Reverse Flight
The long-awaited day had dawned. At last, the Defense Bureau had drawn their blades against the linker horde that so desperately craved all-out war. Every single enforcer squad was deploying to wipe them out! It was a clear sign of their ironclad resolve not to waste even a moment dealing with those pests. This was the fate of the defeated nation(?). It was only right—the linker horde that dared charge in ignorant of the level gap, only to feel the overwhelming difference and flee in disgrace.
So what was I doing right now?...... I'd taken a job as a nurse at the enforcer unit's Temporary Garrison. Why the hell am I doing this? Well, whatever. Once again, I was out on my ass. It wasn't like they hated me or anything. Carlos excluding me from the mission was justifiable, in a way.
"You stay here. You'll just get in the way if you tag along."
No, that didn't sound justifiable at all. There was no way a cute, pretty, lovable beauty like me could be a hindrance. If that were true, the world wouldn't have idols or cheerleaders. I had no idea what "tagging along" even meant. The 1st Squad clearly had no romance in their souls. How could they utter such crude words to someone as pure and innocent as me? This had to be Carlos's revenge. He must still be seething from what I did to him last time! Otherwise, there'd be no reason to bench me! Sure, I hadn't helped in any fights so far, but you never know. Anyway.
"All done."
I was fated to wrap bandages around these drab uncles here. But why weren't they leaving? Hey, uncle. Treatment's over—why not scram?
"Something wrong?"
"No. Nothing at all."
Boring. One enforcer who'd been staring blankly at me finally shuffled off. Once a treated enforcer leaves, what happens next? A new one shows up. What kind of curse was this? Something had felt off since earlier. There were plenty of open spots elsewhere, but why did they all pile up in front of me? I glanced right. A few badly wounded enforcers getting treated. Left: same deal. Finally, the one right in front of me. No contest—my line was by far the longest? Ugh, my head hurt. They were all 30-something uncles, but the vibe was pure youth romance school comedy. The popular school nurse. A wound was your ticket to see the rumored her. Her gentle touch disinfects your injury. The sting of antiseptic melts away before her smiling eyes. And the men in her line? Battle-hardened 30-year-olds with stress wrinkles. Urp. Someone save me from this hell.
Back with the 1st Squad, it was always floral scents. Now the world reeked of shit. Logically, for enforcers' line of work, this was normal. But after holding flowers in both hands just hours ago, this was too much to swallow. I sprayed disinfectant with a hiss. Ripped off a bandage and slapped it roughly on his thigh.
"Thanks!"
"Go."
Thanks for what? Or was there something to thank? Didn't feel like it. Next customer. One dropped out of line. But it barely shortened. I locked eyes with each one in line. Not a single one met my gaze. Pathetic uncles. Brave enough to line up, but not to make eye contact. There's an old saying: "The brave win the beauty!" My line was packed with enforcers whose "wounds" were highly suspect, but not one had the guts of a true hero. Getting tedious. I wanted to spray that disinfectant like fabric remover. Blast them all till they fell apart. Or remodel this into a one-way decontamination chamber. The kind you enter once, like a dish you eat once. Wipe out everyone here...!
"What are you all doing?"
My savior arrived. He growled like a wounded beast. Who knew Carlos could rumble with such low frequencies? The enforcers awkwardly looked away. Good—they knew shame. At least no one lied about needing treatment.
"Only those with injuries stay."
Carlos's words rang out like a declaration! The horde scattered in a rush. The neat line dissolved, and the barracks instantly buzzed with people. A desperate ploy to sow chaos and let a few survive? Creatures shine brightest in crisis. These enforcers, who hadn't even chatted, synced up flawlessly. Impressive.
"Why didn't you say anything?"
What, even to me? But... something felt off. Like the school comedy wasn't over. What do you say in this spot? I'm the teacher, you're the student? Nah, not my line.
"What was I supposed to say?"
"If you'd left like usual, no one would've said a word."
What the hell? He thinks I slack off daily? Like someone who just rides in the transport, grabs a cadaver sample at the end, gets caught oversleeping by the squad leader, and skips missions because "too annoying." A bit random, but past is past. Present matters.
"Sadly, I'm a diligent person now."
At least currently.
"Even a passing dog would laugh."
"Pfft."
The pitbull terrier right next to me cracked up.
"Follow me. I'll show you our quarters."
"Yes."
While I slaved away, their lodging got sorted. Horrifying. Can't go home and sleep—what sin did I commit for this punishment? Should've crushed those linkers properly. Deep regret.
"When does the operation end?"
"Already want to go back?"
"No way."
How'd he know? Was I that obvious? I'm the doctor's closest aide. An unquestionable secret spy...! Oh, right—that setting's scrapped? Anyway. Tell me the end date. And... he's dropped the formal tone? Treating me too casually? I stared hard at Carlos. He stared right back. Staring contest?
"About a week."
"That long?"
"See? You want to go back."
Ah.
"I meant thrilled to serve that long."
"Hah."
Why trail off? Say it if you got something. Staring contest round two. We said nothing, just locked eyes. Underestimating my staring skills? I'd been staring down the doctor since birth—a staring prodigy. Keeping eyes open for mere minutes? Child's play!
"Captain! We were talking about tomorrow's op!"
Lira wedged between us.
·····Huh, sounds weird phrased like that. What even are we? Staring buddies? Not exactly noteworthy.
Night fell. Night was mafia time. "Mafias, please reveal yourselves~" Sadly, only I raised my hand. Game broken? Dozens of people, one mafia? Can't play like that. Balance is the operator's duty. Fix: mafias can freely slaughter any disliked lifeforms they can manage. That was this mafia game's rule.
The lone mafia had a dream. To be a ray of hope for enforcers aging from daily stress. To let them nap peacefully, free from linker raids. A week camping outside? In this dusty wasteland where you can't even sleep right~! So it was my job.
Raise hand, fire blood cannon at every visible lifeform. Dozens of blood streams slice the dark, piercing all in sight. No noise. No screams. A mafia's gun stays ever silent. Thick darkness never blinds me. It shields me instead—a trusty ally against the linkers.
Quietly toppling the linker horde went smoothly. That's when I realized why Carlos set a week. With linker abilities, you can't catch ones hiding underground. Sure, flipping the earth works, but it'd end the stealth op instantly. Even then, from where to where? You'd need to upend the entire east sector to claim extermination. Absurd. Linkers aren't tame cadavers—they use stealth to devour more lives. Some act like assassins, sure. But not all; these are cowards! Not proactively killing, not ambushing the unwary. They just hide and never show. Really spooked. No clue who started this mess. They can't hide forever—hungry ones emerge bit by bit...... At this rate, minimum a week!
Need a plan. To protect my golden downtime. They're terrified, so they hide as long as safe. How to draw them out? Lure with bait? Decent efficiency—they're sensitive to P.V. virus lifeforms. But with dozens of enforcers roaming, no surge in linkers. Just the inevitable ones surfacing.
Best: make the horde come out themselves...... What could do it? They're sensitive to P.V. signals. But weak ones—prey—get weak reactions now. What triggers strong? They're scared, so strong signals? But that'd make them flee......
Eureka! Like Archimedes spotting gold displacement in overflowing bathwater, I shot to my feet. Blood splattered instead of bathwater.
The answer was reverse flight. Flip the escape direction, and it becomes a charge!