Whoooom!
"Ahhh…!"
"What’s happening!? Report!"
"I-I don’t know… we can’t connect with the outside!"
"Goddammit, so you’re telling you can’t even send soone to figure out what’s going on while hiding in here? We’re in enemy territory, damn it! Pull yourself together!"
33 Thomas Street Building, Titan Point.
A so-called "windowless building," one that could withstand a nuclear war for about two weeks. With no windows except for ventilation shafts on the walls, this was also the NSA’s core departnt, a listening post with long-range communications systems.
Around 100 Russian-Chinese subunit troops had occupied the building, using it as their base, and at so point, they felt a massive vibration shaking the whole structure, realizing they had lost contact with the troops they had sent out.
No one knew that this was part of a ticulous strike operation being carried out with what little capability was left in the U.S.
The reason was simple.
"Those damn Artemis people… After giving rocket launchers to the escapees and rioters, I knew this would happen. Not much we can do now. If the building was going to collapse from one or two rocket hits, it would have already fallen."
"We sent people outside to assess the situation. They’ll be back with results soon."
"That’s not the issue. We’ve lost communication with the submarines stationed in New Haven. The vibrations from just now might’ve damaged the communication equipnt on the 22nd floor. Send repair personnel."
"Understood."
How long passed? Soon, the communication unit personnel began climbing up.
As expected, they weren’t carrying guns or anything, just repair tools. This was the subunit’s ho turf, and no one else was inside the building.
About ten communication unit mbers began heading up to the 22nd floor, clearly annoyed that they had to wake up after just two hours of sleep.
But what they encountered on the 22nd floor was even stranger.
"Crazy."
"Is that… a missile warhead?"
"Shit! Command! Command! This is Lt. Popov from the communications unit! The enemy has fired a missile into the building! Imdiate evacuation is needed!"
A missile nosecone poking through the ceiling.
Accelerating, the bunker-buster missile’s warhead collided with the building’s ceiling, and the explosive bolt caused the missile to penetrate at least 30 ters of the building, coming to a halt sowhere mid-way, waiting to detonate.
At least that’s what the communication unit mbers thought, and as soon as they realized the situation, they panicked and fled back down the way they ca.
However, ironically, the missile didn’t explode. The guided bomb, designed to puncture the building, contained an explosive bolt instead of the usual charge, and it had damaged the building’s roof and penetrated all the way to near the 22nd floor, leaving it impossible for anyone to reach the area.
And that allowed two individuals to infiltrate from the rooftop.
Riding a large drone, two mutants climbed onto the chaotic rooftop of the building.
"...I’ve never seen such an infiltration thod."
"Drums are nice after all."
"Let’s get started. We’re on a tight schedule."
Part of the building’s rooftop had partially collapsed, but precise targeting calculations ensured that the two could use the rooftop staircase to enter the building.
Though they were human, they were hardly "human." The two of them quickly began descending. The building’s internal power from its generators lit up various areas as they proceeded.
They turned off their night vision goggles, and soone resembling an owl led the way. Only their eyes could see the green infrared laser cutting through the lit hallway.
It didn’t take long for the two of them to reach the 22nd floor.
Inside the space cluttered with communications equipnt and servers, the flashing lights were a blur.
Olivia picked up a control panel, and as the device booted, the Icarus Gear automatically established a network line.
How long did it take?
[Reconnecting to the National Security Agency network… Identified. The first operation objective has been achieved.]
[The second linkage objective is now displayed. // Eliminate all enemy forces inside the building.]
[Recomnded thod – 3-Quinuclidinyl benzilate compound canisters. // Sleep, hallucinations, muscle relaxation.]
[After activating the canisters, spray them into the building’s air exchange system. // Ventilation ducts are non-functional.]
"...Is it working?"
"Better than expected."
"Then... what should I do now?"
"Take out the canister you brought, go down to the air exchange system on the floor below, and drop it into the vent. Then et up with again. Got it?"
"...Yes!"
And soone with a tail like a snake quickly made her way down the stairs.
