gear for this operation and had woken up just 3 hours ago, fully prepared and mentally sharp.

As Eugene chewed on a snack, a person carrying an enormous load of gear entered through the training room entrance.

Various supplies, explosives, and ammo cans. It looked like at least 150 kg worth of equipment. Naturally, no one other than a mutant could carry such a load at this point.

This was a former Liker, an Alpha-level mutant with the codename Zodiac, now going by the name Lapland.

The conversation continued.

"Ha, they’re prepping upstairs, Operator-nim... You sure are carrying a lot."

"I thought we’d do it in the hangar, but are we prepping here? The higher-ups are really getting antsy. The training’s over, youngest. Everyone grab your rifles, and since the youngest is already ready, start loading here."

"Yes."

"Zodiac, after you check the ammo boxes, separate them and load them into those mags over there."

"Yes, yes. I’ll do that."

With a clatter, she set the ammo boxes on the floor.

Currently, the task force operators were using several types of firearms, but the one being used right now was the special model XM7 using 6.8mm Fury cartridges, along with the Geisley MRGG (Mid-Range Gas Gun) designated marksman rifle for mid-range engagements.

The unique one among them was the AMC-F (Advanced Modular Carbine - Fury) variant of the XM7, which had only 11 units produced. This model addressed all the flaws of the original firearm.

Advanced materials and special metals, not commonly found even in the US, were used in its construction. Together, the barrel and chamber could withstand pressures akin to those of a tank cannon, and the excessive recoil from the high-pressure rounds was offset by the weapon’s weight.

However, the drawback to all of this was simple.

"The significant increase in physical abilities is great, but doesn’t it seem strange to balance that out with the increased weapon weight and more rounds per load?"

"You should be thankful that carrying a 5 kg hunk of metal doesn’t feel heavy after running around for five hours, you idiot."

"Yeah, but still..."

As mentioned, the increased weapon weight was a minor issue for Icarus Operators. The Icarus Gear’s many advantages were far greater than that minor inconvenience.

The weight of the XM250 machine gun and its equivalent carbine was a joke to them. If they got hit by a round from that "funny" gun, no one would be laughing.

Zodiac opened a box of .277 Fury ammo and began loading it into the fast reloader on one side of the training room. Eugene, much like getting water from a dispenser, slid an empty magazine into place.

With a slight sound, rounds began filling the magazine, and it was repeated 16 times. Half went into the front pouches, while the rest were secured in the multi-purpose pouches on either thigh.

Meanwhile, others brought one or two rifles each. Lorentina, however, had brought an MP7 and five magazines.

Unfortunately, there was no slot in the loader for the 4.6x30mm rounds, and Lorentina grumbled as she opened the ammo box, carefully loading the rounds into each magazine.

"Dammit, I didn’t realize the new loader wouldn’t support the 4.6mm... Zodiac, can you come and help load these?"

"…Yes, yes. Is this how it’s done?"

"Good job."

Click-clack, ka-ka-ka.

The rounds from the cartridges were separated and loaded into magazines, and one by one, fully loaded magazines were placed on the table.

Operators placed grenades, flashbangs, and extra batteries for firearms accessories into their multi-purpose pouches or other empty spaces.

Next came large emergency caloric supplements, chocolate bars containing 2000 kcal each, and plenty of water purification tablets and sports drinks in Camelbaks.

The reason for this odd form of packing wasn’t anything complicated.

It wasn’t a short, 15-minute assault mission, nor a long, week-long reconnaissance mission. It was a nighttime annihilation operation, which could last anywhere from 3 hours to 24, but still not quite the length of a typical long-term operation.

"You all know the operation team composition, right? The youngest will join Olivia’s Eagle Team and handle Southern Connecticut State University."

"Lorentina and EX Squadron will head south of New Haven. They’ll infiltrate the two submarines docking at New Haven Harbor, eliminate the crew, and seize the enemy subs... If it’s not all wrapped up by then, we’ll help clean up New Haven. If there’s an SLBM (Submarine-Launched Ballistic Missile) without a nuclear payload, that is."

"Olivia and the youngest don’t need to worry. If this crazy polar bear tries anything, I’ll knock his head off with the buttstock."

"...Don’t hit me with the buttstock, even if I do nothing."

"I wasn’t planning to, but aren’t you guys making me sound like a madman?"

Of course, the fact that she was making herself sound like a madwoman was something only Lorentina didn’t realize.

By now, preparations were nearly complete, and the team leaders who had finished their prep were checking the reconnaissance data sent by the RQ-180 based on the location trackers attached to supplies scattered around New Haven.

As expected, the Russian and Chinese divisions were enjoying New Haven from their key locations. The sheer number of them, along with the large numbers of civilians being conscripted, made it nearly impossible for even Icarus northeastern unit leaders to intervene.

But in about 3 hours, that would change.

With all 11 operators fully prepped for the assault, including one reserve operator who was the youngest, they exited the training room.

Support officers had already headed for the HQ control room to provide backup, and only the lost Zodiac remained, staring at the scene while hearing the helicopter blades outside.

After picking up the empty duffel bags, Zodiac sighed softly and mumbled:

"If I’d known, I would’ve stayed home and lived quietly instead of all this crap."

