I Have Returned, but I Cannot Lay down My Gun-Chapter 676: Central Park (5)

"...I never thought we'd meet again in a place like this, I'm sorry."

"..."

Whooshhhhhhh!

Rain poured down from the sky as if there were holes in the clouds. It was winter rain. The raindrops hit the umbrella, breaking apart and falling to the ground, soaking the earth. The rainwater flowed down the marble floor I was stepping on.

This place, Central Park National Cemetery, had better drainage than anywhere I’d been recently. It had been a lake in the park, but they drained the water to use it for drinking, then began leveling the ground and burying the bodies.

Civilians who stayed within or near Central Park could not be buried here. This place was reserved for soldiers, nurses, and high-ranking officials who had died honorably – though whether it was truly honorable, I didn’t know.

And here, in front of the newly erected gravestone with the names Jenna McKellen and Baker McKellen written on it, I placed a flower and stood crying.

How did she know where I was? That didn’t matter. The question she had left when we first met didn’t matter either. I was too melancholic to think about such things now.

Even with the sound of the rain, Lauren’s words felt like they were whispering directly in my ear.

She spoke again.

"He must have been a good person. Most of the people buried here are. And... we will have to bury many more here."

"...Is that so?"

"And I hope you won’t end up buried here. No, I hope you don’t die without even being able to be buried here."

"...Huh?"

She didn’t respond to my question and walked over to where Jenna was buried.

Bending down, she touched the gravestone with one hand and then, after showing a complicated expression I couldn’t decipher, she added something else.

It had been nearly a month since I arrived in this world, and over that time, I’d encountered many people, many squads, and now I could start to understand some of the English sentences I’d found difficult when we last met.

But that understanding didn’t provide me with any comfort.

"I heard from Regent that... but you would know better. Even though their names are carved together, Sergeant Baker isn’t buried here next to her."

"..."

"There are many names on the gravestones, but how many of those people are actually buried in those graves? How much further must the concept of an honorable death be desecrated before this Omega Virus crisis can end?"

"...That’s..."

Lauren slowly turned her head.

I also naturally turned in that direction. She scanned the patch of grass where there were no gravestones yet. Until recently, it had been the lakebed, so the grass grew unnaturally – or rather, it was just planted there.

She continued speaking.

"That area will eventually be where the first-entry operatives who died during operations and in the process of solving the crisis will be buried. The reason there’s no gravestone yet isn’t because no one has died."

"...Then?"

"Too many have died, and the count of the dead and the survivors is still unorganized. And one of my main duties is to train them and decide where they will be deployed."

Why was she telling me all this? Was it even right for me to hear this?

But I felt that the reason she was saying this so openly was that there was a purpose behind it. That’s why I quietly listened to Lauren’s words. There was nothing else I could do.

What struck me most was how calmly she spoke. It wasn’t indifference. It felt more like someone who had gone through so much grief that even that part of her had been worn down.

What had Lauren gone through to get here? What kind of experiences had she endured?

She exhaled deeply, faintly, and added.

"It’s raining, kid. Not snow, and your outfit is far simpler than when I first saw you."

"...I see."

"The frequency of skirmishes outside Central Park has been increasing, and Brooklyn has become a wasteland. People are starting to fear the winter less. How long until the repressed instincts of people explode?"

"...Then, Lauren, do you want me to become a soldier?"

"More than that."

More than that...

At that point, I vaguely realized what she was hinting at. Special forces. In other words... operators. To explain further, she meant operational personnel deployed for special forces missions.

When I heard those words, my feelings were not excitement or fear, but confusion. I had never once thought that I could do such a thing.

...It wasn’t entirely impossible. At least, with the body I had now, the way I was, it might be possible. My strength and physical capabilities were incomparable to others.

But could that alone make me capable of such a task?

And...

"...Could I bear that weight?"

Could I take responsibility for someone else’s life?

Since falling into this world, there had been moments where I helped others in life-and-death situations. For example, when escaping from Brooklyn, I carried ammo boxes for the 107th Military Police Company with great enthusiasm.

But now, what she was talking about was beyond mere physical strength and courage. It was about navigating the boundaries of life and death, using my own judgment on the front lines to clear the way.

Could I become that kind of person? And if I could, would it be too late? I had heard that converting a civilian into a squad member would take an immense amount of time and resources.

I wasn’t completely ignorant. I knew these things, but they had only been knowledge I casually picked up. However, when they became a reality, everything changed.

The feeling of choking that I had felt when I first came here and stood in front of the gravestone had long since faded. But that didn’t mean I felt good.

