I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun-Chapter 707: North Manhattan (8)

"...We're completely fucked. They said they have no intention of negotiating or talking, those crazy bastards!"

"Too many are running away. We’re pulling out. We shouldn't even look towards Mara Salvaturca for a while. These fucking idiots, I told them... don’t touch the civilians..."

"Pulling out? What the hell are you talking about? Because of what those bastards did, we’re all stuck with chains now! Whether it's fast or slow, we're all gonna die here!"

"Shit, then come up with a decent plan! Don’t just flap your gums!"

June, early June, North Bronx, overcast weather, many casualties from gang violence.

It had been three days since the large-scale, precision yet brutal gang purge operation led by the Dagger Team had begun, and the Bronx—if we were to express it politely—had fallen into chaos.

And to put it bluntly, the riotous gangs of the Bronx, now reduced from 15,000 to around 12,000, were frantically stomping their feet, shouting "Auto K" as though the end of the world were coming tomorrow.

In fact, it wasn't entirely incorrect. Especially the fact that the end of the world could indeed come tomorrow. A far more immediate and tangible extinction was slowly creeping up on them.

With physical sound to accompany it.

"[This message is being delivered to all those listening on behalf of the U.S. government.]"

"[The U.S. government has made efforts to minimize chaos and ensure citizen safety, but due to uncontrollable circumstances, this directive has changed.]"

"[For the survival of citizens and the restoration of the nation's basic infrastructure, the U.S. government will physically eradicate all hostile and anti-government forces.]"

"[There will be no further communication.]"

The recorded voice echoed from the sky several times.

Though it had been said repeatedly, when a rat cornered a cat, the expected outcome was inevitable.

In this situation, strictly speaking, it wasn’t exactly a cat bitten by a rat but rather an elephant slightly bitten by an alligator, which, while being beaten badly, was now trampling the alligator indiscriminately and making it bleed to death. But the elephant was already on the brink of death after taking several blows.

The outcome of triggering the top predator at the wrong time is typically what you’d expect.

Two days after the operation began, and three days in total, as the Dagger Team’s blades pierced through the enemy—about 100 to 400 people a day—the reactions of the rioters were divided into two main categories.

One was resistance, and the other was surrender.

The former was typically composed of criminals from overseas, foreign gangs, or mafia, people with no escape routes, while the latter was the choice of those with some level of legitimate standing in the U.S.

And the rioters who didn’t fall into either category chose pure survival. Among them were some who tried to forcefully remove their tattoos, dying from excessive blood loss, shock, or infection.

However, at the end of the day, these were part of a loose mob of 12,000 rioters, and even if they didn’t want it, they were bound to make contact with something when they stirred.

Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately, the place where this stir was sensed was not Central Park.

It was something far more sinister.

"...What the hell is this?"

"As you can see, it’s a little gift. Our side wants you to keep fighting against the U.S. government... We will make you the 'backing' you’ve always wanted."

Within a day or two, heavily armed troops, resembling soldiers molded into the very essence of "suspicion," met with the rioters.

And these weren’t the typical shotguns, rifles, or ordinary weapons you might find in a gun shop. These were advanced firearms, the kind that were clearly meant for U.S. military or beyond.

Ironically, because of that, the rioters understood how significant the "backing" they were being offered might be—but that didn’t mean they’d just gobble it up. It was clearly suspicious.

The gangs only wanted one thing: to take what they could get and avoid any interference. A classic case of extreme rebellion.

Of course, the power balance was never in the rioters' favor, and what awaited them was something entirely unexpected.

One day, two days, three days passed, and hundreds of gang members in the Bronx began "disappearing."

The result soon began to manifest indirectly.

"...The Cleaner reconnaissance team vanished?"

"That's what they say. Looks like they pulled a clever move."

"That's troubling. They’re not the type to just fall into an ambush like that. Even reconnaissance teams usually move in groups of 10 to 20, and they’d be far better armed than the gangs. So, for them to vanish like this..."

"There’s something going on. Let’s check it out."

The Dagger Team began to move.

