"Sir, in 15 minutes, there is a eting with the Acting Secretary of Energy. In one hour, there will be a report from Acting Secretary of Holand Security Solomon, and CIA Director Oren Kittney has requested a discussion regarding the repatriation support for black-ops agents stationed abroad."
"Damn it. I wish there were 48 hours in a day, or better yet, I had three bodies."
"Still, it’s a relief that the administration is managing to survive."
Early June, Central Park HQ.
For the ti being, Central Park had taken on the full function of the U.S. governnt, and the country, although barely surviving, was still hanging on in a world that had been half-destroyed by the virus.
Although it was debatable whether it could be called "survival," those who were aware of the current situation in the United States would likely agree with a hesitant nod.
The reason was simple. Of the three branches of governnt—legislative, judicial, and executive—only the executive branch had sohow managed to survive.
When the virus apocalypse swept through Arica, an unknown faction had reduced one of Washington D.C.'s two key centers, the Capitol, to ashes.
Most of the elected mbers of the House and Senate, representing the interests of each state, had been reduced to millions of white shards, buried in the underground remnants of the U.S. Capitol, charred beyond recognition, except for a few.
The judicial branch wasn’t any better off. Those who barely survived the Oga Virus adapted to a world where laws no longer existed, and the constitution beca irrelevant.
Of course, the federal executive branch wasn’t immune to the virus.
However, they had sothing the legislative and judicial branches lacked in a world plunged into apocalypse.
Military power.
"I didn’t realize it would be this hard to piece the world back together. Seven presidents in the 21st century, and two of them were in a la-duck state by their second year, one was impeached, and even the clock couldn’t prepare them for a viral apocalypse."
"It’s an unprecedented situation. The fact that you’re still alive is a miracle, sir."
"Maybe so. Anyway, let's get to work. There’s still too much to do."
To survive, there was still so much to be done, and many things that required the president’s approval.
Henry could feel the trendous weight on his shoulders. As long as he was alive, Arica would sohow keep running, but once he died...
He subtly shook his head, dismissing unnecessary thoughts. Instead, he focused on assessing how much military force and resources were needed to tackle the most urgent matters.
‘...Most of the imdiate fires have been put out.’
The military forces scattered across New York City and New Jersey had been gathered in Manhattan, and the approximately 20,000 escaped prisoners who had been attempting to devastate Eastern New York had been reduced to nothing.
The Russian-Chinese splinter forces that had set up in Lower Manhattan were burned to ashes by phosphorus, leaving no trace. The two nuclear submarines, capable of destroying Arica three tis over, had been successfully captured.
The gangs that filled the Bronx had been shattered so thoroughly that they would never recover, and along the way, the conspiracy involving the military-industrial complex Artemis had been uncovered.
However, Henry did not feel encouraged or relieved by these accomplishnts.
This only ant that the initial response had been successful. The future crises that Arica would face would be far harsher and more difficult to endure than anyone’s worst imagination.
So, what should be done? Of course, he knew. More military force was needed. More preparation was required. It was inevitable that Dagger Team would receive the most support, but that alone wouldn’t be enough.
What should he do?
The answer ca soon enough.
"Therefore, the conclusion at this point is that all available U.S. military resources must be focused on the repair of the railroads and the expulsion of Artemis from Northern New York."
"As can be seen from the report below, there are still many potential military supply depots and bases in Northern New York that we haven’t been able to contact properly. One of them, to the north of Albany, is the Waterbleet Armory."
"What’s there?"
"Large-caliber howitzers, mortars, and a large supply of mortar shells, recoilless rifles, and more. Additionally, there is an armory that manufactures the barrels for M1 Abrams tanks and self-propelled artillery."
"Nothing unimportant. But it’s lower priority."
"Unfortunately, yes."
As he had said, with the legislature and judiciary having evaporated and the Departnt of State becoming irrelevant, Henry’s desk was piled high with military-related reports. He absorbed military knowledge through the work of hundreds of staff mbers like a sponge.