21st floor. Her sensitive senses detected several vibrations from nearby, and she soon realized what they were—a group of about ten soldiers made eye contact with Eugene.
The firepower gap between those with and without guns was enormous, and it didn’t take long before she turned the entire communication unit into lifeless dolls.
Similarly, it didn’t take long to throw the canister into the huge air circulator.
The oxygen levels inside the isolated building gradually began to drop. This was only possible in this building. The air circulation system and the building's unique structure combined in such a way that it could deprive people of the very right to breathe.
Although the oxygen wasn’t entirely released, the mont the non-lethal sleep gas was injected, the expected result was inevitable.
It didn’t take long for the occupants to fall into a light hallucination. And since the two Icarus operators had pulse skills that could track people’s locations, the situation was under control.
A hundred or so building occupants, half-mad, and two Icarus agents were now facing off.
The only expected result was clear.
"The enemy, not knowing, hack…!"
"People, strange people walking around, hehehe, heeheehee…!"
"Shit, out the front door! The poison gas has been released into the whole building, ughh!"
Like snapping a child’s wrist or a thin twig, the two of them thodically cleaned up everyone they saw in front of them. Resistance was nonexistent or minimal.
Moreover, unfortunately for the Russian-Chinese coalition forces, those who tried to escape through the front door on the first floor were t with sothing worse than sleep and hallucination gas.
White phosphorus flas.
As they burned and the building caught fire, the smoke poured in.
Compared to BZ gas, it was far more deadly.
The mont the smoke filled the first floor, those who were fighting the escapees outside the building finally understood why communication had been cut off.
Of course, that wasn’t the end.
"Ugh, shit, where the hell did this stuff co from…!"
"It’s sticking to my body, the fire’s coming toward us!"
"A new incendiary device has activated! Back to the first floor, aaaahhh!"
As several drones waiting outside the building’s first floor activated at once, the white flas hit them like a tsunami.
The soldiers attempting to escape from 33 Thomas Street, in just 20 seconds, ended up in the sa spot as the border guards who had burned first. Whether it was hell or paradise, no one knew.
anwhile, the two-man kill team (or rather, one was more of an auxiliary) thoroughly cleaned every floor, slowly making their way down. The last ones left in the building—until the white phosphorus smoke began pouring in from the first floor—were the escapees.
Less than ten minutes later, the building was devoid of all but the two infiltrators.
How much ti passed?
"…CP. This is Stalker Actual. I’ve completed the cleaning of 33 Thomas Street. How’s the bombing progressing?"
CP here. The bombing is fully complete. Over 1,000 enemy killed. UAVs still hovering over Lower Manhattan, detecting surviving enemy forces, but difficult to track due to heat signatures.
"Understood. What now?"
Head to the evacuation point. It’s estimated that it’ll take at least a week to suppress the fires in Lower Manhattan.
"Got it. I’ll get out using Zodiac."
Under the burning flas, the two disappeared, as if they were never there.
The operation lasted only about 15 minutes, and during that ti, no enemy or U.S. military satellites were flying over Manhattan—either they didn’t exist or couldn’t connect.
Except for a few who knew the truth, the day’s events would be known as the Great Manhattan Fire.
"…They’re absolutely insane. Unbelievable."
"Weren’t there about 1,500 there?"
"And they’re all dead. Coyote, Styx, Hound… we’ve got to be careful of the backlash."
"Shall we prepare for retreat?"
"Of course."
anwhile, in Brooklyn.
Watching the white flas that illuminated the dark, Zodiac had a bad feeling.
Her day to head to Central Park was fast approaching.
"Entire financial district, Two Bridges, and Lower East Side are burning. With dozens of tons of white phosphorus used, it’s unlikely to be extinguished quickly."
"Make sure the fire doesn’t spread further. Have the mission objectives been achieved?"
"Much better than expected, Sir. All objectives surpassed, no casualties."
"Good. But this isn’t over, is it?"
"Unfortunately, no. The intel we gained during the operation confirms there are so urgent issues that need addressing."
Central Park HQ, Top Secret Area. 3:51 AM.
