"Well, the styrofoam is scattered on the roadside, so that’s not a problem, but extracting the oil is difficult. I’m glad I helped with the car transport, or it would have been tough. Plus, there are mutated ones wandering around nearby."
"Ahhtar?"
"I don’t know. They're draining fuel from underneath the car, but it doesn’t seem easy. There are a lot of people around."
"Tch. At this rate, we won't make it on ti…"
Manhattan.
Even more famous than Washington D.C., the capital. The Big Apple, the city that never sleeps, the city with lights that never go out—New York's streets were still filled with the remnants of a past glory that had fragnted.
The survivors dread of when the world could return to the prosperous past they rembered, and this was no different for those working in Central Park.
However, the operations officers, analysts, and the soldiers in charge of law enforcent had overlooked one important fact.
Manhattan was one of the busiest tourist destinations in the world.
"Others are starting to gather too. So of us are blending in… but we can't let it happen to us. There's nothing greater than the na of Allah."
"Yeah. Those damned bastards are oppressing us under the guise of war. Let’s see if they don’t respond when we get blasted from all directions."
New York was a major tourist city, drawing 70 million visitors annually, bustling regardless of the season or ti of day.
All the operation officers and other officials overseeing the work were aware of this, and they also knew that not all the civilians walking around Central Park or its vicinity were Arican.
But they had forgotten when the Oga Virus outbreak occurred. Everyone believed the apocalypse began on Black Friday, but a much bigger event occurred afterward.
The Boldrop event, or the annual New Year's Eve event in Tis Square, Manhattan.
Too many foreign tourists flew to Manhattan just to witness it. Unfortunately, most of them never made it back to their ho countries and beca casualties.
"…But what if we get caught? If the soldiers wandering around spot us, we could all be killed."
"Is that all the faith you have? Those bastards won’t even give us ti to pray to cca, and they’re ignoring all our requests for better treatnt! And the Shiite turban-wearing bastards won’t cooperate either!"
The reason they had been quiet for a mont was simple.
Dagger Team.
To be precise, no one knew exactly where or what anyone was doing, but victory reports kept coming from sowhere, and breaking that atmosphere would likely result in a bad outco—simply put, they were waiting for the right mont.
But from another perspective, this was a situation where refugees with ill intentions feared Dagger Team, imagining soldiers in their minds, and they didn’t want to break the victorious mood that these imagined soldiers had brought.
In other words, the refugees didn’t know who Dagger Team was, how many victories they had brought to Central Park, or how much power they had been granted.
Naturally, they were unaware that among those powers was a license to kill.
And because of that, the refugees were under the illusion that, even if all of this was exposed, it would only result in exile at worst.
"We haven’t officially done anything wrong yet. Fuel is needed everywhere, and even though the demand for sugar, rubber, and styrofoam has dropped a little, they’re still necessary."
"…I get the gist. But if those items get discovered all at once, it’ll be a problem, so we need to spread them out. Make sure to prepare a good excuse and relay it."
"Of course. Besides, we’re not asking for anything big, right? We just want so guarantees in this rough world, both religiously and in other aspects. It’s not like we’re planning to blow anything up."
In a world like this, self-defense was essential.
Other groups were viewing them unfavorably.
Fuel was needed to run the machines... and so on.
There were plenty of excuses that could be made, and so of them were even sowhat true. If Central Park heard about this, they would probably execute everyone on the spot, but HQ was still too understaffed to control all the civilians.
At least it was possible to select those with a clear mind and use them as regular soldiers, but this was only true for those outside Central Park, not for those living within it.
This situation proved that, while Arica had extinguished the urgent flas, they still had no ti to deal with the sparks that were starting to burn inside.
"…By the way, who taught you how to make this stuff?"
"I t soone while walking around. They seed to have a grievance with Central Park, so I talked to them for a bit, and we beca friends quicker than I expected. I heard they ca from the northern part of Manhattan."
"From northern Manhattan… Hmm. I don’t have any particular suspicions, but I don’t know much other than that there was chaos there. Did you hear anything?"
"I don’t know much either. But that’s not important. They gave us the information we needed, and thanks to that, we’ve gotten a step closer to jihad. Even if they’re infidels, if they share the sa cause, Allah’s rcy will eventually co to them."
"…I’m not sure about that part, so I’ll leave it to you."
There was a mont of silence, and then they scattered, glancing around.
After so ti, soone stepped into an alleyway where no one else was present—no, to be precise, there was only the sound of footsteps.
As though the presence itself had been created out of thin air, or as if it had been superimposed on the space. As the sound of footsteps materialized, a man with a dignified appearance arrived at the spot where two people had been.
