I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun

"Damn, they’ve scattered so much. Don’t these bastards know basic tactics? Didn’t we tell them to gather at the Cambridge Public Library within 20 minutes after landing?"

"Please bear with us, Colonel Borsuk. It was unavoidable given that only the less experienced soldiers participated in the operation. We must take into account that this is their first airborne operation on foreign soil."

"Don’t make excuses. The 173rd Reconnaissance Regiment and the 137th Airborne Regiment haven’t reported in. Do you know what the 731st Communications Regiment transmitted three minutes ago? They said half of the ten BMD-4M vehicles scheduled for deployment need towing!"

"We’ll quickly gather all the power we can within the current connection."

"Of course, you better do that. If you want to feel firsthand how short my patience is, I suggest you do it fast."

Around 3 AM, east of Boston in Cambridge.

More than a thousand Russian airborne soldiers were falling from the sky in disarray. Unsurprisingly, none of them held American passports.

And, unsurprisingly, it didn’t go well. Despite multiple rehearsals, you never know what’s going to happen in real combat. With no proper training, only minimal education had been provided to the airborne troops before they were sent to Boston.

The result was this horrific mess.

The mid-level officers, unaware of the true situation, thought this was just part of the "purge" and simply saw it as another aspect of bureaucratic mismanagement.

Of course, even if this wasn’t a purge, the situation wasn’t much different. After only basic theoretical training, they were sent to carry out their first airborne mission in a foreign country. What did they expect to happen?

To make matters worse, the night-time airborne operation wasn’t even being conducted in an area with open ground for a proper landing, but rather in a city full of buildings, like chocolate chips scattered across a cookie.

In a situation that only increased the difficulty of the operation, a lack of skill led to the predictable result.

"...The 173rd Reconnaissance Regiment has engaged. Two seriously injured and one dead due to difficulties with terrain obstacles during the drop. The 137th Airborne Regiment reported that one of the BMD-4M vehicles was severely damaged, and all three crew members inside are dead..."

"These fucking idiots, what the hell were they doing before the operation even started!?"

Crash!

The temporary command center's phone made a loud noise as it slammed onto the floor and broke, while the staff tried their best to ignore Colonel Borsuk's fury, focusing on reporting the critical information they needed to confirm.

The reason for his anger was manyfold. The main reason, of course, was the blunders made by the airborne division that had only been causing trouble since the operation began. But there was another reason.

He couldn’t shake the feeling that the Chinese Paratrooper Corps, particularly the elite Thunderstrike Special Forces, might be watching from another location, seeing the disastrous situation unfold.

"How is this mess going to look to the Allied Military Command later on? We haven’t even officially begun the operation, and this is the result! If this keeps up, everyone will know what will happen during the major counteroffensive in September, even dogs walking by!"@@novelbin@@

"Please calm down, Colonel. Once the operation’s over, we can hold the brigade commanders accountable."

"Unbelievable. It’s not even a full brigade, it’s just a brigade’s name tag slapped on, and we sent them as a vanguard, but the actual force is no more than a battalion. What the hell was General Alexei expecting?"

The familiar anti-American slogan.

Two countries, openly anti-American, had joined forces for this very purpose, but this hardly meant they were allies. It was obvious. Unlike Russia, which had lost much of its former glory, China was a power in its own right.

The wounded pride of a beast is often more dangerous. For that reason, Russia didn’t want to be underestimated by China, and this sentiment was shared by most of the Russian military.

However, of course, it wasn’t easy. Colonel Borsuk felt as if the mocking laughter of foreign generals echoed in his ears. It was a situation difficult to accept both as a soldier and as a Russian.

Despite the rising volume of his voice, the moment he gave the orders, his subordinates moved swiftly.

As the information started to accumulate and the data on where the airborne troops had landed was plotted on the map, the broader picture began to form. As expected, it wasn’t optimistic.

What was certain was that the airborne forces had spread out much wider than expected, making it even harder to regroup the forces.

And then—

"...Why is there no report from the 173rd Reconnaissance Regiment? Didn’t we order them to establish a foothold near Harvard University? The enemy's landing zone is nearby. It should have been reported by now."

"We’re looking into it. The reconnaissance drone is up, gathering information."

"No need for pointless speculations. I’ll handle this myself. I’ll give you three minutes."

A sharp warning.

Yet, the conversation continued.

"Why don’t they realize that the enemy can turn Boston to ashes just like we did? I’m the only one in a hurry here, am I?"

"We’ll try our best."