Originally a eting room only accessible by high-ranking officials, including the President, now had a dozen or so people gathered, all wearing combat fatigues dirty with blood and dust.
Aside from two individuals—Olivia and Eugene—who had just returned from Lower Manhattan, they had disposed of their contaminated clothes, showered, and were now in clean gear.
President Henry gestured to his aide to speak, indicating he wanted an explanation.
The conversation continued.
"First and foremost, we’ve confird the presence of Yasen-class submarines and upgraded subs at Artemis’ hideout and the 33 Thomas Street building. Their codenas are Vladivostok and Changzheng 18, and it’s highly probable they’re currently docked in New Haven."
"This is urgent."
"Yes, Sir. They must be neutralized or destroyed as soon as possible. These ships alone could derail all our plans."
The briefing continued.
Most present grimaced. It was understandable. Submarines were an unmatched asymtric force and were strategic weapons, carrying dozens of ballistic missiles.
However, there was so hope—ironic as it was, there was more hope than despair.
Lorentina, who was knowledgeable about ships, pointed out the good news.
"...But surprisingly, the situation might not be as bad as we thought."
"Why do you say that?"
"Well, Sir. Submarines require maintenance and docking facilities. And from the communication records, we know that both of these subs are currently docked in New Haven, and it’s highly likely they’ll stay there."
"...Stay there?"
"To keep the crew’s morale up."
Lorentina continued.
"Bringing a submarine from Russia to the U.S. is extrely difficult. They can’t cross the Panama Canal, so Russia or China must cross the North Atlantic to reach New York’s waters."
"...That would take quite a while."
"Based on their communications and logs, these subs likely ca from Norway and the South Atlantic. They’ve been at sea for over three months, carrying close to 100 additional crew mbers. We know what their mood’s like inside."
"So they have to stay docked in New Haven to keep the crew calm?"
"Yes, they’ve only been in the U.S. for about a month."
Everyone nodded.
Compared to the escapees outside, no one thought the submarine crew, who had just tasted fresh air for the first ti in a quarter, would be able to tolerate the remains of abandoned Arican cities.
The situation had already been half-confird through the communication logs.
And once the operators inside the room understood this, their minds began racing, considering what actions they needed to take based on the gathered intelligence.
Nurous conversations followed.
"We need to locate them first. Send all available reconnaissance drones to New Haven."
"How do we know if there are missiles? Artemis might have helped the enemy nation infiltrate, using New Haven as a base. It's not impossible."
"If there are crazy looters, they might have scattered desirable goods across New Haven with transport aircraft. If they’ve planted GPS, it might not be too hard to track."
"Now that we’ve accessed the enemy network, let’s extract as much information as we can. We can start by asking what they need."
Of course, there was no need to devise a plan with the president present.
After a few exchanges, the next destination was automatically set as the debriefing room, and the room went silent again.
Henry, sitting at his desk, understood how the operation had gone and what needed to happen next. With a small smile, he spoke to those gathered.
"The rest is up to you experts. I’ll handle the permissions and the required supplies. Get the operation plan submitted. Is that all?"
"Yes, Sir."
"Well then, I think that wraps things up for today. I have so things to discuss with them, so I’ll see you later. Everyone else, go ahead."
"Understood."
As the operators quickly left, Henry chuckled to himself and glanced beyond the door.
Then he spoke.
"How’s the Icarus Gear energy stabilization going?"
"Almost done, Sir."
"Good. I don’t know when the next operation will start, but we can’t afford to waste those lives. Make sure that all operators can use Icarus Gear as soon as possible."
"Understood. We’re preparing to operate it at the task force level. We expect ten initial personnel."
"Glad to hear that."
"What about the call signs?"
"Hmm."
Usually, this kind of decision was made by the operations officer, but when Henry heard this, he felt sothing important was being communicated, and he imdiately realized this call sign would go down in history.
As nas flashed through his mind, only one remained.
A term fitting the soldiers who risked their lives at the front.
"Daeger. Let’s go with Daeger."
"Task Force Daeger, acknowledged."
Was this the beginning or the final struggle?
The answer would only co with ti.
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