I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun

Chapter 710

"…Ugh, shit. Shit…"

"You said there's no danger of dying, you bastard. That was just a freak accident."

"Dammit, that's true. But... damn, my heart’s still shaking."

"Of course the moms would freak out if their daughter got hurt… just kidding, just kidding. So stop looking at me like that with those scary eyes. My heart hurts."

The chaos and cheers mixed together in early June at the Central Park HQ, with a spoonful of anxiety in between.

Team Dagger had returned, Central Park had been attacked, and Eugene had returned to the base after allowing a bullet to hit his stomach in the final moments. The transport plane that Team Dagger rode in still bore the blood from the injury.

It wasn’t a massive loss of blood. But it wasn’t small either. The fact that the bullet didn’t just graze but actually pierced his stomach was enough to classify it as a serious injury.

And Team Dagger, after a long while, was reminded of what it felt like to have their hearts race.

"...Well, if we’re looking for some comfort, at least we now know just how much survival potential this equipment gives an operator."

"Even after falling from 15 meters, being able to crawl back up to the rooftop... it's unbelievable, but... never thought the youngest would have to test it out."

"Especially in a neighborhood full of white phosphorus flames. Ugh, damn. My heart’s pounding ridiculously fast. My heartbeat’s probably over 200 per minute..."

"200? Now that’s impressive."

As expected, the ones reacting the most were naturally the mutated members of Team Dagger.

Especially the three moms who had doted on Eugene. It was no surprise they were startled. Despite their extensive real-world and special forces experience, they had become jaded to most things—yet, this still shook them.

Even though the Icarus Gear allowed them to control their body’s mechanisms and hormones, the female body they had mutated into was inevitably more sensitive in these aspects.

In simpler terms, to reduce those "strange" feelings...

"...This is that maternal instinct... damn it, I can’t even say anything. Fine, don’t hit me."

"It’s not that I can’t, but you’ll have to pay the price for it, won’t you?"

"That's too much. We should hurry and get the youngest back up so we can show him this sight."

"...He’s figured out how to use his image these days. Clever, I tell you…"

Maternal love.

Of course, as soon as the words left their mouths, they were met with angry glares. For special forces members who were obsessed with boasting about their testosterone, the idea of being called feminine was uncomfortable.

In any case, despite that, their voices weren’t particularly loud. The emergency treatment room contained the youngest, and Team Dagger was gathered outside, anxiously waiting for him to come out.

The odds of success were low, though.

"Was it due to accumulated fatigue and blood loss?"

"Yeah. The blood loss was around 600 ml... Mutants have higher blood pressure than regular humans, so if the clotting had taken longer, it could’ve been a serious problem."

"Really? I didn’t think it was bad enough to put him in a coma, but when he suddenly passed out, I was surprised. The mental fatigue was inevitable."

A week-long operation.

It continued without regard for night or day, but that didn’t mean they had been shooting non-stop. The average rest and sleep time was about 4-5 hours a day.

But the irregular sleep patterns, endless firefights, and despite the Icarus Gear’s filtration system, the countless corpses they had to witness, and the torture scenes they had been part of...

For regular people, it wouldn’t be surprising if they developed PTSD. Enduring it for a whole week was impressive, but the truth was, their threshold was lower than that of the senior members of Team Dagger.

As time passed through conversation and speculations, the emergency treatment room door opened.

The first to come out was Chester, the team doctor from Task Force Dagger.

???Creeeak!

"...Huh, no need to make a fuss. His life is not in danger. He won’t even have scars."

"Is he still asleep?"

"Well, yeah. He’s probably been exhausted without realizing it, so let him rest for a day. No need for visitors, and by tomorrow, he should be able to live normally. After two days, he’ll be good for operations again."

"Let’s talk about the operation after the youngest wakes up. We should get some rest too."

The fact that Eugene, the idol of Team Dagger, didn’t have any serious issues.

That alone was enough for the mutants to let out the sighs they had been holding in. And the members of the Eagle Team, as well as Owens, the operation team leader of Team Dagger, all let out chuckles as they watched.

Chester, the team doctor, had a special gear that allowed him to check the physical condition of the team in real time, and he had roughly estimated how much more rest Eugene needed before a full recovery.

