"Things are getting more and more troubleso. It's common now to see hastily assembled barricades blocking the road, and suspicious civilians going around noting down convoy routes. It's difficult..."
"Which areas are blocked?"
"Similar incidents are happening all over Midtown. Thankfully, the area around Lincoln Square - Central Park left side - is mostly clear. There's not much issue with the supply transport through Pier 99... for now, at least."
Click.
On a night gradually leaning into sumr, at around 10 PM in Central Park...
In what was quickly turning into a living quarters for high-level mutants, I placed my gun down on the wide bed floor, disassembled it, and started cleaning the parts diligently. In short, it was that annoying military maintenance task.
To be honest, it wasn't any more comfortable than doing it in the military. It was just the sa. Using firearm maintenance tools and so odd piece of paper or cloth to scrub the barrel... the sa old routine.
I heard that Tier 1 special forces units are equipped with so sort of... ultrasonic cleaner, and gunsmiths do the maintenance, but where could I get one of those?
'...Although, even if they were here, I’d still probably not get to use it for a while.'
In the end, the ultrasonic cleaner might not even work perfectly, and more importantly, I needed to know how the many types of firearms used by the US military worked and how to clean them properly.
That way, no matter what gun I used later, I could still manage ergency repairs smoothly in the field. Honestly, that was a valid point. You never knew when a firearm might break down.
Since we started serious firearm training just recently, I had painfully co to understand just how often small malfunctions happen out of the blue.
Of course, there were also tis when these two deliberately mixed defective ammo into the practice rounds. It was part of the training. They said it would help us respond more reliably in the field when things went wrong.
Anyway.
"...Then we’ll have to go soon, huh?"
"It seems that way. It's a troubleso situation in many ways..."
Just as they said.
It felt odd that they'd already started pushing us, three mutants, so hard, but the reasons we had to go to an unknown area where we didn’t even know how many enemies there were were overwhelming.
First of all, the more combat data we gathered, the faster the Icarus Operator recruitnt process would go. The changes in energy levels during battle had to be monitored and adjusted to eventually allow for the recruitnt of civilian operators.
Secondly, if we sent regular infantry troops instead of us, the urban warfare would likely result in massive casualties in every battle. Even if we sent first-round operatives, the situation would be sowhat similar or only a little better.
We were just beginning to get used to the Icarus skills, but if we had weapons that could track enemy positions in real-ti and strike them efficiently, that would make all the difference.
But.
"...So, now it's our turn. Do you know how uneasy I’ve been every day lately?"
"Everyone knows that, so we’re all preparing. Honestly, it’s a miracle we’ve lasted this long, you know? We could’ve been deployed a week ago."
"And this ti... I'll go with you."
"At least, we’re less likely to suddenly get caught in an improvised explosive device and blown up, so don’t worry."
Ah, right. The IED detection function was also ntioned.
Since I started getting better at English, Laurentina started telling stories about where she had been deployed, and the most common topic was how troubleso IEDs were.
There were so truly chilling stories. She had seen an armored vehicle flipped over by an IED buried in the road more than once. Thankfully, she said, she was usually deployed away from areas where such scenes were common.
It made sense. She was part of DEVGRU, so she wasn’t doing routine patrols like regular soldiers.
'...But, if I were to say that the soft sensation of her thighs stayed with more than anything, what would she say...?'
...The knee pillows were really nice. Soft, squishy, and slled good.
Of course, I knew that after saying this, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy a knee pillow for at least a week, so I shut my mouth and went back to assembling my firearm.
Thankfully, my first gun was the XM7 from the last ti I shot.
I carefully inserted the parts and finished assembling it, then placed it back into my personal cabinet. Now that I was treated as half an operative, this was all I could do.
Inside, there were nurous bulletproof plates, my combat vest adjusted to fit , bulletproof armor, and various rounds. My equipnt, including Icarus Gear-integrated devices like drones and tracking leap mines, was all packed inside.
Anyway, despite all this, the conversation continued.
"Changing the convoy's transport schedule wouldn't help much. You know that unless the cars packed on Manhattan roads are cleared, we won’t be able to fix the root issue."