And then she drove the point home.

"If you learn from me, at least you won’t die like the others. But if you accept, you’ll have to do even more. That’s why Central Park called you, and why it called me."

At that moment, she rolled up her left wrist and showed it to me.

What I hadn’t seen the last time I looked at it was a strange-looking watch, and the light extending from it was engulfing her wrist. It wasn’t just a simple bright light.

With a nonchalant expression, she glanced at it.

"Prototype Icarus Gear. The very thing that caused two presidents to fall into lame-duck status and pushed one to the brink of impeachment. It was designed to break all the vicious cycles and prepare for every failure."

"That... you’re wearing that, Lauren...?"

"...I know it’s a bit late to say this, but you’re quick to catch on. I don’t mind that kind of person."

Was that so?

At that moment, everything became clear. Central Park’s decision to waste space and give me support, assigning the outstanding agent Ilich Jensen to me, allowing me to undergo numerous tests for free—everything now made sense.

...They hadn’t called me here for biological experiments. They hadn’t called me here to test if I had antibodies against the virus.

They had brought me here to rebuild the fallen, broken America, to create the spearhead that would crush all the opposing forces, disregarding all procedures and processes.

My mouth opened carefully.

"...What happens if I refuse?"

"Nothing. You’ll just have to sign a contract to keep silent about this mission for the rest of your life and stay in Central Park until the crisis is over. The people upstairs want you to... move to a different place and stop the paranoia from Manhattan."

"But I’m just strong... that’s all..."

"That doesn’t matter. We only look to the future, not the present."

...Of course, that made sense.

I quietly looked at Lauren’s forearm. She probably knew as well. I likely wouldn’t be able to answer immediately.

The sound of the thunderous rain, the vibration against my body, didn’t disturb my thoughts or my dilemma. Lauren probably expected me to think it over and answer later.

And in that moment, one question rose in my mind.

I opened my mouth.

"...So, what if I accept?"

"Well... It’s not certain, but... endless hardships and adversities will await you. You’ll be forced to kill people."

"...I guess so."

"And we’ll write a new history of America with the blood of our enemies."

Is there anyone who could express such an unadulterated truth so elegantly?

Killing people. The last time, it was to survive, but if I accepted this proposal... I’d be killing people by my own choice. Though the reason would be the same.

...I wasn’t persuaded by those words. I’m not someone who lets someone else’s words dictate my life.

But it was clear that she wasn’t trying to convince me. To be specific, what she said... helped me recall my own judgment.

And I realized something when I was in Brooklyn – when the opportunity comes, I must act. Otherwise, nothing will change.

‘I survived because I didn’t settle.’

In this world where every philosophical agenda collapses and survival becomes the only rule, the only truth might be that.

While I thought this, Lauren carefully smiled at me, almost as if she didn’t care about the words she just said.

"Next time we meet, make sure you have two answers ready. I think you know what the other one is."

With that, Lauren left.

It took a few minutes before she disappeared from my sight, and I remained standing in front of Jenna’s grave, contemplating what answer I should give... but that contemplation didn’t last long.

The answer had already been decided, and after a few minutes, I started walking.

Two days later.

I answered Lauren’s two questions, and she welcomed me with a suspicious smile.

A dreadful spring, where new growth sprouts atop the bodies of the dead, was approaching.

"...Damn, it hurts like hell... where the hell am I?"

"Don’t move. Mutants have higher blood pressure than humans, so if you get injured, you’re more likely to die from blood loss. Just so you know, this is Central Park in Manhattan."

"...What?"

"Olivia Nix Lorelei. Rank: First Sergeant... It seems the Air Force doesn’t have warrant officers. You’re from the 24th Special Tactics Squadron, Eagle Team’s lead PJ. Mutation was confirmed on January 4th... Is this the same as yours?"

Central Park HQ Restricted Zone, ICU.

Among these, the ICU wasn’t for patients suffering physical damage caused by the virus, but rather for those who had sustained major injuries for various reasons and were urgently brought in.

Compared to the virus ward, the ICU had almost no people in it. On the hospital bed, a woman who looked like an owl slowly opened her eyes with difficulty, and every word she spoke was received by someone else.

Lauren Tina C. Brenner. Currently, she was the operational commander for Central Park and one of the only three Alpha-class mutants in Central Park.

She spoke lazily.

"Rank-wise, I’m CWO-2, a Warrant Officer. Just call me Lauren. I was with Task Force Blue, Gold Squadron Alpha Team as an operations commander... I arrived a few weeks before you."

