I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun-Chapter 734: Insurgency (5)

"How’s the situation?"

"Refugees with grievances against Central Park have been identified, and the articulation of these grievances has been successfully carried out. Agent Jensen seems to be doing his job well."

"When considering only the civilians residing within HQ, it seems manageable, but if we include the civilians operating outside, the scale of the unrest is likely far larger than we initially estimated."

"Right. Let's check what kind of catchphrase Agent Jensen has instilled."

Central Park HQ, End of June.

Despite the increasingly hot weather and the sky occasionally unleashing its rain, inside the TOC, things were quite comfortable, with numerous support officers coordinating civilian operations in real-time.

Under the deliberate neglect and instigation of Central Park, discontent had begun to grow, fueled further by effective propaganda and incitement carried out by extraordinary deep-cover agents like Illich Jensen.

The way the protesters' public sentiment had gained momentum so quickly was remarkable. Had Central Park remained unaware, it could have been a fatal blow to HQ.

While it might not have completely brought down the U.S. government, internal strife could very well push the critically wounded nation back into a state of near-death.

Of course, ideally, that was the plan.

The operational officers skimmed through the propaganda and incitement materials sent by Agent Jensen.

Given the impressive abilities of a deep-cover agent, it was no surprise that this was happening. Though still in the rumor stage, the message, once properly disseminated, had the potential to create significant chaos at HQ in the near future.

The content was simple but effective.

"The refugee issue, the discrimination, and the incitement to serve as cannon fodder—it's truly remarkable. If this doesn't work, it would be a lie."

"The phrase about Americans giving Chinese only guns to use them as meat shields, while highly misleading, would be hard to explain away. The standing army system is a reality, though."

"Fortunately, according to Agent Jensen, the Chinese refugees inside HQ are preventing it from spreading. Instead, it’s being actively spread to the refugees outside Central Park."

"Stopping right where it needs to. Lucky. How did they stop it?"

"By claiming that spreading it inside HQ could lead to even harsher persecution."

"Hmm."

From all the data gathered thus far, the expulsion operation was proceeding without major issues.

That said, the officers continued to review the accumulating intelligence. Some Chinese and Islamic refugees had gradually begun to move their residences outside Central Park.

The deep-cover agents and operational officers had used these methods to sharpen the line between civilians and protesters. This would ensure smoother future operations.

Additionally, there were updates to consider.

"Additionally, we’ve received communication from the Genovese Family, who we encountered during the Bronx mission. The refugees have proposed an alliance, and it seems there’s been a contact request."

"The result?"

"The Genovese Family seems to have acknowledged the request but, considering the separate message, it’s likely that they want to distance themselves from this issue and continue cooperating with HQ unconditionally."

"Of course, they should. They wouldn't want to be caught up in what happened in the Bronx."

The Genovese Family.

To put it differently, during the operation that led to the mass slaughter of thousands of gang members through the collaboration of Dagger Team and Central Park, those who had nothing left to lose came south, abandoning all their past ties.

When the sixth seal of the apocalypse was torn open, the Bronx turned red with blood, and stars fell from the sky. In that moment of the apocalypse, the mafia members who repented faster than anyone else became one of Central Park’s biggest allies.

Sadly, it was the refugees who had mistakenly chosen to ally with those who had already repented.

It didn’t take long before the officers chuckled at this.

"Furthermore, Agent Jensen mentioned the Chinatown contact network and the protesters searching for the Canaan. But it's not that important."

"The operation to root out the protesters is becoming more detailed. Considering the percentage, they’re almost at the point where they can all arm themselves."

"Alright. Let’s get everything ready and start prepping after the submission. Let's wrap this up within a few days."

"Understood."

The moment the conversation ended, they returned to their original tasks.

With the civilian operation nearing its end after almost a month, as the officers had said, all that was left was the preparation.

"...Finally, here we are. It wasn't as long as a month, but still, it feels like it took a while."

"Once this is over, there will be time to focus more smoothly on HQ operations, right?"

"That's something no one can predict, but let's hope so. There's still a lot to do."

Just as he said.

Now, the Patriot surface-to-air missiles were being transported from the Redstone Arsenal and other military armories, with hundreds of AN/TWQ-1 Avenger and LAV-AD systems heading toward the northeastern coast.

Additionally, the state-of-the-art AN/SPY-6(V) AMDR radar and the linked ground-based Aegis systems had to be activated before it got too late. Otherwise, they wouldn't be able to prepare for the Allied forces' invasion.

The situation was dire—walking on a knife's edge and preparing for a storm, yet it was no time to collapse from a sharp pain.

Central Park made its decision, and the results would soon be revealed.

Two days later.

As refugees searching for work were replaced by agents in Central Park, and noise barriers were set up around, a group of refugees began arguing with the guides at the Labor Department—an argument that felt too unnatural.

"What’s going on?"

"I have something to say to the higher-ups at Central Park. Bring someone higher than you."

"This is the Labor Department. If you have a request, go to the sector where the government agencies are."

"I’m talking to you. Are you ignoring me?"

"I didn’t mean to say it like that—"

Thud!

At that moment, a man grabbed the guide by the collar and roughly lifted him up. It was clear this wasn’t natural, but no one was bothered by it. Everyone, except the refugees, had been expecting it.

The loud, exaggerated voice rang out, followed by the usual lines.

"Are you ignoring us, you damn mutts?"