Just months ago, he hadn’t even known exactly how many weapons the U.S. had or how they were operated, but now, in these extre circumstances, he realized that conventional forces were useless.
Without people, weapons couldn’t move.
He cleared the report related to Albany and picked up another one.
Syracuse.
A small city located closest to Artemis Technologies, and a facility designated as a high-priority target.
"Let’s get to the point."
"Yes, sir."
The explanation continued.
"Syracuse. It’s ho to Hancock Field Air Force Base and the 174th Fighter Wing. In army terms, it’s the size of a regint. It’s also ho to the 108th and 138th Attack Squadrons. We estimate they have at least 30 MQ-20 Avengers."
"Given that there has been no response to calls, it seems things didn’t end well."
"Not sure, but that seems likely."
This was clear.
Considering the existence of cyborgs like Valerie, who had been seen traveling back and forth from the Bronx and had been released from Central Park, it was most likely that the enemy aircraft had co from the 174th Fighter Wing based in Syracuse.
In other words, this base had to be neutralized or captured by the U.S. forces.
Whether the latest MQ-20 drones had been left intact, taken to Artemis' base, or modified, it didn’t matter—this would only be determined once they checked.
Solomon, reading Henry’s resolve, spoke up.
"I can’t say for sure, but I believe we need to investigate that facility. The MQ-20 is a massive machine with a wingspan of 20 ters and a length of 13 ters. If it’s been moved on the ground, there will surely be traces left."
"Couldn’t they have flown it to the Artemis base?"
"There will definitely be traces on the runway. If multiple planes took off, there will be large, irremovable tire tracks."
"Got it. Leave that part to . So, what’s the next step?"
"I’ve planned an operation for Dagger Team based on a few assumptions."
As he spoke, various scenarios flashed before Henry’s eyes.
If the drones had already been destroyed, if they had been taken to Artemis’ facility, if they were still at the base... there were many possibilities. But one detail stood out to him.
The operation targeting LaGuardia or JFK airports.
When the I-Tracker passed over that area, one of the operational staff mbers beside Solomon spoke up.
"The conclusion, based on our agreent, is that using the airports for military operations will be crucial for upcoming operations around Manhattan and for the defense of Central Park."
"...Seems like a reasonable suggestion."
"Excluding LaGuardia, Newark, and JFK, the only other viable option nearby is Westchester County Airport, and even that can only handle small aircraft."
"I see. So, you’re suggesting we repurpose the international airports. But the locations... don’t seem ideal."
"Exactly."
LaGuardia Airport was located only 1km from Rikers Island, and JFK Airport was in Queens, where Rikers inmates were still a problem. Brooklyn was right next to Queens.
At that mont, Henry understood everything.
"If we’re sending Dagger Team, we’ll need to provide them with chemical and biological defense gear."
"...We’re currently checking LaGuardia and JFK. If we don’t detect any enemy presence, we’ll send the engineer and CBRN units first. If things look worse than expected, we’ll cancel the airport retaking mission."
"Do it."
At the start of the virus outbreak, no one at Central Park knew about the horrific events that unfolded at the nearby international airports.
At LaGuardia, where the Lykers broke out, over 100,000 people were massacred, and the blood reached the ankles of the airport’s floors.
At JFK, where people desperate to escape Arica were slaughtered in droves.
And even Newark, although little is known, it’s safe to assu it didn’t end any better.
He absentmindedly wondered what would be for lunch at the ss and added,
"I guess we won’t be having at for lunch today."
Having once imagined the horrifying sights within the airports, there was no surprise here.
He wasn’t sure if sending Dagger Team was the right choice, but unfortunately, he shook his head and silently hoped the Icarus gear’s visual filters would work well.
The sumr was approaching, and the dead bodies from winter would soon rot away.
"Ugh, the weather is disgustingly nice. How about we go outside and shake off our blankets? What do you think?"
"Shut up."
"Logan, do I have to remind you that my rank is higher than yours?"
