I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun

"I've never been to Cuba before, but it’s a city with not much to see. And it’s so quiet here that I can’t even guess what the operators who came before us were up to."

"We could rest here for a day or two, but... not sure. Let's focus on gathering information. If we're lucky, there might be some traces left behind by Echo. Of course, until then, one of us will have to keep an eye on things with a drone."

"...But what about our food?"

"We've brought enough spare supplies for now, so it won't be a problem for a while. But if it drags on, we’ll have to source it ourselves. So, during the reconnaissance, we should check out places like food storage."

"Ah, tactical procurement."

"Stop picking up weird words..."

Kamaquey Province, Kamaquey.

About 5 km southeast from the city center, in an abandoned container storage site, which was also being used as Dagger Team’s temporary base, we were busy as usual with reconnaissance.

An SUAV with long-range capabilities was flying several kilometers above the ground, scanning below. A small camera mounted underneath it was showing us a detailed view of an area we’d never thought we’d visit.

The city roads were extremely... web-like. Or maybe I should apologize to the spider webs for that comparison. At least, they’re radial and intersect in some sort of order.

But here, the roads looked strangely shaped, and honestly, they were just a chaotic mess. Especially the city center; it was hard to tell if there was even a straight road leading anywhere.

Still, I figured this must be the charm of an old city. I’m a cultural relativist, so I thought, "Oh, it must be like that."

And besides, we were about to enter the area soon, so it felt wrong to criticize.

"Finally, we're getting to move. I feel like we’ve only been here two days, but honestly, just doing reconnaissance was getting a bit dull. Heh."

"You’re one of those who thrives on the field, huh? Let’s check the hologram first. We need to test the visual and voice modulation functions. And then, the language... does Cuba speak Spanish?"

"It’s a bit different from the usual, but if we don’t run into anyone, it shouldn’t matter. The suspicious folks who arrived before us probably won’t react too much to seeing another outsider. Unless, of course, we turn on the optical camouflage."

"Seems fine. I’ll go with the rookie. If something comes up, get in touch."

"If something happens, getting support will be tough. Handle it yourself."

So, should I bring my gun?

Before I even had the chance to think about it, Logan had already holstered his weapon. I was similarly equipped.

However, there was a slight difference: this holster wasn’t the typical one used for... a handgun. It was much larger. Specifically, it was about the size of our thighs.

But just to clarify, saying it was "thigh-sized" might sound bigger than it is, but in reality, it wasn’t particularly large for an adult male. Roughly the size of a male palm.

But why use the phrase "thigh-sized"...?

"...This holster's too tight now. This is getting annoying!"

"The rookie’s got the holster attached to his tail. Maybe that’s better."

"Damn it, I just got stronger and now nothing useful comes out of it."

...And truthfully, it was fitting to call it "thigh-sized" for my current body, though.

I hadn’t changed much compared to before — well, technically, I had, but not as drastically as Logan or Laurentina had. They, on the other hand, had changed to a near-unrecognizable degree from their past. I’d seen their old photos — their thighs were as thick as barrels.

Anyway, the holster wasn’t designed for a handgun.

It was a Kydex holster capable of holding an MP7A2.

With a Picatinny rail, Stark Express grip, CQBL-1 low-visibility laser, a standard EOTech holographic sight, a suppressor, and the MP7A2 itself, with four 40-round magazines, it was a large holster for just that weapon.

This was the minimum choice for unforeseen situations.

"I hope we don’t have to shoot it."

"How about carrying a handgun, too?"

"Too many weapons would be uncomfortable. I’ll just take a random car nearby if needed. Keep an eye on things with a drone."

"Got it."

Click.

The sound of plastic locking in place, the gun was secured in the holster. The slight added weight on my thigh felt strangely comforting. Not in a bad way, though. It felt more solid.

Once we stepped outside the musty-smelling building, the dry earthy smell hit us. The contrast between the half-scarred mountain and the thick forest was striking.

Activating the camouflage hologram, I braved the humid air and the scorching sun, watching a dusty car roll out of a garage and hop in.