He fiddled with his Icarus Gear, and after a short ti, he exhaled lightly and added:
"…Seems like the echo doesn’t work properly since there are no CCTV caras around here. But it looks like… there are a few sneaky friends. We’ve caught sothing on our side. What about the other side?"
"This side hasn’t yielded anything yet. The rookie and the car are just moving stuff around quietly."
"I'm not sure yet. Let's approach as stealthily as possible. Even if we find solid evidence, they might deny it, so we need to clarify the route of the hidden goods, who the ringleader is, and how deeply they're involved before we take them out."
"It seems like there might even be so people stockpiling weapons outside Central Park. Damn, the work never ends. I wonder how long it will take before this boils over."
"Predicting the scope of the outbreak and controlling it is also sothing Central Park has to handle. I don’t think it’ll blow up in a day or two, so let’s focus on gathering as much information as we can."
Though these words were spoken, the Dagger Team’s voices still carried unease and fatigue.
They realized they still had far too much to do, and even when they returned to Central Park, there would be more tasks waiting for them. But there was no need to dwell on it for long.
After all, it was sothing that would happen eventually. It was Manhattan, one of the world’s most famous and populous places, so such events were bound to occur.
"…I figured it would turn out this way, but the world never lets down. Truly impressive. Doesn't it seem like those guys are trying to make into a Republican, not a Democrat?"
"That’s a bit of a dark joke, sir."
"I hope it’s a joke. After all, a coalition governnt… it’s hard to call it that with the ruling and opposition parties completely dissolved. If I want to do things my way, is that so wrong?"
"…We’re in a state of war, sir. If necessary, regardless of your political stance, we must take appropriate action."
"Mm."
In extre situations, extre choices are required.
Even though Henry, sitting in his office, had made many such choices already, the fact that he faced the sa situation again made him shake his head.
Originally a Democrat, he had supported the U.S. security policies but had no particular interest in expanding the military or increasing defense spending. The Oga Virus crisis had turned everything upside down.
Though he had been an advocate for pro-immigration policies and foreign relations, the situation he now faced as President, having been betrayed by his own policies, was a bitter one.
No, to be precise, it wasn't betrayal.
"…When the rule of law stops functioning, what else can be expected but this?"
"Did you say sothing, sir?"
"It was nothing."
Perhaps, in extre situations, cultural relativism becos aningless.
Many of the beliefs he had held without doubt were now shattered, and as he found himself in a position where he had to do whatever it took to preserve Arica, Henry felt the sharp pain of a headache.
But whether or not he liked it, he wasn’t unaware of the heavy weight he carried as the leader of a nation in crisis.
He looked over the agenda that had co up on the table.
It was the starting point of his anguish. The content was simple. It ntioned that Islamic refugees were planning sothing. If this was what had surfaced, who knew what was happening beneath the surface?
With a sigh, he added:
"I’ll leave the progress of this operation to the Dagger Team."
"Understood."
"When historians later describe this great chaos, I’m not sure what they will say about it. I don’t know what morality or ethics will remain when all this is over. It's a terrible sha."
"To restore those, a foundation must be laid. I believe it's a necessary process."
"That’s also true."
He gave his orders, and before long, a certain area within Central Park HQ designated for refugees would vanish, and the people inside would disappear as well.
Anyway, work was work, and if it had to be done, it had to be done with certainty.
Once Central Park’s manpower increased and they had more troops to maintain law and order, such situations might not occur, but that was an 'if'—sothing for the future.
Henry, still reviewing the reports, spoke:
"Is this report simply an update on the situation?"
"Yes. The operation plan will be coming soon, and a basic frawork has already been established. The main objective is to intentionally loosen security and provoke careless actions."
"I get the idea."
"So suggest that we should allow the enemies’ possession of firearms to go unchecked to ensure a more definitive response, but the opinions are sharply divided."
"How specifically do they suggest it?"
"Ah, the plan being discussed is to disguise the airdrop of military supplies outside Central Park so that the enemies can take them."
"Hmm."
A brief silence.
Henry let out a quiet breath, then added:
"Politics is a fight over how to shape public opinion. Depending on the process and results, even the most troubleso people can end up being portrayed as martyrs."
"…"
"Soldiers carry out operations, but politicians respond to the aftermath of those operations. Whether it’s to let go, deny, clean up afterward, or take responsibility..."
"Is that so?"
"I must make sure that those people don’t end up as innocent victims."
In Central Park HQ, there were just under a hundred Muslims.
How many of them would be classified as dangerous, and how many would end up in the afterlife, in the 'Al Janna'—the Islamic paradise?
Henry swiped the holographic list of their details with his hand and spoke:
"The cause will be mine to create. You all do what you must."
"Understood, sir."
As the aide left the office, Henry murmured:
"Lord, lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil…"
Whether or not that whispered prayer reached the heavens, no one could say.
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