I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun-Chapter 720: Syracuse (1)

"Looks like it's time to get back to work."

"Yeah, that's right. Normally, it would have been just you and the Eagle team, but as you know, the JFK airport operation is completely off the table."

"Still, it's better than splitting up. I prefer this. It's my first long-distance mission, so I'm a bit nervous... But you guys are probably more accustomed to these kinds of operations."

"Yeah. We specialize in these types of missions rather than charging straight into the front."

20 minutes before departure for Syracuse, 10:30 PM, Westchester County Airport.

Since it was June, nightfall came slowly. Of course, the Dagger team, who outright rejected the biological rhythm of humans that says work during the day and sleep at night, were planning to cross the dawn again tonight.

I wondered why I was feeling the jet lag from Korea in America, but unfortunately, that's how things were now.

When electricity, the definitive proof that humans had risen above beasts, became a rare commodity months ago, people became afraid of the night once again.

Only the chosen ones could defy the darkness, and even the traitors who had turned into rebels and predators amidst the chaos couldn't escape this fact.

...Well, that didn't apply to the Dagger team.

Recently, instead of the usual V-44TA1 Valkyrie tilt-rotor transport that Central Park frequently used, a C-130SH tactical transport, which might never be used again until the end of the world—though that was a joke—was waiting for us on the runway.

A lot of cargo was being loaded. Food, water, tactical supplies, shelter-building equipment, communication devices, ammunition, and so on. Since the operation was happening 300 km from Central Park, quite a lot of supplies were needed.

I suddenly remembered the old days.

'...This feels just like the winter training exercises.'

I recalled the memories of carrying full gear on my back, heading to the assembly point with my fellow soldiers, whether they were juniors, seniors, or peers. They set up large tents, installed kerosene stoves, and after setting everything up, we ate plastic-wrapped meals. Those weren’t really fond memories, but they resurfaced all the same.

Now, we weren’t walking; we were taking a military transport. It felt nostalgic in many ways.

Anyway, we were receiving our final briefing before departure.

The situation at Hancock Air National Guard Base in Syracuse was... well, it could only be described as a strange middle-ground scenario.

"We confirmed the runway situation at Hancock Air National Guard Base using reconnaissance drones. There are quite a few tire marks, and considering their clarity, it seems they were made within the last month."

"It doesn't look like they've recovered all the aircraft."

"That's right. It’s estimated that about ten drones are still waiting to be recovered."

"It doesn't seem like they left them intentionally... I can make a few assumptions. Since we've been making things difficult for Artemis recently, they might be trying to recover some of their assets."

"We don’t know the full truth, but as long as we beat them down and make them spill the truth, that’ll be enough."

What should I say?

After spending so much time with the Dagger team and hearing countless deployment stories, I've come to realize these guys... they were out of control, in a good way. Physically and morally.

To be precise, in past wars involving the U.S., soldiers had to follow strict combat rules. It was expected — don’t shoot civilians, only engage with enemies, no torture, that sort of thing.

But with the judicial system dismantled and enemy forces looking like a circus—foreign nations allied with hostile companies selling weapons to their own country—it was a whole new ballgame.

And so, Emperor Henry of the Holy Unified Empire placed all the blame on the enemies and himself, loosening the reins for the Dagger team.

That's why we would become the executioners representing the fallen America.

"Interrogations of the enemy can be done without restriction, but we need to pick our targets carefully this time. We’ve confirmed there are quite a few civilians where we’re going."

"Well, it's New York's northern part, where wild animals are often wandering around. It's only natural. I just hope there aren't too many crazed survivalist types."

"We can still get some useful info from them, even if they’re a bit off. If they’re no good... then there’s nothing to be done."

No one was unaware of what "nothing to be done" really meant.

Civilians were no longer safe from the word "war." Anyone could be a potential enemy, and the U.S. couldn’t afford any future risks. If I were in their shoes, I would probably think the same.

Still, it was a relief that preparing for the worst didn't necessarily mean it would happen.

The aerial photos proved that.

"Syracuse's eastern flatlands are expanding. Survivors are using wood for fuel. There might be room for negotiation. Please keep that in mind."

"We'll avoid direct contact as much as possible, but we’ll need to do it if necessary. Once we establish the shelter and gather intel, we’ll scout around the 174th Fighter Wing Base and assess enemy concentrations."

"As soon as we get there, I’ll mark enemy positions. Can you get close air support ready in under 10 minutes, if possible?"

"...I’ll try."

