Korea University (5): A Commander Must Always Stay Cool-Headed
A commander must always remain cool-headed. One judgment can mean life or death for your comrades. That's why, sometimes, they make the cruel choices everyone else shrinks from.
Thump! She felt her heart pounding for the first time in ages. It wasn't because of the burly man standing before her, or the terror of the pistol shoved in her face.
"Gah!"
No, because the man who'd been eyeing her with that creepy stare had just taken a kick to the groin from his comrade beside him, followed by a finishing blow to the head.
"Hey... Conel."
"Yes?"
The long black-haired woman—Shai—who'd kicked the man's crotch and was now shaking off her foot in disgust, turned to her.
"That guy for real?"
"You mean B2?"
Meeting Shai's eyes, Conel first secured the man's pistol.
"Yeah, B2. Our hacking idiot stripped his records clean, and he's just some student on paper, right?"
"Hm."
"You saw it just now, didn't you? When we shoved the gun in his face, he was shaking like a little mouse."
Conel felt a twinge of displeasure and was surprised at herself. Her teammate's thinking wasn't wrong, after all.
She composed her emotions and spoke calmly. "No. That was an act."
"An act? It seemed pretty..."
"Shai, think carefully. A civilian faced with a gun either squeezes their eyes shut or averts their gaze in fear."
"...Yeah, probably."
"But what about B2? He put on a show of fear while coolly assessing his opponent. He was even plotting to seize the pistol in a counter-move."
Shai, standing beside her, still didn't grasp B2's true value. Conel knew what B2 had intended from across the room.
If she hadn't intervened, B2 would have taken out every enemy in sight.
"But you're sure he's on our side?"
"Don't worry. We've already had a thorough talk."
And with that, she became convinced. From B2 swiftly dispatching one man on the cafe's first floor, to his composure in assessing the surroundings when anyone else would have fired the pistol—waiting for allied support.
This ordinary-looking guy we'd met today was exactly the talent we'd been waiting for, hoping for.
The civilian who'd bolted outside and gotten himself killed would draw the terrorists here any second. But the two people I'd thought would charge out of the cafe right away just stood there calmly.
Instead, they looked at me.
Shai, with the captured MP5 submachine gun slung over her shoulder, spoke up. "So, where to?"
"Hm..."
Their gazes subtly shifted to me, as if expecting my answer.
...Guess the navigation comment wasn't a joke.
I thought it through simply. The main gate was too risky, so the back gate it was. The closest spot from the cafe's back door was the Liberal Arts Building.
"...How about the Liberal Arts Building?"
"Same thought here. That sounds good."
"Alright, let's head there."
The two moved toward the back door as if my words were the signal. But once they reached the wall, they just stood there, not going out.
Conel met my eyes as I followed and said, "It's fine. We'll cover you."
"Uh..."
Me first? Better than standing around to die, so I cracked the door open.
"Die!"
A pistol suddenly whipped out. No time to scream in shock. On reflex, I snapped my foot up.
Thwack!
Luckily, my toe clipped the pistol's grip. A heavy thud followed as the man's arm jerked upward violently. His head popped into view right then, so I smashed my fist into his jaw.
Thud!
The man crumpled. Thankfully, no other terrorists outside the door besides him.
"B2, that was reckless."
"Huh?"
"If the enemies have the building surrounded, wouldn't it have been better to scout first?"
I'd totally misread it. They hadn't been telling me to go ahead alone.
Shai clapped my shoulder lightly and took point. "Conel, you see that reaction time? He anticipated an enemy and struck. Who else would think to kick a gun away like that?"
"Was that it? My apologies."
"...It's fine."
I forced a neutral expression and stepped forward. This time, I hung back, pistol at the ready, scanning our surroundings as naturally as I could from behind them.
That's when I heard it. Tires rolling. A car.
"Enemies!"
"Run!"
Once spotted, speed beats caution. The downhill slope made my legs ache like hell, but I gritted my teeth and kept up.
But humans can't outrun cars. Black vehicles closed in fast. A window rolled down on the lead one, a rifleman leaning out.
"Behind us this time?"
Despairing at my rotten luck, I skidded to a halt and aimed my pistol.
"Hoo..."
Bang!