"I’ve considered having the Cleaner folks build wedge trucks like theirs, but even that doesn’t seem like an effective solution. Right now, we’ve assigned overwatch teams to the convoys, and they’re using drones to monitor enemy distribution."
"Midtown’s where the convoys frequently go, so... this is going to be hell. Trying to track enemy distribution in a place full of buildings over thirty stories high with just a drone? That sounds awful. Maybe we need UAVs."
"Can’t help it. In a hellhole like this, for things to go even sowhat smoothly, we need at least 30 people wearing Icarus Gear, not just three."
...Nearly three months had passed, and it had been at least two months since we arrived in Central Park.
I could now hold basic conversations with people in English and, thanks to the military terminology books these two gave , I could understand a lot more.
They had told that pretending not to understand English usually helped with gathering intel, but I’d deal with that later. For now, I focused on mastering military acronyms.
The night was dark, but thankfully, lights had started to appear in Central Park. Of course, the blackout rules made it difficult to turn on lights freely.
Still, the most luxurious mutant housing here had LED lights and a refrigerator, one of the greatest inventions of modern tis, installed—though it wasn’t that big.
Naturally, thick curtains were hung around the windows to prevent any light from leaking out.
So, even on this pitch-black night, I was able to study leisurely inside my room.
anwhile, the others were fervently discussing things, marking up the Manhattan map. I couldn’t really join the conversation, but I tried to cram as much of it into my head as possible, looking for things to learn.
Would today pass by safely? That thought crossed my mind for a mont, but then I quickly changed direction—I wondered if I could handle things well if sothing happened today.
I had already taken the first step toward becoming an Icarus Operator, and my hope of safely returning to Korea without incident had long been shattered the day I first arrived here.
I would just do my best to prepare and struggle as much as I could.
But just as I had that thought-
───Zzzuuuu-!
"What..."
"Don’t dawdle, Eugene! Get your gear! Ergency support call!"
"Icarus team has been specifically requested. We’ll start pairing up with the allied forces, so lower the volu yourself."
The ergency call rang.
The LED lights on the ceiling blinked red for a mont, and at that instant, I felt a strange sensation, as if the hairs on my body were standing on end. It wasn’t my blood rising; it truly felt like the hair was standing on end, almost going in the opposite direction.
My heartbeat raced, and my breathing quickened. But as I had learned, I began to don all my gear from the gun cabinet, securing the buckles tightly so nothing would shift.
But those two were much faster at gearing up. By the ti I was still getting organized, they had already picked up their rifles, thoroughly aware of the situation, while I grabbed my bag full of drones and tracking mines, signaling that I was ready.
And at that mont, the communication ca through.
The requester was-
"...Support request received, 107th Military Police Company. Location: Grand Central Terminal."
"That’s about 2 km away. Luckily, instead of a vehicle, a helicopter has been dispatched. We should be there within 30 seconds once we board."
"Let’s go, let’s go, phew..."
"Don’t get scared, rookie. No one’s dying today."
The 107th Military Police Company, huh.
My hands trembled. Had my body ever resisted like this before?
But even that, the Icarus Gear, forcibly triggered hormone releases and controlled blood flow, easing the tension. By then, I had managed to finish getting ready.
It was ti to go.
The door to the room opened, and I dashed toward the helicopter pad, shattering the stillness of New York’s Central Park. I was so fast that by the ti the pilot checked the instrunts, I was already inside.
"Whoa, this is crazy. So fast! Fuel systems are normal, power systems normal, we’ll be taking off in 10 seconds!"
"The minigun... Damn, it looks like we’re low on ammo."
"We’ve already been through 10 sorties today! The maintenance isn’t fully done, so we don’t know what might happen!"
"Damn it, I bet the MPs below are wishing for at least balloons to play with. If we don’t go now, it’s gonna be a big problem!"
Click!
As the helicopter made a sharp maneuver, I strapped myself to the seat to prevent myself from falling out, and the sound of the rotors grew louder.
The pilot, with a voice filled with exhaustion but undiminished determination, added:
"We’re taking off! Hold tight!"
Boom!
At that mont, the black helicopter tore through the night sky of New York.
My first battle had begun.
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