16 hours.

It was clear that Team Dagger didn’t need to stay here any longer.

As about ten people walked out of the intensive care room, they saw the chaotic scene of Central Park, something they hadn’t witnessed when they arrived.

It wasn’t long before the support officers shared the situation, which they hadn’t been briefed about—more specifically, because Eugene had been distracted by his gunshot wound, Team Dagger didn’t know about it.

And when they learned about the situation, their expressions twisted awkwardly.

"...What?"

"A cyborg infiltrated, and while we were trying to rescue Dr. Dexter, one of Artemis's researchers, they attacked our forces. Two casualties. What a damn mess."

"Her arm turned into a blade? How is that even possible?"

"We’ll show you the footage from the CCTV."

So, Team Dagger didn’t even return to the debriefing room but instead headed straight to the TOC.

Ten members sat down, and the screen began to play. The CCTV footage, which had been distorted in places, showed an eerie scene: a red burst as something passed through a gate leading to the special detention room.

It was blood.

One person had their head pierced, another completely shattered. And after a while, the silhouette that had been wavering cleared, revealing Dexter’s prison cell being torn apart.

But just at that moment, a figure appeared from the other side—

"...Zodiac?"

"Why is that person there?"

"According to testimony... they followed the smell. They noticed the scent of burning plastic and went in, only to find this situation."

"Really unlucky. Their accident prevention skills are top-notch, but…"

It was extremely unlucky.

And that was, without a doubt, the most accurate judgment.

The sound of the CCTV’s metallic click rang through the air like thunder. However, it wasn’t the sound of a gunshot. Later, they would learn that it was the sound of Valerie, a cyborg, extending her arm and revealing the blade.

A deafening barrage of gunfire echoed down the hallway. Lapland’s gun fired in rapid succession, tearing up the corridor. But despite being hit by a pile of bullets, the cyborg didn’t fall.

Instead, it charged forward.

"...Two casualties, and since Lapland is still alive, there shouldn’t be any other dead people."

"Correct. The problem is the unit... Valerie, right? She was hit by two 40mm grenades and was partially shredded. That’s why restoring communication equipment is quite difficult."

"I don’t think that’s the end of it. Military personnel have been eagerly patrolling the area, and civilian background checks are being conducted?"

"Yes, that's also true. Central Park receives around 10 new civilians every day. I don’t know when they entered, but if there are many more like that hiding, it could be a serious problem."

That was a valid point.

But conversely, at this point, there wasn’t much Team Dagger could do—unless they completely and physically wiped out Artemis and the rioters.

The first task of Icarus’s sharpest blade was to eliminate the enemy as quickly as possible.

Team Dagger exchanged glances. They all shared the same expression and had realized the same truth.

The operation could not be stopped.

"...If Artemis is involved, the damn robot that infiltrated Central Park could show up in front of us during the operation as well. We need more information."

"If you want to contact the Lapland trainee operations officer, go to the Alpha-level mutant dormitory. They should be resting there. Don’t surprise them, they’re in a weakened state."

"Sounds like they got badly hurt. Well, let's check out that fancy mutant dormitory. Does it have a shower?"

"Yeah, it does. But if you touch my stuff, I’ll hit you."

"Well, I’ll be damned, I thought you were going to steal my bra or something. Don’t worry, I won’t."

It was a conversation full of jokes, but the scent of blood and gunpowder they couldn’t hide still lingered.

It was a retreat for now.

But what lay ahead was unknown, even for Team Dagger.

"...Oh, hey, aren't you the operators? I didn’t realize you were back. Should I help you take off your gear?"

"No need to get up, just sit down and talk. After you wake up a bit, we’ll chat. Want some chocolate milk? I brought some leftover rations."

"Oh, if you offer, I’ll gladly accept. Hehe."

As the click sound came from the mutant dorm, Lapland, still groggy, woke up.

Her heart rate spiked for a moment, but thankfully, it wasn’t the terrifying cyborg from her dreams, but the team she had been somewhat admiring—Team Dagger.

As her heartbeat slowed, she was handed a cool liter of chocolate milk, still in the paper carton, cold to the touch.