"Good. We can't adjust the power of ballistic missiles easily. If we blow up the airport, the drones won’t be able to take off."

Olivia spoke with a relaxed smile, but even though she was trying to lighten the mood, it didn’t seem to work.

As we talked, I finished inspecting my weapon. With a satisfying click, the bolt slid into place on my sniper rifle.

The strike team, led by Logan and Laurentina, consisted of former special unit members, and I was going to be part of the reconnaissance team, accompanying Olivia, the operations leader of the Eagle team.

The weapon I would carry today was the M44 LRD-2, a heavy sniper rifle modeled after the Anzio, capable of firing 20x102mm rounds. Its code name: Titan.

Ironically, the only thing I took from the Anzio was its size.

The reason was simple: The Icarus Gear produced enough power to fuel a large nuclear power plant, and while there were countless things we could do with that energy, the most groundbreaking use was one.

"Firing a 20-gram round at 3 km per second. Nothing would be able to withstand that."

"It’ll probably hurt my shoulder after each shot, but I should be able to handle it. The problem will be if the rifle can handle it."

"Can’t this even pierce through tanks?"

"It should definitely go through an armored vehicle. If I hit, I could even take down a helicopter."

"Let’s just hope we don’t have to use it on those kinds of things, rookie."

Well, that might be true.

Anyway, due to recoil control and the weapon's power supply system, the sniper rifle weighed around 40 kg, but honestly, it wasn’t too heavy for us. The problem was its length.

If we couldn’t break down the barrel, it would’ve been a huge problem, but luckily, that wasn’t the case. So, carrying this heavy metal mass was always the job of mutants.

Maybe one day, even our assault rifles could have railgun systems installed.

With the mission objectives set, the supplies loaded, it was finally time to depart.

As the operation officers removed screens, chairs, and tables from the runway, we boarded the waiting C-130SH.

The SH stood for Silent Hercules. I heard that, with its ability to adjust the angle of the propellers and attach optical equipment, it could be used for infiltration, though I was skeptical about that.

It was time to take off.

"If the mission drags on too long, that’ll be a problem. I’d like to finish in about two weeks, but I don’t know if that’s possible."

"If things go poorly, we’ll extract from Griffith International Airport, about 50 km east of Syracuse. You all know this, but remember it well."

"There’s a shopping district and a Walmart about 7 km west from the planned shelter. Once we’re settled, we’ll scout with drones. We’ll need to gather info for a day or two."

"Only those who know what they’re doing are here, so I feel at ease."

As the lower ramp door closed, and the heavy body of the plane began to take off from the runway, the conversation continued. Now we had 30 minutes of flight ahead of us to northern New York.

I just hoped we wouldn’t suddenly get hit by a missile.

Whether the Dagger team knew what I was thinking or not, they continued discussing what needed to be done once we landed, not even discussing the process—just setting the result and skipping straight to it.

Updat𝓮d fr𝙤m ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com.

I tried my best to follow along, and I quickly learned the general idea of how things were going to unfold.

"As soon as we land, set up the equipment and camouflage the surroundings. Looks like people are starting to spread out in this area, so we’ll monitor them and then make new directives."

"Our mission is reconnaissance and strike, not civilian rescue, so avoid contact unless absolutely necessary."

"I’m already getting a headache just thinking about how many times we’ll have to deal with this in the coming days. We’re almost there, so let’s get ready. Rookie, check your gear."

"Yes."

As I exhaled, the mood shifted.

The white lights went off, and after putting on my respirator, I stood up and detached the clips from the gear hanging in the hanger. There was 1 minute and 11 seconds left until the drop.

A voice echoed through the intercom.

"Operation starting. We’re setting the altitude to 500m."

"Wind’s mild. There shouldn’t be much deviation. Oxygen levels normal, parachutes functioning. Everyone ready?"

"All clear. We’ll open the ramp door now."

Squeak!

At that moment, the air inside changed. All we could see through the open ramp were the pitch-black darkness and the sound of the wind. The altimeter automatically set itself, and the Icarus Gear confirmed that the parachutes were operational.

With a buzzing sound, the cargo began to fall, and before long, only eleven operators remained in the hanger.

It was time to jump.

"Dive, dive, dive!"

"Recon team, jumping! After the aircraft turns, strike team will jump to the drop zone!"

And at that moment...

I, along with the Eagle team, along with five other members, charged into the darkness, not being able to see an inch ahead of us.

The operation in Syracuse had begun.