How much time had passed? The speaker, synchronized with the communication system, continued to ring.

The flustered reconnaissance commander quickly continued his briefing, and finally, Colonel Borsuk’s anger began to subside. It was because the commander had started delivering the analysis data regarding the transport plane that had crashed near Harvard University.

It didn’t take long for further orders to come. Colonel Borsuk knew who had arrived here. The Icarus Operators. The best operators in the world, holding powers that could only be described as science itself.

If not now, he might never get the chance. With that thought, he immediately issued a search order.

Logically, no matter how advanced the technology, traces left behind while moving could never be completely erased.

Although it was night and it would have been impossible to track every single step, Colonel Borsuk didn’t expect to follow footprints or anything like that. But the Russian airborne forces weren’t without thermal or infrared sensors.

Additionally, there were no clouds in the sky tonight, and the moonlight was bright. It was impossible to move without leaving a trace in the shadows, and if around ten men moved at the same time, they would inevitably be detected.

That’s what he thought. It seemed like the reasonable conclusion.

But there was one difference.

The enemy the Russian airborne forces were facing was far from ordinary.

—Click!

"…What’s this?"

"It seems we’ve temporarily lost contact with the 173rd Reconnaissance Regiment. The communication device seems to have malfunctioned. We’ll reconnect."

"No need for that. The orders have been given, and the commander is aware of them, so they’ll move quickly from here on out. I went to the frontlines myself, so I won’t tolerate this from my subordinates."

"We’ll contact the other airborne regiments."

"The BMD-4M from the 137th Airborne Regiment was flipped over, right? Send a few tow trucks. The longer we delay, the worse the situation will get."

The communication cut off abruptly.

However, Colonel Borsuk didn’t think much of it. It had been connected once, and a warning had been issued. If they didn’t follow the orders properly, he’d deal with them later.

At least, he thought, he didn’t need to interfere with the small details, and if it were any other day, that might have been the correct approach.

But the enemy was the Dagger team.

Beyond the broken communication, the command center had no idea what bloodbath was unfolding.

• "We can’t get a connection! The internal circuits are completely fried!"

• "Damn, damn it! What the hell is going on… Aaah!"

• "There’s a demon, a demon! We’re being slaughtered by invisible enemies, aaah…!"

• "Well, this is a fun night, isn’t it, everyone? I hope this last American visit is enjoyable for you… though, even if it isn’t, there’s nothing you can do about it."

Flickering shadows were slaughtering everyone in the temporarily established command center.

As if bullets were a waste, the air shimmered faintly, and when a blurry blade embedded itself into the back of a neck, a human body fell to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut.

That wasn’t the end, though. Suddenly, some had their limbs, arms, or heads chopped off completely. The sight was something that could only be described as out of a horrific horror movie.

But the assault on the 173rd Reconnaissance Regiment, which had taken position at Harvard University, wasn’t being carried out by demons, nightmares, or ghosts.

With a sizzling sound, two figures with milk-white hair, drenched in blood, appeared out of nowhere in mid-air, holding tactical tomahawks or daggers, dripping with blood.

One had a sharp expression, while the other wore a distinct smile.

As soon as the two figures disappeared from view, the same process was repeated.

How much time passed?

In the now quiet interior of Harvard University, a female voice echoed.

"See, relying solely on Icarus Gear isn’t always the answer. These guys are still stuck in the past, holding onto outdated maps and codes, which makes the situation so much easier."

"You’ve done a great job noting which airborne regiments were deployed where. Most of the map is soaked in blood, but it’s still readable."

"Exactly. The little wolf has the cognitive filters set to maximum. We never know how many more times we’ll have to do this..."

"…The pulse scan is complete. As of now, it seems like about two squads worth of enemy soldiers are dropping into the Harvard University sports complex."

"It was a good thing we moved towards the Harvard Law School area. The wide open fields there would be a perfect landing zone, and we moved out just in time. If we hadn’t, we could’ve been trapped."

"After checking, the mutants seem to be showing better movement than expected. Considering the uniforms, race, and skeleton structure, it seems more likely they’re from China."

"Interesting."

A brief silence passed.

Owens was busy analyzing the data collected by the mutants as they moved around. It made it easier for them to assess the situation.

The mutants had been roaming around, taking both lives and intelligence, which allowed them to quickly figure out the identities of the forces deployed around Boston and also access the communication network.

The Icarus Gear immediately translated any Russian or Chinese that passed through the communication network and stored the important data separately, which allowed Owens’ team to easily identify the enemy.

