I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun

Chapter 704

"Dagger team faces a powerful enemy offensive! Currently engaging in combat at Fire Station 16 in New York!"
"The enemy is confirmed to possess military assault rifles, machine guns, grenade launchers, and various other weapons. Serial number scanning is in progress."
"Who would have thought that the best option to support the fight in such a damn neighborhood would be white phosphorus? This situation… damn it…"
"Captain Edward Parkinson has arrived."

07:05 AM, Central Park Operations Center.

A man in military uniform, with two white bars on his shoulder insignia indicating his rank of captain, walked in, his expression a stark contrast to the usual morning air.
Edward Parkinson, commander of the 107th Military Police Company – and someone very suited to explain the situation Dagger Team was facing today.
His neatly combed hair and solid build were apparent even through his fatigues. However, his fatigued steps indicated little connection to his physical appearance. He immediately sat down at a table in the TOC (Tactical Operations Center), filled with people.

Amid the wall of screens, he looked at the upper Manhattan area, marked in red on the map, next to the Harlem River, confirming the exact location and nature of the combat taking place.
At that moment, he realized why he was here.
With two cups of coffee, a senior operations officer sat down across from him.

"I’m sorry to call you in for this, Captain Parkinson. I have a few questions regarding the ongoing engagement in upper Manhattan."

"I’ve heard plenty about the gangs causing trouble up there. And judging by the screens, the situation isn’t going well. The gangs have military-grade firearms, so it’s no surprise."
"...You already know that, I see. Lucky for us, you’re quick with the talk. As you can see, these bastards are armed with some nasty gear, no idea where they got it from."

The senior operations officer scratched his head and added,
"There's a brigade from the 42nd Support Division just 500 meters away from the area where Dagger Team is operating. And you, Captain, are in charge of the 107th Military Police Company under that brigade."

"Yes, I know. Go ahead and speak freely."

"It’s nothing big. The operations center suspects that the firearms the rioters have were sourced from the armory near the 42nd Support Brigade headquarters. We just need an estimate of how many weapons have been dispersed."

Parkinson nodded as he understood the situation.
It was a foolish question, really. On one hand, it made sense: asking a company commander, based out of Brooklyn, about the number of weapons and ammunition in the brigade’s armory was a strange thing to do.
But on the other hand, the urgency of the situation made such questions necessary. If Colonel Hemlock from the 104th Military Police Battalion and Colonel Bedruck from the brigade were alive, they would have been called first.

He tried desperately to recall pieces of his past. He hadn’t visited the brigade headquarters much, but he had a decent understanding of the command structure and the number of soldiers involved.

"Approximately 100 soldiers. At least 30 rifles have been released. And, for maintaining order and setting up communications, the New York National Guard was first on the scene, so the 101st Signal Battalion, the 187th Communications Company, and the 719th Transport Company were also nearby..."
"...I see. So at least 100 weapons have been released."

"Even if it’s fewer, it’s certainly more. Given the weapons Dagger Team is encountering, it’s likely that the gang has overrun the 42nd Support Brigade’s headquarters completely."
"That makes sense. This information is very helpful."

The senior operations officer quickly relayed the information, and an updated operational map appeared on the screens.

The conversation continued, but unlike before, the information-gathering process became much slower. Unlike Captain Parkinson, whose base of operations was in Brooklyn, what was now needed was information about upper Manhattan, more than 20 km north of Brooklyn.
Parkinson did his best to provide as much information as possible through the military network and shifted his attention to the screen.
The roster of Dagger Team members was listed. Though classified as top secret, everyone at the Central Park TOC, including Captain Parkinson, was familiar with it.

However, what caught his attention about the screen was different from the others.
A member of the 107th Military Police Company, Eugene, had already become an apprentice operator, now responsible for part of Dagger Team's combat capability in upper Manhattan.
All he could think about, remembering how he first met her, was worry.

"...How is the operation progressing?"
"Given the durability and firepower of the Icarus Gear, the engagement is going smoothly. The rioters are being repelled easily..."
"Can I check the progress?"
"Of course, there’s no issue."

