I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun

Chapter 717

"Romeo and Charlie — the code names for the two enemy submarines we captured — have arrived in southern New Jersey. It’s confirmed that they have about a week left before reaching the Virginia Beach Dam Neck Naval Base."

"What’s the enemy’s awareness?"

"As expected by the staff, they haven’t noticed anything at all."

"Of course, they’re idiots."

After the operation in the Bronx, Dagger Team slept deeply at their quarters, but the HQ remained busy.

As the ripple effects of Dagger Team’s operation spread throughout the northeastern United States, more people were needed to handle the aftermath. Military units around the country began working around the clock to manage the situation.

After all the necessary supplies and bombs were used for the mission, people had to restock and prepare for the next operation, and there were those tasked with analyzing the results achieved from the success of the mission.

Among the outcomes that needed to be handled most urgently were the two submarines crossing the waters off New Jersey.

"I’ve never waited for a week like this before. With what we’ve uncovered so far, it’s all falling apart. I can’t even guess what kind of story will come out when Cyber Command starts its analysis."

"They’re already itching to get started. The dusty submarine docks are shining like new. They’re probably thinking of tearing them apart as soon as they arrive."

"I’d do the same."

It had only been a little over a week since the capture, but many things had already been uncovered.

Although the details might differ, the basic framework of the submarines was similar, and the Sword crew quickly got the hang of operating them, aided by the cooperation of the enemy submarine crew.

Of course, they had no choice. Bombs had been planted inside them. It was harsh, but no one cared about that. After all, the enemy had set foot on American soil without a declaration of war.

And these submarines were loaded with 500kt nuclear warheads, 8 and 12 of them on medium-range and intercontinental ballistic missiles, respectively.

A series of interrogation-style questions, generous use of confession drugs, and the desperate crew members provided the immediate and critical information the United States needed in exchange for sparing their lives.

The location of the submarine base they departed from, detailed internal information, the launch codes for the nuclear missiles, the location of surviving underwater cables, enemy communication networks, military satellite trajectories, and how to access them — all of it was provided.

And that wasn’t all. The most important answers — such as what damage Russia and China had already sustained, the political situation in East Asia, and what operations they planned to undertake — were also largely revealed.

"Western and northeastern U.S. is about to be flooded with airborne troops. Such grand dreams, huh? Do they think this is some Call of Duty game?"

"If Dagger Team hadn’t captured those submarines, that might have actually happened. Anyway... quite an achievement. Now, the real challenge will be setting up enough air defense in the northeast to stop the airborne troops."

"Somehow, we’ll have to make it work. Within three months. At least it’s a relief that the Russian-Chinese coalition won’t be dropping nuclear bombs on our coastline, though that’s not guaranteed. They’re the kind of people who are planning to start a war in these chaotic times."

A large-scale airborne operation.

The reason for the airborne operation, not a landing, was simple. After analyzing the Russian-Chinese coalition’s communication network, it was clear that the enemy had lost most of their naval power in the Pacific.

Meanwhile, the U.S. Navy’s 7th and 3rd Fleets had been decimated, most underwater cables had been destroyed, and satellite data reception was nearly impossible.

Moreover, the Russians and Chinese knew well that dropping nuclear bombs on landing zones would result in the destruction of their own forces, as they had been operating in enemy territory for an extended period.

Analysts, trying to push away their grim thoughts, sought solace.

At least, there were twenty available nuclear missiles. Furthermore, considering that the missiles in the silos were all MIRVs — missiles with multiple warheads — it was as if there were 200 nuclear missiles lying in wait.

Of course, using them would inevitably lead to full-scale nuclear war, and the probability of actually using them was slim. However, these nuclear missiles held deterrence power far beyond their numbers.

The reason was simple.

The submarines knew the exact locations of missile silos in various countries.

"These guys really have silos strategically planted all over Russia. If USASMDC (U.S. Army Space and Missile Defense Command) were still functional, we could have tried a preemptive strike."

"There’s not much left to operate the ballistic missile defense system. We might have a few Icarus suits around... but Redstone Arsenal’s entire stock of missile interceptors has been used up."