In less than a week since the operation began, the Dagger Team, the first and strongest of the Icarus forces, had killed over 2,000 people. The result was as expected.

As they tore through the Bronx like rats, the operational scope of the Dagger Team had expanded far beyond what would be expected from a mere squadron. Now, they were heading towards the area previously taken over by the Cleaner forces without any major issues.

In the place full of burnt corpses and the stench of fuel, 11 members of the Dagger Team took over the location where the reconnaissance team had vanished.

Today's destination was a decayed complex with narrow alleyways and low-rise apartments, reminding one of a Brazilian favela.

"...This terrain is horrifically designed. I think I can guess why the reconnaissance team was wiped out here."

"Not anymore. With the Pulse, everything becomes easy."

The Pulse—a power so close to magic that it couldn’t be avoided.

It penetrated walls and detected all forms of higher-dimensional beings in human shape. As soon as the entire building was scanned, the enemy’s numbers and locations began to become clear.

The Pulse, which could detect anything human in form, even detected the bodies of the dead. Soon, the Dagger Team was able to conclude that the Cleaner reconnaissance team had all been killed.

But they weren’t concerned. Their only goal was to crush every enemy they encountered.

They planned to make those who had wiped out the Cleaner reconnaissance team pay with bullets.

"Same as always, split into three teams. Eliminate all visible enemies and recover anything that might give us an idea of what happened here. Got it?"

"Yes, understood."

"Eugene, as always, you’ll accompany Eagle Team."

"Yes."

And so, they entered the building.

A densely packed area with around twenty buildings closely lined together. Unlike the towering skyscrapers of Manhattan, these buildings were all identical.

Yet the Dagger Team moved with such precision, it was as if they knew exactly where the enemy was. They took the shortest route to achieve maximum results. Even if the enemy was behind a wall in another building, it didn’t matter.

However, after engaging in combat for a while, the Dagger Team started to feel an unusual "anomaly."

"...Shark, something feels off about these guys. They don’t seem to feel pain at all."

"Their durability is unnervingly high. Take note of it."

It wasn’t that they couldn’t be killed.

But even though they’d suffered damage severe enough to incapacitate them, they remained unharmed and fought back. Normally, such damage would result in shock death, yet they were still alive and fighting.

At first, the mutated members suspected drugs, but soon realized it wasn’t that either. They showed no expression, and their movements were far too mechanical.

They weren’t under the influence of drugs.

They were something different.

— Thud! Thud! Thud!

"...Still, a shot to the head kills them, but that’s not the point. The weapons they’re using and their movements are different. It’s like... soldiers pretending to be gangsters."

"They’ve got some ridiculous devices on their heads and necks. Looks like it’s controlling their motor cortex and blocking pain. Not sure what it is, but we should confirm with the soldiers in combat."

Even when shot, they didn’t immediately go down.

They were armed with firearms equal to or superior to U.S. military weapons.

Their movements had improved significantly.

What did this mean exactly? No one knew. But the Dagger Team immediately realized something suspicious was unfolding—something they hadn’t anticipated.

But this was just the beginning.

As the fight continued, Loren Tina suddenly caught a strange scent. She immediately recognized where it was coming from and what it was.

The smell of oil and explosives was rising from the basement of a nearby apartment building.

"Shit, everyone get out, go back the way we came—now!"

— Boom!

At that moment, a massive explosion shook the building.

But that wasn’t the end. A huge fire spread at an absurd rate—eventually, they realized it was because of the gas lines running through the complex.

But there was no time to think about that now.

"Support Operator 1, a large number of enemies are heading our way! Dagger Team, get out of there now!"

"...This was one hell of a trap they set up...!"

Almost 500 enemies started charging towards the Dagger Team.

No one was ignorant of the fact that this was an ambush.

The battle to the death had begun.

Central Park – A few kilometers away

Something was happening there as well.

"Doctor Dexter’s presence can’t be detected. We will continue moving."

Timer activated. You must leave Central Park in 20 minutes.