"Dammit, Lauren, Sergeant Major. You’re just a grumpy sergeant, why the hell... ow! Don’t hit !"
"It’s a free chance to get so Vitamin D. Get out here!"
June 6th, Central Park HQ, Alpha-class mutant dormitory.
There were a lot of idiots in the world, and sotis I wondered if even the elites of Arica, those gathered in this mutant dorm, weren’t just a bunch of idiots.
The Alpha-class mutants had now grown to five. Of course, no matter what, the bond between them deepened after each mission, and the dorm was always bustling.
Well, maybe... speaking like that, it felt like I was dealing with a weekend drill officer trying to dry blankets in the sun.
Lauren had beco very close with Logan, and now they were practically inseparable, exchanging jokes and acting like real friends. Both of them were in their mid-thirties, but let's ignore that.
While I was lost in such useless thoughts, I heard a slapping sound as Logan rubbed his sore rear and let out a loud yell. The sound was so sharp, it was clear it must have hurt quite a bit.
Unfortunately, I couldn’t enjoy the sight for long because Olivia started telling her story.
"So, Eugene. After graduating from early childhood education, I was lost trying to find a job. But then Top Gun Maverick ca out, and I knew, right then, this is what I had to do."
"...I feel like I shouldn’t say this, but that’s so random."
It was a wild story about how she ended up in the Air Force, after watching Top Gun, eventually leading her to join the CCT. It was so dynamic that my mind was completely boggled. Unlike other military stories, this one had an irresistible charm. The introduction was unique, which made it stand out.
As I tried to focus on the acrobatic fight between a shark and a polar bear, Olivia’s storytelling overshadowed all the visual input.
"Don’t ss with , you little bear."
"Do you want to get beaten like a dog?"
"Jeez, you uncultured land creature... Ow! I was joking!"
As they argued, Rapland gave a blank look. I thought she’d adapt to Dagger Team's atmosphere in a couple of days, but it seed like it might take longer. Still, I didn’t mind too much. Eventually, she’d get used to it.
Honestly, it felt normal to , but it was understandable that the operation officers, who had only seen Dagger Team overco impossible conditions, might be surprised by the chaotic camaraderie.
It seed like the conversation could switch gears faster than a drone. I had only been part of Dagger Team for a short while, but now I felt like peace was sothing that shouldn’t co too easily. It could be a side effect of the job or, more realistically, PTSD.
But I had to keep up, so I continued reading the manuals. That’s why I was often with Olivia. I had to start pulling my weight soon.
Sniper training, getting used to CQC, earning my JTAC license, testing explosives, and learning foreign languages—especially Chinese and Russian—were just a few of the tasks that awaited .
The Russian-Chinese alliance would land in Arica soon, and I had to be prepared for that too.
And so, amidst all the chaos, the mutants continued discussing the next operation. Would it be an assault on Artemis’ headquarters in Northern New York? Would we be cleaning up the aftermath in the Bronx? Or heading to New Jersey to assist with the railroad repair? There were many possibilities, but none of them sounded particularly appealing.
And then, just as I was reflecting, the saying "Speak of the devil" suddenly made sense.
--- BZZZZZ ---
"What’s that?"
"It looks like an unwelco guest has arrived. Looks like Dagger Team won’t be getting any rest."
Everyone, except Rapland, checked their Icarus gear. As I turned my eyes, I saw holograms floating above the wrists of everyone wearing the gear, a result of the nanomachines creating augnted reality lenses.
Rapland was the only one who didn’t see it, lying on her bed with a pout, as I read the ssage that had co through.
--[Notification: New operation plan confird. Operation scheduled for D-7. The details or execution may be subject to change or cancellation based on further information.]--
--[Operation area: Syracuse, New York / JFK International Airport.]--
--[Note: Ensure the inclusion of Olivia Nicks Lorelei and Eagle Team in the Syracuse operation. For JFK airport escort operation, adjust awareness filters accordingly before execution.]--
"What is this?"
No one could answer that question.
And sohow, I didn’t feel good about it.
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