"The company that develops these missiles... Raytheon? Massachusetts? Well, that’s close. Looking at the situation, I’m guessing Central Park will oversee this. We might need to bring in factories from here soon."

"If Dagger Team hears this, the chief analyst is going to be in trouble."

"Dammit, say I never said a word, okay? Got it?"

"Buy me a pack of cigarettes, then."

The chief analyst nodded heavily, and the subordinate chuckled.

Indeed, if Dagger Team had heard it, they would probably be furious that yet another task had arisen. It was a sad but unavoidable reality.

But unspoken, there were other matters that were rapidly approaching.

The Bronx was in shambles, but it wasn’t clear whether it had been fully cleaned up, and they still needed to confirm how far Artemis's influence had spread. Considering her headquarters was in northern New York, this was especially crucial.

That wasn’t all. While the situation in Manhattan had stabilized, it still needed railroad repairs, and repairs would inevitably lead to an expanded operational radius.

In contrast to the slowly stabilizing Manhattan, Philadelphia had been torn to pieces, and Washington D.C. had descended into utter chaos.

The capital, in particular, had been almost destroyed. Rumors suggested that at least fifteen factions were roaming the capital.

As always, there was only one choice.

"Everyone agrees that forming more task forces is urgent, but considering some of the initial personnel have already deserted HQ... I’m not feeling great about this."

"Wouldn’t that mean Dagger Team would get stuck with it? I think they’d be pretty angry."

"Of course. But..."

The truth was, no one trusted anyone but Dagger Team.

It wasn’t just the apocalypse caused by the Omega virus that led to this lack of trust; the objective facts were clear.

The Icarus gear wasn’t a toy to be handed to just anyone. If someone wearing it turned traitor, it would likely lead to an irreversible disaster.

"But we can’t avoid creating a task force outside of Dagger Team."

"Then... we’ll need to prepare ahead of time."

He waved his finger and unfolded a request proposal set to be submitted.

The subordinate blinked and frowned as he checked the details. The proposal was simple: the use of execution squads. Not to arrest deserters, but for execution.

The words on the screen swirled in a robotic manner. Normally, such a request would never be allowed. But under these circumstances, it might be necessary, given the state of war.

Subordinates and analysts alike considered the grim reality, and the request was likely to be approved soon.

With a sigh, he nodded, not showing any expression.

The sun had begun to rise, and the sky was gradually turning blue.

The major hurdles had been cleared, but there was still much to be done. Every time one task was completed, another emerged. Rebuilding a shattered America seemed far from certain.

Given the irregular work hours and the constant mental pressure on the analysts and operators, the HQ was thick with the smell of stale cigarettes.

"Rapland’s probably going to complain about the smell in the room again."

"It’s that time, isn’t it? By the way, I heard Dagger Team’s been complaining that their laundry keeps going missing..."

The subject naturally shifted to Rapland.

Until now, she hadn’t been taken seriously due to her past as an escapee, but after neutralizing Valerie, she was finally starting to gain respect.

As a result, Rapland’s appearance and preferences were now being subtly considered. She looked, unmistakably, like a wolf in human form, and, of course, her nose was extremely sensitive.

But given the dire situation, the unpleasant smells in HQ were inevitable.

Looking at the cigarette on his finger, the subordinate analyst spoke.

"Damn it. I can’t quit smoking."

"Who can, right?"

Of course, it was a sad reality.

Central Park was eerily quiet.

"I’m sorry. I thought someone took it, mixing it with the others."

"No, seriously, why would I take a combat uniform full of blood and gunpowder smells!?"

"Sorry, sorry. Want some chocolate milk I brought from the mess?"

"...I’ll take it."

Some time later.

Rapland slowly started to bond with Dagger Team. Or maybe she was just being tamed.

Of course, there was no turning back.

"Isn’t this place too nice?"

"Well, with over 20 people, a spacious area could be too much for four. Anyway, congratulations on moving here. Of course, if you mess around, you’ll go back to your old place."