The man swiftly removed his blood-soaked sky-blue jumpsuit and discarded the ID card used to enter Central Park into the trash. At the same time, he snapped his fingers.

As the hologram covering his body disappeared, his form, skeletal structure, and gender changed entirely. It was simple: she—now that she had become a she—had infiltrated Central Park with a special purpose.

To get in, she had killed an external contractor assigned to water quality inspection from HQ and had successfully entered the facility in an instant.

It wasn’t impossible to enter as a refugee, but the procedure would have required mandatory ID registration and a detention period, so she chose this method instead.

She wandered through the internal facilities of Central Park, looking for a place where Dr. Dexter might be.

Once inside, Valerie wasn’t hindered in any way. She casually moved through the heavily guarded areas where numerous soldiers from HQ were stationed and walked around the facility, keeping a low profile.

Before long, she noticed a flickering sensor near a large detention facility close to a restricted zone.

"Timer set. Optical decoys activated. Operational time: 5 minutes... I’ve located Dr. Dexter. I’ll begin the rescue now. Primary objective is extraction, but if it’s impossible to escort him, I’ll remove his head."

That will be sufficient. Proceed with the mission.

"Understood. Valerie out."

Click!

At that moment, her arm twisted unnaturally.

It wasn’t just a twist. Her arm opened. From the gap, a foldable blade emerged, resembling the front legs of a praying mantis.

The blade anchored into the wall like an anchor, and Valerie began climbing the several-meter-high wall with ease. There were no people nearby, but even if there had been, it wouldn’t have mattered, thanks to the optical decoy.

She landed softly with barely a sound, then proceeded to check the location of the entrance before confirming that there was no checkpoint at the main gate of the detention facility.

In other words, it was a free pass to her destination.

Valerie entered the building.

Inside, many people were present, but no one could recognize her. She skillfully maneuvered through the crowd, inching closer to the interior of the facility.

How long had it been? She approached a separate security gate that blocked her path.

"Found a separate gate. Dr. Dexter’s signal is still coming through... I’ll initiate direct combat."

Click!

Her arm twisted again in an eerie fashion, and her forearm opened to reveal the hidden blade, which flashed silver as it plunged into the chin of a soldier sitting at a desk reading a book.

The blade pierced through his chin, cracking the skull, and the soldier collapsed lifelessly onto the floor.

This wasn’t the end. Another soldier guarding the gate met a similar fate soon after.

After disabling the gate completely, Valerie crossed through it silently, unaware that separate iron bars were still in place further down the corridor.

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But it didn’t matter.

Crash!

With a swing of her arm, she tore through the bars, tossed them aside, and moved swiftly toward her target.

And, not long after, she found Dr. Dexter sitting in a room, staring blankly at the ceiling.

With the blade’s tip, Valerie tapped the thick plexiglass wall, then spoke.

"I’ve located Dr. Dexter. I will begin the rescue now."

Crackling noise!

Valerie inserted both arms into the wall at an angle and crossed them in an X-shape. The plasma heat from her arms melted the plexiglass and ripped it apart.

As she did so, Dr. Dexter’s eyes began to regain some life.

He didn’t speak, just quickly began preparing to leave the area.

However, he wasn’t aware of what Valerie was looking at down the corridor.

"What’s happening?"

Valerie, Alpha-class mutant identified within Central Park. Combat engagement will begin now... Cancel that. Neutralizing and capturing this mutant is now equal priority to the rescue of Dr. Dexter.

"...What?"

It didn’t matter how or why a mutant was there.

Artemis was unaware of any other mutants being in Central Park, and Valerie felt her mission’s orders to capture the "mutant" clash with her primary directive: to rescue Dr. Dexter.

The decision was made swiftly.

She first severed the limbs of the wolf-like mutant in front of her, then proceeded to staunch the bleeding, covering the blade with plasma.

As Valerie crossed the hallway at lightning speed, a scream echoed out.

"Shiiiiiiiit!"

Bang!

The scream of Zodiac and the sound of gunfire rang out pitifully.

It was the moment when an unprecedented danger approached Valerie.