Exhale halfway, hold, squeeze. A sharp vibration buzzed through my hand, the bullet ripping the air.
I'd targeted the front tire.
Boom!
Hit it, but one pistol round only slowed them. The car jolted into a pothole on the downhill, losing control.
Screech!
Rubber shredded on asphalt as it swerved sideways, smashing into a street tree and flipping end over end.
"Nice shot, B2!"
"Huh? Me, nice!"
"Not done yet! More coming!"
Flames licked the engine of the wrecked car. Smoke billowed as the next vehicle burst through.
I'd fallen behind the others during the shot, so I sprinted forward without looking back.
"Huff! Pant!"
Was the Liberal Arts Building this far when I was in college? My lungs burned as the building finally came into view.
Blessedly, the two waited at the entrance. The moment my feet hit the steps, our pursuers appeared.
They raised their guns, ready to engage.
"W-wait, let's just get inside first!"
I flashed back to that guy's death at the cafe. Standing exposed like this felt like my head would explode any second.
But something else blew up.
BOOM!
The car charging toward the Liberal Arts Building entrance vanished in a massive blast. Flames and a fierce wind gust rushed the doorway.
Conel, shielding her face with her arm, glanced at the debris, then met my eyes.
"I see."
"Huh?"
"You knew when the police surveillance net would activate? Korea's response was much faster than I anticipated."
In terror-level incidents, Albatross military drones deploy. They dominate the skies over the target, collecting data on every moving vehicle, person—everything. With only five shots, they can drop bombs on cars or terrorists.
From Conel's explanation, that exploded car had been shredded by one.
"If we hadn't trusted you and engaged, we'd have been in danger too. My judgment error."
"Conel, enough—inside, now."
Shai shoved the reflective Conel into the building. I followed, thinking: I've only got one life—hell, two wouldn't be enough. I had to find a way out alive.
We headed to the second floor. From Chasefield X, I knew mid-levels were safer than the top with drones overhead.
"Short break. Air surveillance is up—they won't move easily."
"I'll grab some water. Throat's parched from running."
During the brief rest, I sat on the floor by the wall, out of sight from the windows, letting the cool surface lower my fevered body temp. My head cleared a bit.
...How the hell did this happen?
I called out to Conel, quietly scanning outside from a distance.
"Conel."
"Yes?"
"Why'd you want to meet here? There... other places, right?"
I couldn't say outright that safer spots existed. First, I needed to know why she'd dragged me into this mess.
Conel answered smoothly, like it was routine. "No one we'd scouted before believed us without a firsthand demo."
"Scouted?"
"You agreed to join this op, didn't you? Said you wanted back in on missions after a long hiatus."
I dredged up the memory of first hearing this from her in Chasefield X. Private rooms run on user mods, but verified ones got repetitive.
One day, I told Conel I wanted fresh ops. She said if so, sub in for our gig...
"Ah."
"Something wrong?"
"N-no, nothing."
My odd reply drew her over. She sat right beside me, tapping the floor with her finger.
"If the verification felt unpleasant, I apologize."
"Hm?"
"With your skills, you'd expect a direct invite after three years. But... we have procedures..."
Her words faded out midway. To think I was the reason for this chaos...
By the time she finished, I mumbled it was fine.
"B2?"
"Yeah? What?"
"I asked how you hid those three years."
"Three years?"
Her baffling question puzzled me, but she continued. "Your blank period. Our broker searched months—nothing. All I know is three years of Chasefield X logs."
Conel was purely curious about my unemployed gap. Like an interviewer asking a jobless guy, "What've you been doing for three years?" I hemmed and hawed.
She paused, as if realizing something. "It's fine. Classified? No need to say. That was... what do you call it in Korean, 'joke-eating'?"
"Uh..."
From our chats so far, this was the Conel I knew from Chasefield X. A solid gamer, my friend.
I resolved to come clean with the truth.
But seeing my tense face, she added, "B2, you've got your burdens too. We're technically criminals to the Korean government. Our entry was illegal."
"Huh?"
"Just associating with us could mean interrogation—or worse, torture, murder."
...Our game friendship was all smoke and mirrors. I shelved the truth for now.
"Oh, and..."
As Conel started to say something—
Sudden static crackled loudly.