In what was now a dystopian version of the United States, cold or hot liquids, or even solids, were privileges reserved for the elite.

'...Is this really something for the elite?'

Should she be sad or grateful?

That thought quickly disappeared as the sweet and cold taste slid down her throat. For a moment, Lapland felt like crying, but she lowered her head, not wanting to show it.

It was an emotional instability brought on by being half-awake and the traumatic events she had just experienced hours ago.

Around her, she could still hear the clattering sounds. Team Dagger had finally returned, setting all kinds of random gear on the table.

Guns and equipment had long been taken by the support officers. The dust, carbon residue, and any broken parts would be repaired.

The bulletproof vests were no different. The support officers were probably washing out the armor plates by now.

'They've just been through a massive war.'

Despite not noticing it due to being half asleep, and missing it because of the chocolate milk, the pungent scent of blood, gunpowder, and body odor permeated the air.

However, for some reason, Lapland didn’t mind the lingering traces of it beneath her combat shirt—until, at the moment she became aware of it, she shook her head furiously, as if to banish the thought.

It was a common experience for mutants who had undergone a gender change.

Anyway, separating herself from those thoughts, she started preparing to leave. If Team Dagger was staying here, Lapland needed to step aside.

But there was no rush to leave. The Alpha-level mutant dormitory could easily accommodate more than 20 people. It had both first and second floors.

As far as she remembered, Team Dagger had eleven members, and with herself, it made twelve. That number should’ve been enough to leave without disturbing them—

Hold on a second.

"...Wasn’t there one more person? That..."

In that instant, the mood changed drastically.

Lapland realized she had said something she shouldn’t have, quickly lowering her head, but it wasn’t quite a matter of provoking anger. As evidence, Team Dagger subtly opened their mouths to add.

"...They’re injured and receiving treatment right now. Probably back by tomorrow or the day after."

"...Ah, sorry. I didn’t mean it like that..."

"It’s not serious, don’t worry. But… well, I guess it’s fine to say this now."

At that moment, one of the mutants, Logan, spoke up.

"Have you ever systematically learned about CQB and combat tactics?"

"...Do you really think so?"

"Good."

And with that, a brief silence followed.

How long did it last? Seconds? It didn’t take long for Lapland to realize it wasn’t just a normal question. And the implication was simple—maybe, just maybe. What she thought it meant wasn’t what it actually meant.

And that meant—

"That, um... what’s going on..."

"Strictly speaking, it’s not exactly like you think. We’re not fully trusting you yet. At least, that’s what the others think."

"...Right."

"But not me. I’ve seen what you did through the CCTV footage. It was quite interesting."

Was it really interesting? That thought crossed her mind for a moment, but it didn’t matter much.

It was something embarrassing to talk about, and at this age, in this form, she wondered if she could even do it, but Team Dagger was still the object of her admiration.

She still had the cartridge case they shot in the training field quietly resting in her pocket.

Lapland’s eyes widened, almost as if she had taken an awakening drug, and she swallowed hard, blinking rapidly.

"Sometimes, there’s only one option. Even when you know death is waiting, there are times when you have to go in. And... there are times when you have to throw yourself into death in order to survive."

"…It wasn’t for that dramatic reason, though."

"No, the opposite. It’s more meaningful because it wasn’t that grand. If you hadn’t chased them and just ran away, it would’ve been pretty bad, but... it’s a different story if you brought a gun with you."

No matter the intention, for Team Dagger, it didn’t matter.

They spoke up.

"And like you saw today, you never know when Central Park will be engulfed by war. Given that, learning the art of survival to save yourself and others will be a pretty good choice."

"...Yeah, I guess so."

"Who knows? Once you learn it, maybe someday... someone will make better use of you, or we might. A single task force isn’t enough."

And at that moment.

Team Dagger felt like Lapland’s eyes were gleaming.

They knew she wouldn’t be able to refuse, so Logan smiled and added.

Logan, Olivia, Lorentina, and everyone else was watching her.

"Feeling a little intrigued now?"

Lapland couldn’t refuse.

The feeling of the cartridge case she had carefully kept in her pocket was especially vivid.

She nodded, and everyone there chuckled softly.

The time to cover the terrible memories with the scent of gunpowder was approaching.