I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun

Chapter 712

Here's the continuation of the translation:

"Th-this isn't it! I didn’t join to see this kind of crap, Aaaagh...!"

"Run! We have to get out of the Bronx! At least we need to get to New Jersey!"

"Please, the boat... Anyone, just give me a boat to cross the Hudson! Please!"

A heavy air of death descended over northern Manhattan.

In just one week, around 15,000 gang members who had gathered in the Bronx—equivalent to a division—were utterly destroyed.

But it wasn't just a simple annihilation. Of those 15,000, at least 3,000 had physically vanished from this world. They were literally dead. This was the result of Team Dagger spending a week devastating the Bronx.

However, this was just the beginning, not the end.

"...The Paradox and Deadlock teams, as well as Beehive, have completely lost communication."

"Those damn Artemis bastards, what the hell are they doing up there...!"

Exactly what was happening wasn’t clear.

But humans, given only limited information, could easily deduce what was going on, especially those who had enriched themselves by exploiting others. In this case, they were especially sensitive to it.

The gangs had literally evaporated. If Team Dagger was the Grim Reaper, Artemis was the Pied Piper, leaving only the bodies behind, while the U.S. government, unlike Artemis, didn’t even leave traces.

It was abduction. Only Artemis knew where the results of that abduction were going.

The important thing, however, wasn’t that.

Neither the U.S. government nor Artemis saw those in the Bronx as human. They were either garbage to be discarded or reserve soldiers to be turned into weapons.

The largest organization, Mara Salvatrucha, had been entirely wiped out, and the Cleaners were already rising. The agents sent by the U.S. government had disappeared, probably after whatever happened, flying off on a transport plane.

"Anyone who stays here is screwed," was the vibe that no one could miss, but that didn’t mean escape was an option.

There was only one thing that could be done.

"Fuck it, I don't know! I'm just going to do what the drones told me to do!"

"Please! I’ll burn all the guns, ammo, and drugs! Just let me live! Aaagh—!"

"Where the hell should I run...?"

Unconditional surrender.

Of course, that didn’t mean they would be accepted. Even if the U.S. government did accept them, the cleaners in the Bronx wouldn’t care whether anyone surrendered. One of them, the Cleaner, wouldn’t care whether someone surrendered or not.

No, it wasn’t even a consideration.

It was the harsh reality closing in.

"We’ve dropped our weapons! We surrender! We’re waiting for the American soldiers!"

"Haha, funny words. We’ll offer the ashes of your fallen comrades to the ones who remained."

"Fucking bastards, you...!"

With no concern for casualties, it was as if the cleaners used the bodies to spring forward in their movement.

The Cleaner never stopped, spraying flames from a flamethrower. The burning wheels of the cart kept rolling toward the gangs, regardless of whether they lay flat or tried to flee. Those who didn’t fear death always paid the price for it.

Either they were crushed under the flaming wheels or, in the dead of night, they were captured by Artemis, their minds erased, turned into human weapons who only followed orders.

But even then.

Amid the screams of gangsters being torn apart in the clash between two factions, there were others who, ignoring the chaos, only focused on the power struggle.

From the south, the Cleaners came. But from the north, more gangs were being deleted.

"We need to reinforce as quickly as possible. We have to keep Icarus' ankle chained down for as long as possible."

"We’re running low on the control kits we brought."

"Then go to HQ and get more, damn it! We’re the ones here!"

Artemis had no choice but to rush, which led to more mishaps.

Once they betrayed their country and sided with Russia and China, and once that became public knowledge, they had no other choices. They needed to stall for time until reinforcements from the mainland could land in America.

The gangs were valuable human resources to slow down Icarus’ advance, but they couldn’t be used without ‘processing.’ However, progress was slow with limited personnel, and necessary supplies were still lacking.

The behavioral control kits attached to their heads were the missing piece.

With the roads destroyed and filled with cars, the only way to transport supplies was by air, and for the moment, Artemis could drop supplies via aircraft without hiding it.

Luckily, the Eastern Air Defense Zone (EADS) had been rendered inoperable long ago, so no one could stop Artemis’s unauthorized flights.

But—

"...Confirmed an unregistered transport plane. Now it’s flying around openly, not even trying to hide. It seems to be following the same flight path every time."