Owens spoke:

"These guys are from the Thunderstrike Special Forces of the Chinese People's Liberation Army Ground Force (PLAGF). It looks like no more than one battalion has been deployed, although the brigade itself isn’t large. But, unlike the Russians who deployed at least one full regiment, China’s got fewer troops involved."

"Even though there aren't many people in Boston, the number of troops deployed for the purpose of establishing a beachhead or full-scale war is too small… Sending a whole airborne team just to deal with the Dagger team seems excessive. What do you think?"

"Probably a mix of both. Don’t worry about it. The important thing is to leave here safely… In situations like this, it’s better to focus on what the enemy is carrying."

Even without binoculars or a telescope, it didn’t matter.

The Icarus Gear’s lenses could be magnified to whatever level the user needed, and it would also display what kind of weaponry and armor the enemy was wearing.

Owens' team quickly realized that the enemy still hadn’t deployed any man-portable air-defense systems (MANPADS).

"…We’re not sure if they haven’t deployed them yet, or if they’re just hiding them, but we’ll need to check more thoroughly to be sure."

"What are you planning to do?"

"Nothing we can do. We’ll have to gather data as we go. I’m not sure what tactical equipment we have at our disposal right now…"

"The reconnaissance drone Rapland deployed got destroyed during the missile interception, but we have about two sniper drones still operational. Considering the enemy doesn’t have proper air defense, now’s the best time."

"Now, that’s the kind of good news I was hoping for."

A brief silence followed, then a metallic click.

At that moment, the Eagle Team placed the thick platform they had been carrying on their backs onto the ground. When they raised their palms, small concentric circles spread out, accompanied by the mechanical assembly sounds coming from inside.

As the device unfolded, two drones, each larger than a person’s torso, slowly floated into the air.

"Hornet 1, Hornet 2. Deployment complete. These are sniper drones with .50 caliber rounds. They also have optical tracking capabilities."

"Good. The mutants seem busy up there, but we can’t just rest. We’ll clean up the escape route, so let’s do what we can. One of the drones will focus on reconnaissance, and the other will provide fire support."

"At Harvard Stadium, about 20 enemy soldiers have been spotted. We’re checking to see if anyone’s missing."

"Good, let’s move. Eagle Team, I’ll leave the drone operations and the protection of the pilots and mission officers to you."

"Be careful, my ground dog friends. We’ll help you as much as we can."

"The army can’t do anything without the air force. You can count on us."

With a swish!

At that moment, the entire Delta EX team stood up. There were only three of them: Antoni Owens, Anton Morrison, and William Chester, but hidden behind the mutants' strength, these three also had formidable firepower.

The Dagger team, which had carefully emerged from a church near Harvard Law School, crossed North Harvard Street, moving past the gymnasium, and carefully entered the towering Harvard Stadium.

As expected, everyone knew when airborne troops were at their most vulnerable.

Now, the Dagger team, having just landed, planned to obliterate the enemy airborne forces that were scrambling to distribute supplies and seize the surrounding area.

It didn’t take long for the Dagger team to sneak into the center of the stadium and place their crosshairs on an enemy battalion that was busy dividing firearms and packing parachutes.

Then—

"Deploying the pulse. EMP discharge."

"Identified the squad leader and deputy squad leader. These guys are focusing on their legs. We’ll have to ask them a few questions."

"Ugh, that guy just got hit by a .50 caliber..."

With a subdued firing sound, the enemy soldiers, who had been grouped together in the stadium, fell to the ground like autumn leaves.

Since they were in the middle of distributing firearms, the enemy soldiers were too easily overwhelmed. Despite being elite airborne troops, they dropped like ragdolls.

The commander in charge of the squad hurriedly shouted into the radio, but the circuits inside the radio had long since burned out.

Amidst the shattered and broken bodies of their own troops, those who were desperately holding onto their shins, barely keeping their legs from giving out, groaned in pain.

The Dagger team deactivated the optical tracking devices and took out bandages and medical nanomachines as they displayed their best Chinese language skills.

"Ugh… Aah!"

"Welcome to your American tour, as an American representative. It seems you don’t have a passport, so if you don’t want to be sent straight to heaven, you better start talking about the information you have."

"I don’t care if you refuse, but in a minute, you might be begging me to end it for you."

With a subtle rustle, the matte-colored tactical knife slowly emerged. When its form was briefly illuminated by the moonlight, the remaining survivors of the Dagger team who had been spared began to lose all will to fight.

It was truly a quintessential American greeting.