"Why start with curses right after I arrive?"

"Come on, calm down. You’ll get your fur all over the place."

By early June, at Central Park HQ, Alpha-class mutant dormitory.

After the operation in the Bronx ended, a day later, Central Park was eerily quiet.

The faint smell of gunpowder still lingered in the air. It was the residue left by the three ballistic missiles that had destroyed the Bronx just a day before. Even from the skyscrapers surrounding Central Park, the smoke rising into the sky could still be seen.

The fires caused by the missile impacts were still burning, and the phosphorus grenades and thermite rounds Photon 1 had dropped before the missile strikes had caused their own fires.

The world was quiet, but the air was suffocating.

Fortunately, when Rapland arrived at the Alpha-class mutant dormitory, fully equipped with air purifiers, it was the first time she felt a sense of freshness since arriving at HQ.

Of course, it wasn’t completely free of human scents. But one thing was clear: this place smelled much better than the TOC.

It was... refreshing.

"...Ugh."

"Why is your face red again?"

"Just leave it. Probably thinking weird thoughts."

"Go unpack, rookie. Don’t imagine anything strange in front of the seniors."

Rapland finally realized her tail was wagging excitedly and, with a flushed face, picked the most comfortable spot to unpack. Since she didn’t have much luggage, it didn’t take long to organize.

She sighed and sat on the bed. The bed was incredibly soft. As she checked the luxury hotel name embroidered on the bed linens and pillows near Central Park, she felt a strange twinge of jealousy.

But that thought quickly disappeared.

For a simple reason.

There, beside the bed, was the gun cabinet.

"...Why... is there a gun here...?"

"It’s the stuff you take when you’re on emergency duty. If you end up doing the same job as us, you’ll get your own gun cabinet here too. You’ll need to get used to it."

"I’m just a trainee operations officer, not an operator."

"Right, right. I know."

Wrong. Even though she had felt this yesterday, Rapland could tell they weren’t listening at all.

She looked around absently. She had never been in the military, but she wondered if this was what it was like. Serving under senior officers, like they were in the military.

As a trainee operations officer, she had seen the ranks and backgrounds of the people here. None of them were below sergeant. All were either two or three stars or above, or warrant officers.

Not only that. They had proven themselves through numerous real-world operations and training, and to get here, they had invested tens of millions of dollars.

Except for one person.

'...But how could that one person keep up with Dagger Team’s pace?'

She heard they had served in the military before. Was that the reason? The world was beyond Rapland’s understanding, and she wasn’t sure if she could keep up.

But whether she knew it or not, the cold chocolate milk, whether from corrosion or something else, slipped down her throat easily. The sweet aroma filled her senses, and a wave of happiness overcame her.

And everyone watched with quiet approval.

"...So, that’s why everyone gave me snacks?"

"You’re just realizing that? Slow, rookie."

"...Is this really how it is around here?"

"Someone’s got to find joy in all this. You thought Dagger Team would be strict and serious after the mission? We’re not robots."

"By the way, who’s keeping the cyborg head Logan brought? Is it under analysis?"

"He brought a head!? What kind of head?"

This was strange. Was this really the atmosphere?

She remembered Dagger Team as a group of people who would snap the legs of hell’s king and come back after being thrown into hell. But now, they were just... odd, in many ways.

As Rapland’s idealized image of them crumbled, they continued chatting casually.

"At least the guy who got hit with two grenades is in one piece. We’ll have something to analyze now."

"Speaking of which, that guy was using a plasma blade. If we got a proper sample, we could analyze it and maybe create a decent close-combat weapon."

"We’ll run into more cyborgs, so let’s aim for next time. Next time, we’ll grab a leg or an arm."

"What kind of conversation is this!?"

"Average Dagger Team. Get used to it."

What kind of average is that?

Rapland thought, but the reality was, their conversation was unrelentingly serious. They would indeed be studying cyborg arms and legs, analyzing plasma blades or whatever else they found.

Rapland’s mind was spinning.

Her adjustment period to Dagger Team had just begun.