"...Ha. I thought I woke up in a strip club for a moment."

"That's what you say when you wake up? You're in good spirits. Anyway, the three of you from Eagle Team have no major injuries except fatigue, but you can't be called into the ICU. Keep that in mind."

"Shouldn’t I be grateful just to be alive? Ugh, my... my stomach... My fingers won’t move, more painkillers please..."

Without saying a word, Lauren pressed the button for the IV drip.

After a few minutes of Olivia groaning, she let out a small sigh. The painkiller began circulating through her veins, gradually numbing the pain from the bullet wound in her abdomen.

She added in a half-dazed voice, trying to tough it out.

"Damn it, I tried to handle it gently, but... it's already going to leave a horrific scar..."

"Don’t worry about that... You went to the 106th Air Rescue Squadron for a training exercise on Long Island’s outskirts, and during a critical situation, you got shot while carrying out a mission. Quite the dynamic story."

"...What about you?"

"That’s something I’ll tell you once your body’s in better shape... But for now, let me say this: as of right now, the command of you and Eagle Team has been transferred to Central Park. Keep that in mind."

"What...?"

At the same time, Lauren took out a piece of paper from her pocket and unfolded it as if it were the most natural thing in the world. It was flash paper. With a whoosh sound, the paper quickly burned up.

But at that moment, Olivia’s eyes narrowed. The contents written on the piece of paper—The President of the United States is currently staying in Central Park—and she understood why Lauren had burned it.

As if she hadn't seen anything, Olivia opened her mouth.

"...I get it. I guess I’ll be stuck here for a while... maybe until this crisis ends."

"Good. Of course, there’s another reason too. I’ll take questions at the end, but listen first... As of now, under Executive Order 51 from the President, the affiliation of Alpha-class mutants is changing.

Specifically, we’re being transferred to Icarus, an agency under the Department of Homeland Security, and the operators in that agency will be legally authorized to eliminate any hostile forces that obstruct America’s safe rebuilding.

For this reason, Icarus will equip all its operators, especially Alpha-class mutants, with the prototype Icarus Gear, which will enhance their combat capabilities. Any questions?"

"...Then, what about my team?"

"After securing real-world data on Icarus Gear, there will be further recruitment of Tier-1 operatives for Icarus operators."

The next moment, there was a chuckle.

Olivia opened her mouth.

"Now I understand why your wrist is sparkling. Should I hang some kind of bomb on your wrist now?"

"Surprisingly, the energy it’s releasing is currently destroying my wrist, but at the same time, it’s also regenerating it. Once the output balance is adjusted, scar regeneration will be a piece of cake."

"...That sounds kind of interesting."

"Looks like you like that body of yours?"

"Thanks to this body, I’ve saved teammates who would’ve died several times. Changing gender? That’s a minor issue. You’re probably feeling it too, huh?"

"Of course."

Just like she said, changing gender was a minor issue. The fact that my appearance had become more attractive and my appetite had exploded were just minor inconveniences. What I gained in return was overwhelming physical abilities.

With reflexes superior to others, I’d shoot and kill an enemy before they could shoot at my comrades from a blind spot.

With greater physical strength than anyone else, I’d quickly evacuate a wounded teammate.

With superior stamina, I could continue fighting even when my comrades were exhausted from a long battle, and if our ammo ran out, I could easily crush the enemy.

But it wasn’t just that. While others were half-asleep while moving to a safe zone, my enhanced senses, which were incomparable to my previous human form, helped me defend and plan a retreat even from sudden attacks.

Lauren and Olivia had both gone through similar experiences.

Thanks to that, we were able to save ourselves and our comrades even in a hellish world where thousands of people die every day for countless reasons.

This chapter is updated by freēwēbnovel.com.

There was no reason to dislike this body, and the newfound beauty made it even easier to convince neutral civilians to join our side.

The reasons to dislike my transformed body melted away, and at this point, I couldn’t help but view it in the most favorable light.

Lauren, with a small smile at the corner of her mouth, added.

"Anyway, welcome to Central Park... There’s a lot of work to be done. According to the medical team’s assessment, you’ll be up and running in no more than a week. I hope you can help us out as soon as possible."

"Damn it, I wonder if there’s anywhere else that hurts. I’m dying here."

"Then, please take care of it, Olivia."

"Yeah... same goes for you."

Two frail hands reached out and clasped each other.

This marked the official moment when the number of Alpha-class mutants in Central Park became three.