The sound of two sets of military boots walking in could be heard faintly. They were loud enough, but drowned out by the many voices and machinery in the TOC.
Captain Parkinson stared intently at the screen, his gaze sharp as though he were pulling data out of the visualized information.
Drawing on the many tactics and strategy theories he studied to rise to the rank of captain, he understood the situation.
And based on that understanding, if he were to describe the operation… even the most optimistic view would call it a deformed mission, relying entirely on the extraordinary firepower of Dagger Team.
It felt like he was steering a lifeboat through a shipwreck named the US government.

But...

"...I heard they captured two nuclear submarines recently."
"That’s right. The Sword Crew in New Haven is likely squeezing the last bits of knowledge from the enemy submarine crew, learning how to operate them."
"Impressive."

He thought for a moment, recalling how everything had changed in just a few months.
The moment he had learned about the presence of mutants in Central Park, he had an inkling of where things were headed, but it still felt strange.
Looking at the screen, something unusual caught his eye.

A matted white hair, reminiscent of dirty fur, and ears resembling those of a wolf. Parkinson naturally scanned the person from head to toe, though he couldn’t get a full view since the figure was sitting.

"...Who is that?"
At that moment, the wolf-like ears twitched, and a tail peeked out from between the chair legs, lazily swishing. The figure was a hybrid of man and wolf, or perhaps a wolf molded into a human form.
Fortunately, he had encountered mutant hybrids before, so he understood the presence of a mutant in the operations team.
The answer came swiftly.

"That’s the apprentice operator. She came from Brooklyn recently. Her current codename is Lapland, though she used to be known as Zodiac."
"...Zodiac? I feel like I’ve heard that somewhere..."
"She used to be a Liker. She continuously exposed the Liker Council’s operational plans to Central Park, feeding escapees with information about traps during suppression operations, earning significant credit."

Parkinson thought about the word "Liker," instinctively reaching for his holster. But the rest of the explanation made him reconsider – maybe a secret agent.
He didn’t know for sure, but Hoffman Vincent, a PMC agent formerly employed by Artemis Technologies, was a good example.
However, if she were truly an agent, why would she still be an apprentice operator? He started to guess she was likely a former escapee turned operator.
Around that time, Lapland turned her head with a nervous expression and met Parkinson’s gaze.

"...Is something wrong?"
He didn’t respond, but the senior operations officer quickly added,
"Cross-checking results indicate she was responsible for setting up the communication system in Brooklyn. According to the testimonies of the civilians who came with her."
"...I see."
"Well then, it’s about time for breakfast, isn’t it? A guy who makes amazing donuts just came in. You can’t skip breakfast, can you? Let’s have a meal."

The natural shift in conversation. Parkinson, not wanting to cause a scene, agreed and stood up, and Lapland, with her mutant sensitivity, felt the simmering anger and hatred directed at her. Her tail and ears drooped in response.
The past couldn’t be changed, and it would always be a shackle, ready to catch her whenever she stumbled.

"...Damn..."

She thought she had come closer, but it still felt far.
She stared at the screen, continuing her work as an operator. The screen's brightness was so intense today that it almost brought her to tears.

"Wait. What is that? Dagger team, north-northeast, 250 meters away... 2.5 meters tall? No way, something’s coming!"

The despair evaporated in mere minutes, and when something unimaginable emerged from the building that had been the 42nd Support Brigade’s headquarters, even Dagger Team was left speechless.
It was the first appearance of the mutant known as "Titan," a male mutant hybrid modeled after a gray bear.

"Lincoln Medical Center, Riverton Square has lost contact. Harlem General Hospital seems to be the next target!"
"Looks like a lot of them got away. I figured that would happen. These damn idiots... no matter how much you tell them to stay inside, they never listen until the bombs are flying overhead."

Meanwhile, a few minutes earlier, at the 42nd Support Brigade military facility, now occupied by the Brotherhood gang.
Gunfire echoed endlessly outside, and the few radios that remained crackled with horrifying reports. This had been going on for hours.