Logan pressed the gas leisurely, and after about 4 km, we reached the outskirts of the city.

How much time had passed? We entered the city outskirts.

"Checkpoint Alpha reached. 500 meters ahead, a gas station. Looks like armed personnel are guarding it, but we probably don’t need to shoot. It's up to personal judgment."

"From what you’re saying, it sounds like if we mess up, we’ll have to put a bullet in the heads of a bunch of vigilantes."

...Of course, the scary part is, if things go wrong, we might have to wipe them all out.

This was, strictly speaking, a classic black ops operation. Honestly, even if we killed Cuban vigilantes, I’d wager the U.S. wouldn’t care much.

Maybe Cuba would protest, but... they'd just end up getting wiped out, and the U.S. would shrug it off.

Anyway, even though the situation was tense, we were already walking.

With optical camouflage activated, it wasn’t hard to pass the gas station and head deeper into the city.

'Perhaps they’re guarding it because there’s still gas...'

The truth is, no one can know the result unless we ask directly.

As I thought this, we continued moving deeper, planning to follow the waypoints we’d set up over the past few days.

After collecting some groceries and packing them in bags, we’d retrieve them with a drone in the early morning, while searching the area for traces of the three agents who came before us. That was our task.

In a big city, we might’ve had to worry about CCTV exposing our movements, but here, that wasn’t necessary. The security in this kind of city wasn’t exactly great.

How long had it been?

After traveling through several waypoints, we arrived near the Kamaquey airport on the city’s right side.

We didn’t forget to send the gathered data.

"...We’ve been checking around, but the public sentiment here doesn’t seem like it’s worth worrying about. I don’t think they’ve had enough time to try anything here."

"They seem to be thinking the same. Southern Command was keeping an eye on Cuba’s situation, but we don’t need to worry about it. Just focus on the mission."

"Alright. We’re about to reach Kamaquey Airport. Let’s check out the runway."

Creeeak!

Even though a pulse was released, only silence followed. We checked for remotely accessible devices in the airport, but didn’t find much. The airport facilities weren’t exactly top-notch.

It wasn’t like Incheon Airport, where you’re surrounded by CCTV cameras everywhere. It felt more like a large bus terminal in a smaller city.

We quickly glanced through the airport, and as expected, the internal conditions weren’t great.

But-

-[Alert: Rubber pieces identified on the runway.]

"...Finally."

"Looks like something’s about to come to light."

As always, the longer the tail, the sooner it gets stepped on.

Perhaps they thought we wouldn’t notice? Or maybe they didn’t expect anyone to track them down? Or... were they trying to lure us?

But that thought didn’t last long. Logan, far off, was examining the tire marks left behind on the runway from takeoff or landing.

I, however, wasn’t keen on knowing what was unfolding inside the airport, so I stepped into the building and began scanning around...

-[Alert: Signal detected. Accessible ECHO found.]

"...Looks like we found something, Viper."

Of course.

The ECHO system, formed automatically when three or more operators meet — something that no one outside Dagger Team knew about — was detected by the Icarus Gear.

Before the holographic conversation began, the script popped up automatically. As the hologram formed, I casually skimmed through the script...

"...Alejandro Webb?"

It didn’t take long for a familiar name to appear before my eyes.

I hadn’t yet imagined what kind of storm this would stir up.

"This has suddenly escalated quite seriously."

"So we’re not reporting to HQ and just dealing with this ourselves, huh? This is insane. I didn’t expect to hear the name of the Secretary of Homeland Security, who we thought had gone missing."

"When we studied information warfare, we were told some pieces of information are too critical to be reported immediately... I never thought I’d actually experience it."

"I used to laugh at those Netflix shows where ex-special forces guys mess up trying to kill someone who knows too much, and now we’re in a similar situation."

Alejandro Webb, 67 years old.

He had commissioned through ROTC at Norwich University in Vermont, then after retiring as a captain from the U.S. Army Ground Vehicle Systems Center (GVSC), he entered USCIS and later entered politics. After working as the director of USCIS and running the EB-5 investor visa program, he became the Deputy Secretary of Homeland Security after gaining support from the Senate through mysterious funding sources.

