Recruitment (4)
After months of humiliation, I have finally taken my rightful place here, fellow citizens—where I, the President of the United States, belong. The federal government will regret holding me hostage instead of killing me or infecting me with parasites. As of this moment, I declare all forces claiming the name of the federal government—the Pentagon, White House, Congress, and others based in the Northeast—as rebels.
The tide turned in an instant. With the president's return, the federal forces lost the name "federal," and the rebels claimed it for themselves. Countless rebel soldiers (formerly federal troops) surrendered to the federal government, all western missile bases were recaptured, and military superiority was reversed once more.
The rebels hastily appointed the Secretary of Defense as acting president, but public outrage erupted over the whereabouts of the vice president.
Despite the rebels' early shutdown of the internet and consolidation of all media under martial law to control information, the public now largely knew about the parasites and accepted their existence as fact without doubt. Defeat for the federal forces—no, the rebels—seemed all but certain.
"But why the hell won't these guys surrender?"
"Yeah. In Australia, the moment they lost, they all came crawling, begging for their lives."
These were the same bastards who, after occupying an entire city with over 100,000 parasites, bowed their heads the second long-term victory seemed impossible. It was baffling that they kept resisting in this situation. Did they have some hidden ace up their sleeve? Or did each parasite horde have different personalities? An ominous feeling settled in.
Either way, America could handle it from here. They'd helped conquer the west and handed the nuclear launch codes to the rightful authorities—Australia's forces had no more role to play. Staying longer might trigger that "hidden ace," trapping the Australians into helping indefinitely.
Soon after, following consultations with the U.S. president, Australian withdrawal was finalized. The president apparently chafed at Australian forces stealing the spotlight. For a superpower, relying on them after turning the tide looked bad. With the blue drug clearing from the skies and regular troops returning to the west, even the last pretext for Australians—maintaining order—vanished. Both sides agreed to a clean exit.
The moment withdrawal was confirmed, Australian troops beelined for Las Vegas, kicking off a massive party. Revelry—boozing, eating, whoring—continued right up to departure. Combat had lasted barely ten days, but its intensity and results were unmatched, leaving even the expedition commander unable to crack down harshly. As long as no major incidents or missed ships occurred, letting them blow off steam was best.
While the Australians partied, Cheol-woo and Yuri focused on another task.
"You want to adopt a child?"
"Yes. Her name is Yulia Stadtfield. She's thirteen. Orphaned, no contact with relatives."
"And your names, sir, and your wife's?"
"David Min. And Yuri Min. We're Australian citizens."
"One moment. This will take time to check."
"Take your time."
Adopting a U.S. child as foreigners was normally a nightmare of red tape, but a quiet word to the president got approval promised before departure. All basics checked out: married couple, no criminal records, psych evals clean, finances solid. But the child's consent was paramount. For three days, an evaluator shadowed her, gauging willingness and fit.
"What do you want, Yulia?"
"Yay! I wanna go with David and Yuri. I'm super duper excited to go to Australia already!"
"Uh... the evaluation starts after we leave."
"Oh. Right. We'll say it again outside. Can't forget."
"Okay."
"..."
No red flags apparent. Rescuing a mistreated orphan from federal forces for adoption by Aussie merc couple? Solid story. As long as Yulia didn't flop dramatically, sobbing she didn't want to go, approval seemed certain.
But does this kid really want to go to Australia? Cheol-woo wondered, guilt creeping in now that success was near. He'd obsessed over extracting this radar ability user, but knew little about Yulia herself. She rarely spoke first. Was he exploiting a traumatized kid's instability?
Then it hit.
"David. Yuri. You're not married, right?"
"..."
"..."
Strolling hand-in-hand with Yulia, Cheol-woo and Yuri froze. Cold sweat trickled down their necks.
"You're actually siblings. Right?"
"H-how'd you know?"
"Heard David call Yuri 'sis.' I know basic Korean."
"Koreans call older women 'noona' even if not related?"
"Didn't know that. But you just admitted it. Asking how I knew means you are siblings."
"..."
Fuck. Sharp as a tack. Cheol-woo's pupils shook—he hadn't pegged her as so eloquent. Yuri, struggling with the rapid-fire English, sensed crisis instinctively.
"Wonder what happens if I tell the evaluator tailing us?"
"...What do you want."
Yulia raised her hand silently, index finger pointing at Disneyland.
Cheol-woo blinked.
"Take me there, and I won't say a word."
"Deal. No take-backs."
Hell yeah—time to play. Cheol-woo chuckled, rerouting. He'd braced for insane demands, but Disneyland? Cheap hush money. Real cheap.
....
"Park's closing. Satisfied?"
"Not fully. But it'll do. I'd planned to go with Mom and Dad for my birthday. Late wish granted—no regrets now."
"Uh... sorry."
"Tell the evaluator that story. Evaluations are mechanical, but people judge. Tug heartstrings for better odds."
"..."
Cheol-woo's jaw dropped at the brazen script, face thick as steel plates. Way sharper than expected.
"What's your real angle in coming with us so easily?"
"Huh?"
"Not craving parental warmth. What's the true goal?"
"Oh? But I do crave it. You two seem like good parents."
"..."
Curled on Yuri's lap like a docile cat, soaking pets, Yulia drew Cheol-woo's skeptical glare as he probed her motives.
"Joking?"
"Doesn't matter. There is a reason. Seeing John Friedman's army showed me: Earth will soon be an ability user battlefield. Safest spot? Beside the strongest. That's you two— you smashed the strongest ability users I'd seen. Planned to play the quiet, traumatized little girl begging to come along. But our goals align?"
"Dropped the act?"
"Obviously. You want me too—for my ability."
"Then here's the deal: I give you sanctuary. You give me your ability. Employment contract."
"Want it in writing."
"No. Can't leave evidence. Officially, you're our daughter."
"Hmmm... Fine. Deal."
Is this okay? As Yulia and Cheol-woo bantered and shook on it, sandwiched Yuri felt weird. Haggling with a kid? Child labor charges? Something felt off.
Then—brrring—Yuri's phone buzzed.
"What?"
"Uh, stock app alert. For huge surges or drops."
"Check it. What happened?"
Yuri fumbled the app open frantically. She'd set it for extremes only.
Her eyes bulged like saucers.
"Wh-what the?!"
"240% up in one day!? Possible?!"
An unreal sum glared from the account balance.