"Just track the drop locations. Once we know exactly where, and when the surface-to-air missiles arrive, we’ll begin the real attack. No need to send Team Dagger against the modified humans who’ve already sacrificed themselves."

When the tail is so long it’s basically visible, it’s impossible not to step on it.

Impatient people inevitably expose themselves first, and Icarus and the Strategic Department analyze it thoroughly. The Dagger is a powerful weapon, but it must always be wielded with purpose.

If the previous attacks were broad strikes as warnings to the gangs, the next step would be a precise strike at the enemy’s jugular from the darkness.

To sever their breath in a single blow.

A reconnaissance drone, floating 20 km above the ground, watched northern New York day and night.

While the gangsters were overwhelmed by the various forms of death coming their way, it was different for the Genovese family in the northwestern part of Manhattan, who were staying well away from both the Cleaners and Artemis.

They had seen the burning gangs, witnessed the members of another faction disappear, and observed the wreckage left by Team Dagger. Being one of the American Mafia factions, the Genovese family naturally sensed the danger.

The north and east were completely blocked, and to the west was the Hudson River.

Unlike the other organizations, who were trapped with no way out, they had one option left: south.

The south, where Central Park lay.

Of course, neither the Genovese family nor Central Park HQ thought they’d lose control of the situation.

"Throw away all the weapons! If we’re caught, we’ll burn to death here! Just get me a white shirt and tie it to a stick!"

The Mafia had witnessed entire divisions of gangs shattered by the U.S. government’s overwhelming force, so they stuck with the choice of surrender, heading south.

"MQ-9 ready for launch, armed with four missiles carrying five cluster bombs capable of burning an area the size of four soccer fields."

"Send in the UAVs, and have them scan from the air to catch everyone hiding weapons. We can’t allow any more southern movement, and Central Park can't handle a sudden influx of a thousand people."

Central Park HQ had received hundreds of tons of white phosphorus bombs from the remaining U.S. Air Force stockpiles, which were considered the most effective for suppressing and ending urban combat.

The hundreds, almost a thousand, of American Mafia members who had started heading south were given their orders to stop within ten minutes, or face the prospect of being burned alive, and the chaos spread quickly.

However, the white phosphorus bombing on Fordham University spread the rumors, and those who loved life more than anything else began to take shelter in nearby buildings.

This was what had happened while Team Dagger was momentarily absent from the Bronx.

"Therefore, the gangs in the Bronx have started to spread out much more thinly and broadly than before. On the other hand, the gangs in the northern Bronx are showing very structured movements."

"They’re not gangs. They’re soldiers in gangster skin. Damn bastards."

"Support officers understand the concerns. While Team Dagger has been resting at HQ, a new operation plan is being prepared, and simultaneous decapitation operations are deemed necessary."

Decapitation operation.

It was easy to understand exactly what that meant.

"To control people with separate devices, you need servers that can process a large amount of data, but there’s nowhere in the Bronx that has that capability. The university might be the only place with similar facilities, but…"

"In this situation, there’s no way to get the servers running. Not only would they be malfunctioning, but they probably haven’t been ventilated properly either. They’re all broken. But somehow, Artemis must have received their servers by air."

"Can’t we just set off an EMP in the Bronx? You know, the non-explosive EMP bombs that turn into magnetic pulses. I remember stopping some crazy people trying to use that in Wall Street for wealth redistribution..."

"...Logan, don’t speak up for now."

Unfortunately, his suggestion was rejected.

The method for making a DIY EMP bomb was simple—detonating a large current circuit. However, making such a circuit wasn’t easy in the current situation.

Specifically, the problem was obtaining materials.

In any case, the discussion continued. The main point was simple. Destroy the servers and, in the process, smash the heads of Artemis’s forces guarding them.

The intelligence needed was the location of the servers and the number of enemy soldiers guarding them. The TOC had already selected several possible locations and checked whether bombing was feasible.

However, bombing wasn’t guaranteed, and if the wrong location was targeted, it could raise Artemis’s alertness.

There was only one answer.

"It’s time to put an end to this shitty situation."

The decapitation operation, or a similar annihilation operation, was about to begin.

It was time to clean up northern Manhattan.