If only she had been part of that group.

Of course, it was too late for regret, and she picked up a spent training cartridge from the floor, slipping it into her pocket before leaving the training room with a lonely look on her back.

"Where are you going, Team Leader? The world’s gone to hell, you should live comfortably."

"Where are the bandits?"

"They’re probably downstairs. We’ll take a quick look before heading down."

"Do as you like."

12:30 AM, New Haven. Southern Connecticut State University.

In the gym called Moore Fieldhouse, near the power control room that supplied electricity to most of the university’s facilities, and a small lounge attached next to it.

Hoffman Vinson, who had been checking the facilities around, headed toward the PMC team he led under Artemis, and when he opened the door, the strange smell immediately made his eyes twitch.

There were drugs on the table, and a scene unfolding of decadence. It wasn’t something rare, but it wasn’t uncommon either. Hoffman glanced briefly at the civilian riding on top of his subordinate.

‘…They’ve lost it.’

The method of stripping someone of their sanity with drugs was always effective. It was an annoying sight Hoffman had seen many times in countries ending in -stan.

Of course, the subordinate wasn’t in his right mind either. Anyone could enjoy drugs. If it was the last thing they enjoyed in life, it wouldn’t be the worst thing.

And to prove that no one was thinking clearly, the subordinates in the lounge, about seven in total, didn’t even notice the blood splattered all over Hoffman’s gear and clothing.

His sharp eyes scanned the room.

The civilians-slaves in the room, three in total. He didn’t focus on their limp bodies but instead examined their arms, shoulders, and the drug traces on their noses. Pupillary reflex, breathing rate, and other physical signs.

Unfortunately, they had already crossed the point of no return. The entire neural system was so damaged that even if they were revived, they wouldn’t live a normal life.

He casually pulled out a small canister, set it down on the floor, and slowly donned his gas mask, pressing it with his foot to crush it.

With a soft hiss, an odorless, colorless gas began to fill the room, but no one paid attention. It was a quick and natural movement.

As everyone’s breathing slowed, he silently withdrew a pistol from his holster, leaving behind the three drugged civilians who were collapsing to the floor.

It didn’t take long for the heads of the PMC subordinates, who could never truly be called subordinates, to be punctured.

???Peeing! Peeing! Peeing!

One, two, three.

One by one, like dolls with their strings cut, those who had slumped into chairs or sofas, meeting their end, were left behind.

He placed patches on the clavicles of the civilians.

It was a comfort patch laced with pentanyl, five times the lethal dose. And with the heavy dose of sleeping gas, the civilians would die comfortably without feeling any pain.

...Not that they knew any better. Hoffman had never died before.

After carefully laying the three civilians down, he pulled three body bags from his backpack. They had been kept in the university’s medical department for practice purposes.

At least, he hoped their death wasn’t painful. He prayed to God, who might or might not be watching, and exited the building.

One, two, three. He erased Artemis’s traces from New Haven, one by one. The only thing left to do was, when he returned home after a long time, at least bring back a gift.

Of course, today, he had quite a few gifts.

He leisurely stepped outside, activated his IR strobe, and simultaneously squeezed the detonator in his pocket.

A small explosion occurred.

In the darkness.

???Sizzling!

All the lights in Southern Connecticut State University, which had barely been lit, went out at once.

Of course, that wasn’t the end. The crew and divisional personnel stationed here likely wouldn’t care much, but those in charge of communication must have noticed that the emergency connection with the submarines was down.

But it was too late.

He inhaled deeply the unusually clear air of New Haven, and at that moment, he felt a faint presence in front of him.

Hoffman spoke.

"Cut the unnecessary codewords. Welcome to New Haven. I’m Hoffman Vinson, an ISA undercover agent. The generator’s down, and so is the comm tower. What happens here today will never be revealed."

"It’s Olivia. I’m from the 24th Special Tactics Battalion. I’ve heard there are a number of civilians addicted to drugs in the facility."

"That part will be taken over by Icarus New Haven branch after the mission, so no need to worry. Just a quick note. We only need to eliminate the two individuals on the 3rd and 4th floors."

"Commander Andrei Borodin and Senior Researcher Dexter Northmore. I have the locations. If we capture them and bring them to Central Park, we should get good results, but I’ll leave that to you."

She left it to him.

For a Tier 1 operator to say that... meant they were here with a mission that was even greater than that. Hoffman, deducing this, asked.

"Where’s the escape point?"

"We’ll let you know after we secure those two. Right now, our top priority is to confirm whether Commander Andrei Borodin holds the nuclear missile launch keycard. Once we have that information, we’ll send it to the strike teams around New Haven."

"Nuclear missile launch keycard... Could it really be?"

"You have an inkling, don’t you? That’s exactly it."

At that moment, Olivia smiled clearly.

It was a chilling smile.

"Shouldn’t we turn all those crew members, who were just indulging in pleasure while leaving their posts, into homeless people?"

The world’s first nuclear submarine extraction operation — with not just one, but two!

For a moment, Hoffman felt that what had seemed impossible was likely to succeed cleanly.

The first official operation of Task Force Dagger was about to begin.