The gang leaders who had gathered at Fordham University for a meeting had experienced a white phosphorus bombing and a rushed emergency dressing, leaving only the headless bodies now running amok.
The situation for the Bloodhood gang wasn't much better.

The sky, once dark with chaos, had cleared, but hundreds of drones still buzzed overhead, blinking as they displayed English messages urging surrender or death.
The gang members, too proud to fear bombing, now found themselves helpless in urban combat against enemies who disregarded the special nature of street battles.
Without a proper chain of command, as soon as heavy fire was unleashed, the gang members scattered like ants, trying to avoid the oncoming death, but slowly and surely, it was closing in on them.

But there was one last option.
Or perhaps, it was unclear even if that could truly be called an option.

'...The bombing has stopped.'

In a way, the Bloodhood gang's right-hand man sensed that, unlike the warnings from the Liker gang in Lower Manhattan, the bombings hadn't been as heavy here.
Realizing that the US military must be running out of resources, he began to descend the stairs, feeling the deepening scent of blood and marijuana as he made his way down.

The sounds of heavy chains rattled in the distance.

—CLANK!

The room, reminiscent of a prison cell, was filled with tension.
The bundles of rebar set up to prevent anyone from leaving bent like candy, and the stench of blood and burning marijuana filled the air.

In that room, a massive figure was present. Every movement of the huge body scraped against the iron, and dark brown fur stirred beneath the thick metal plating that covered the body.
Only a few months ago, this being had been human. But since the end of January, he had become something close to a bear.
At first, he could still communicate, but with the passing seasons, his humanity faded, and now, he could barely hold on to his sanity.
Originally a massive man, once he took on the nickname "Titan," he became uncontrollable without the aid of drugs.

The marijuana scent in the room was a testament to that.

"...I suppose there's no need to hold back now."
The gang's right-hand man, realizing the gang's survival was no longer certain, casually pulled the pin from a grenade he had stolen and tossed it down the hallway.
He had no idea what would happen to him, but he was curious to see what kind of result a steroid-fueled mutant would bring.

With that, he swiftly retreated up the stairs, vanishing.

The explosion reverberated through the facility.

And the next moment, a furious roar erupted.

—KAA-RAAANG!

How much time had passed since that? As the front door was blown open, the Titan—now a mutant hybrid with welded-on metal plating resembling a bear—let out a deafening cry.
With every step, the ground beneath him seemed ready to crumble, his massive quadriceps nearly capable of destroying the earth. His torso and arms were so thick, they resembled ancient trees.
It was impossible to tell if he was human or bear, or perhaps a perfectly crafted hybrid—combined with an overdose of steroids, the result was a terrifying beast.

It didn't take long before he began running toward the area where Dagger Team was eradicating the gang members, his massive form swiftly caught by UAVs.

The response was immediate.

"No way, what the hell is that... shoot! Aim for the head! Sticky bombs!"
"This crazy... is that a bear?!"

Even Dagger Team, who had been exposed to countless horrific sights, couldn't help but be shocked by this one.
But it didn’t end there. As Titan charged, he slammed his arm into a car parked on the street, sending it flying with a single strike.
It didn’t float through the air, but instead, like a skipping stone, it was thrown halfway across the street, scraping along other vehicles before losing speed. By the time it reached Dagger Team, it was traveling at about 50 km/h.

The Icarus Gear granted enough reaction speed to avoid the car, but with so many team members scattered around, each performing different actions, things were about to get complicated.

Right in front of them stood Logan, who noticed Owen’s team leader, just finishing stowing away his combat gear. She gritted her teeth and tensed her body, preparing herself.

And then—

—CRUNCH!

With a horrifying noise, Logan braced herself against the physical force of the car crashing into her.
First, the shield from the Icarus Gear absorbed the impact, and the remaining energy was neutralized by Logan’s mutant strength—though in this process, the asphalt beneath them began to be scraped away.

After a while...

"...This fucking bastard is really asking for it."
Logan stopped the car and shoved the crumpled vehicle aside, muttering curses.
Of course, she too was a bear.

The inevitable battle had begun.