"It’s a misunderstanding. So let go of my hand first."

"Hey! Let go! What the hell are you doing!?"

"Don’t touch me, you bastards!"

It was painfully awkward acting, but it was impossible to ignore the large number of people supporting those causing the ruckus.

The optical drones hovering over Central Park HQ scanned the refugees, checking for weapons. Support operators, pretending to break up the fight, subtly provoked the situation to escalate.

When a support operator disguised as a civilian roughly stopped the man grabbing the guide's collar, the small friction quickly escalated into a full-scale fight.

"What’s going on? Stop them! These bastards are causing chaos!"

"They’re out of their minds! Why are they doing this!?"

"Protect the rights of minorities! Send us back home!"

"The U.S. government wants to arm us to use as cannon fodder in the coming war! Don't be deceived, minorities! We need to unite and take back our rights!"

"You are being deceived by the United States! Listen to us!"

"Military police! Call the military police!"

The voices rose as the protests began. If these voices had spread at the intended moment, it could have been effective—whether true or false, simply planting doubt in the minds of the surrounding workers could have been enough.

But the protesters didn't know that all the civilians nearby were disguised support operators, and they had no idea that everything was orchestrated from the start.

The protest operation, planned by both the protesters and Central Park, had begun.

The first shot was fired by the 107th Military Police Company into the air.

Brrrt!

"Stop! Everyone, lie down!"

"Place your hands on your head and put your faces to the ground! Resist, and we will shoot!"

Chaos, or as expected.

The would-be protesters lay down with their faces to the floor, and the military police started handcuffing them one by one.

The protesters realized the situation was unfolding just as they had anticipated, and they smiled. Likewise, Captain Parkinson, who had noticed the protesters' gaze was fixed to the floor, exchanged a knowing glance with the lobby guide, then smiled.

The outcome was clear.

Clank!

"Finally. How’s it outside?"

"The guards are either asleep or elsewhere, so you can rest easy. Let’s move quickly—delays increase the chance of being caught."

"Let’s go. Everyone, get up. We move fast now! The destination is Chinatown!"

In the early morning hours, over a hundred refugees who had been semi-imprisoned in the Plaza Hotel, just in front of Central Park, awoke when the sound of metal rang out.

When the signal they had been waiting for came, they rose from their positions. This had all been part of the pre-arranged plan, and now, only one thing remained.

Moving to Chinatown.

The area was nearly burnt out, but it had its advantages. The protesters believed Chinatown would be a place where they could hold out until Central Park fulfilled its demands.

They weren’t entirely wrong. Chinatown had equipment for communication with their homeland, and there were food stores enough for a few hundred people to last a month or two.

‘If we hold out here, the Allied forces will arrive, and maybe then we’ll get treated better!’

Of course, this was a fantasy. Those still thinking rationally knew better than to entertain such ideas. After all, the refugees remaining in Central Park, even if pretending to cooperate, knew full well what was to come.

And that was the reality.

Under the cover of darkness, over a hundred protesters quickly fled the hotel and made their way to Chinatown, a distance of roughly 6 kilometers.

As Central Park had previously detected, refugees had been steadily leaving and settling outside Central Park, and when they reached Chinatown, it was already under reconstruction.

When the group was nearly there, someone spoke up.

"...Is this really the right thing to do? If Central Park finds out we’ve fled..."

"They might, but they can’t do anything to us."

The protesters still thought HQ was unaware of their weapons or that they were preparing for their own defense. They were gearing up for a public relations campaign, preparing to argue that killing them would be the same as shooting unarmed civilians.

They had created chaos in front of the Labor Department that morning to set this up, knowing HQ could not ignore the confrontation that would inevitably occur.

The protesters thought they could create a narrative to save their lives and weaken HQ’s position.

In Chinatown, people who had been hiding emerged to guide the protesters to an abandoned hotel nearby, where they began inspecting the weapons they had on hand.

Although it wasn’t time to use the weapons yet, the idea was to keep the last resort available—something that could be seen as a form of self-justification.

Illich Jensen, now in a middle-management position, knew exactly what was coming.

But there was no need to dwell on it.

A notification flashed before his eyes.

Alert: UAV launch complete. Ground-to-air turret is ready.

"Where are you going?"

"I’m going to check outside. We might have someone following us."

"Understood."

Leaving the building still buzzing with conversation, Jensen made his way to the designated spot. The building, already half-burned, had white phosphorus gas on the walls and floor, creating a space no one would dare enter. He rummaged through a pile of junk nearby and found two items: a fake blood pack and a gas mask.

He put on a wearable tablet, covering it with an armband, discarded the gas mask, and headed out to the roof.

How much time passed? Jensen felt a vibration on his left hand. Looking up, he saw the sky turning red—lock-on signal.

As soon as his hand reached his ear, a loud whoosh rang out from the rooftop about 150 meters away.

The explosion and the fire filled the sky.

Boom!

"What? What’s going on?!"

"What was that? Who did that?! What happened?"

"I... I don’t know! Suddenly, smoke rose from the ground, and it shot up into the sky!"

"Crazy...!"

At that moment, the protesters became enemies of the U.S. military assets.

Jensen, satisfied with the outcome, spoke calmly.

"Mission accomplished. Signal flare fired."

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UAV destruction confirmed. Begin operation.

The moment everything started to go awry, it became his stage.

The expulsion operation had begun.