Deployment (4)
'What a fucking monster bastard.'
Raising his hand high, the Houndmaster squeezed his eyes shut. He'd gotten caught up in some bullshit. He'd just been watching some crazy fucker unleash a heavy machine gun from atop the comm tower, but who would've thought the guy would chase him all the way here.
He'd nearly cursed out loud when his thermobaric round got neutralized by white phosphorus smoke. Did this bastard even know that the smoke itself was toxic gas, even without direct contact? A monster charging bare-skinned through the smoke without a gas mask—what the hell would he know? And what was that shit about hitting targets through the smoke just by sound? Were you a goddamn bat or something?
No matter how much top-tier gear they slapped on, they couldn't touch the guy.
"What are you doing here?"
"That's what I want to ask you."
"I don't feel obligated to answer. If you want to keep your lives, you'd better answer honestly."
"..."
Peering down the barrel, the Houndmaster ground his teeth. This wasn't some soft pushover. The guy had zero hesitation about pulling the trigger on people. Suits or soldiers, didn't matter. No room for amateur mind games.
"I'm surviving with my team. Not on any special mission."
"How do I believe that?"
"Scan our heads with an X-ray camera if you want. We're not fighting under parasites."
Cheol-woo tapped his bag, and Yuri in her NewTontonMan suit grabbed a portable X-ray camera. Scanning one by one, there really wasn't a single parasite. So they weren't with the Federation forces?
"Then why are you lurking around here? Why not join the base?"
"We're mercenaries, not soldiers. No obligation to serve under Colonel Douglas."
"Now you will. You got caught shooting at me, so no civilian treatment. Prisoner treatment might be possible."
"I refuse."
"What?"
"Just let us go. Please."
"..."
Cheol-woo was momentarily stunned by the sheer audacity. After throwing the first punch and then surrendering, this was his line? Just let you go?
"We're on a special mission right now."
"Keep talking."
"Presumably, the White House has lost the nuclear launch codes. With the Federation forces controlling the president and missile command, there's no reason they wouldn't use nukes—unless they've lost the launch method."
"So?"
"Updating the codes requires congressional approval. But Congress is dissolved, the Capitol's blown up, their systems are down—no way to update. The only valid codes were on a nuclear sub on deep-sea ops, but two weeks ago it sank to some massive underwater monster. And we're survivors from that sub."
"You gotta be fucking kidding—"
"This is the biscuit with the nuclear launch codes."
"..."
The Houndmaster pulled a black card from his inner pocket. It bore the embossed seal of the United States.
Cold sweat trickled down Cheol-woo's neck. No whiff of bullshit in the eyes glinting through the helmet.
"Your choice now. Kill me and deliver it to Colonel Douglas. Or let me go. Pick one."
"Why not hand the codes to the colonel?"
"If I give them to him now, he'll control both the missile silos and the codes. Means he can launch nukes solo. That's power way beyond Colonel Douglas's authority. We'll only hand it to a trustworthy representative of the United States."
"Who's that?"
"The President and Secretary of Defense. Assuming neither's infected or under duress."
"..."
Fuck, this guy's a pain in the ass. Cheol-woo clicked his tongue. Too much evidence for a bluff, scenario too detailed, attitude consistent.
The easy play was tie them all up, hand to Douglas, confiscate the codes himself. But if it was real? Then he'd be stuck hunting some "trustworthy" figure to pass them to.
His head suddenly throbbed.
"Heard Australian forces were deployed. You from there?"
"..."
"Figured. Looks like you should take this biscuit. Even our whole squad struggles against one ability user— we'll lose it to the enemy before reaching the Prez or SecDef. Your survival skills seem way better, so hold onto it and—"
"Hey, hand that over and I'll shoot you."
"Shoot me. Then take it."
"Whoa whoa! Stop right there!"
"Take it! I'm sick of this shit!"
Ignoring the barrel in his face, the Houndmaster strode forward, shoving the card at Cheol-woo. Cheol-woo backed away in disgust, jamming the gun into the guy's chest, but the Houndmaster wouldn't quit.
The bizarre sight of them wrestling to shove the nuclear codes on each other left Yuri and the mercs baffled, exchanging silent glances.
After a long scuffle, Cheol-woo overpowered the Houndmaster with raw strength, slamming him to the ground and stuffing the card back in his pocket. He'd been tempted at first, but seeing the desperation to offload it soured him. This thing was bad news—gut feeling screamed it.
"Fuck this! I can't deal! Two weeks from the West Coast and we're barely here—squad nearly wiped already! We'll run into Feds and rebels nonstop—ain't no way we survive to meet the President!"
"Not our problem. Yours. Seems like noble shit—keep at it. Now fuck off."
Cheol-woo hauled the Houndmaster up and kicked his ass hard. This was the type that'd drag you into headaches. Spy thriller about keeping nukes from greedy hands in the shadows? Let them film that themselves. Cheol-woo didn't give a shit about it or the outcome.
"Remember this! If the Feds snag the codes and nuke the LA base, that's on you too!"
"Why the fuck's that my fault, you lunatic? Quit your cursing and—"
"What's wrong?"
"Quiet. Hold."
Cheol-woo's body froze; everyone shut up as silence fell. Hackles rose, that eerie watched feeling prickling. But in this dense forest, nothing to watch them?
Puzzled, Cheol-woo's gaze drifted skyward. Clear blue, no helos, drones, nothing. Not the sky—higher?
His pupils shook as he spotted a shining pinpoint like a morning star. No—a star?
Then...?
"Incoming artillery! Down!"
"...!?"
A sharp whine cut through the breeze. Not gunfire—bullet before sound. Sound first meant indirect fire: mortars.
Dive? No—diving gets you killed. Cheol-woo shoved Yuri off the cliff and leaped after.
Right then—whoooosh—shells screamed in, airbursting. Soldiers shredded into limbs and meat in an instant.
"Gah! Ack! Guh...!"
Just light scratches? While Cheol-woo and Yuri checked wounds below, the Houndmaster and two soldiers tumbled down after.
Finally hitting bottom with a thud, the Houndmaster looked far from lightly hurt: sprains, fractures, lacerations, wood shards embedded. But he stood anyway. His two soldiers limped behind.
"What about your guys up top?"
"Dead. Or dying soon. Move. Gotta clear this spot."
"..."
More shells rained, black smoke engulfing their old position. From the north—opposite LA base. Enemy fire, not friendly. Weaker than Aussie 105mm HE, so mortars? Enemy close then.
"Mortar attack. Head back to base. We'll survive somehow."
"Back? Hell no. Finally found the enemy—time to hunt."
"...What?"
No hesitation: shing—sword drawn, click—guns racked, Cheol-woo and Yuri heading north. Bewilderment flickered in the Houndmaster's eyes. We just got ambushed? And you're counterattacking?
Stunned speechless, then he remembered their Hong Kong antics. Ah—makes sense. Consistently batshit.