He was thought to have disappeared during the Omega Virus outbreak, and was later declared dead without further investigation.

"Looking at this ECHO, it's clear this guy faked his disappearance and has been scheming behind the scenes. But now I’m not sure how we’ll catch him."

"The best move would be to physically confront the traitors hiding somewhere in Cuba. If we find them, we can get some solid results."

"...But when should we bring this up?"

"One thing’s for sure: Reporting this to HQ isn’t going to help much."

Just like that.

There was a lot of information in the world, and some were crucial, but some could cause chaos just by being exposed. Especially now, mentioning this information too early could increase the confusion.

To be blunt, even a newbie like me could understand that. Honestly, with enemy forces already in the U.S., bringing up something like this would only pile on more problems.

And-

"We’ll give it about a day or two. If the operation fails or we miss the Log agent, we’ll reassess. Think two days is enough?"

"What are you planning?"

"About 48 hours, and the three of us should be able to sort it out."

Laurentina, sipping her instant coffee, added:

"Trying to open a locked basement door that’s been shut since grandma’s time, without any clue where the cockroaches are headed, without even any insecticide... it’s only a problem if you don’t prepare properly."

"That’s a horrible metaphor. But I can’t argue with you."

"Just like how HQ picked out the refugees?"

"You know it, rookie. That’s exactly what we’ll do. It’ll happen soon."

Of course.

The countless experiences I had during my time with Dagger Team were things even seasoned special forces veterans hadn’t experienced.

And through it all, I learned a lot of meaningful information, one of which was that thorough preparation never betrayed us.

Of course, I said that in a dramatic way, but honestly, the conclusion I’d drawn was no different from before.

"We’ll just cut their wrists off, grab the irrefutable evidence of their betrayal, and get the contact information. Nothing changes."

"...Is it just me, or does 'cutting off wrists' sound like a metaphor for tracking a Log agent?"

"Not the most romantic expression. It’s not really my style."

"Who cares about style, idiot."@@novelbin@@

I wondered if this was really the type of agenda we should be discussing style, but well, I’m just a regular guy, so I’ll just follow the words of the top operators.

Anyway, this conversation was possible because we struck gold during the first direct reconnaissance. Strangely, Dagger Team was always lucky in this regard.

Personally, I’d prefer it if we had luck on our side and finished things happily without a direct confrontation, but since that’s not the case, the world is in this mess.

It was truly a difficult situation.

"Do you think the cockroaches know we’ve already gotten this far?"

"Whether they know or not, the outcome is set. Let’s get ready to hear the full story."

"I haven’t really warmed up to them, but it’s time to leave. Hopefully, we’ll wrap this up quickly."

"No one knows. First, let’s check out the base structure."

Activating the Icarus Gear, we identified three red dots on the map in Cuba.

The traitor operators were about 500 km southwest of here, near Havana. It was clear they had flown from here to there.

'Antenna array, SIGINT/ELINT processing facility, warehouses and vehicle maintenance, headquarters and secret base accommodations, and other facilities...'

Where could they be hiding?

I prepared myself with my gear, the familiar movements kicking in.

Photon 1 had dropped off a transport plane at a military base called El Penon, about 8 km northeast from our abandoned warehouse, and if we helped with repairs, we’d be ready to depart in about two hours.

We left when the sun was shining, but by the time we returned, it was already dusk.

Logan and Laurentina strongly recommended the gear, especially the skill-oriented Pioneer, as I finalized the new interface simulation.

We deleted unnecessary data and erased any evidence of our presence. Even the mandatory Echo records were deleted with admin privileges.

The ruins returned to their desolate state.

Logan, fondling the tactical tomahawk he’d recommended, felt its strange weight in his hands.

It was time to depart.

"Alright, let’s go."

"Yes."

The summer sky above the jungle was stained with blood.

It seemed like this summer was going to be exceptionally hot.