Fire and Ash
The first thing I remember is fire. Scorching flames. Explosions. And the deafening roar that threatened to burst my eardrums. It was a battlefield where surviving itself felt like a miracle. The sky, completely dyed hazy by ash and gunpowder smoke, held no trace of life anywhere. Bodies here, bodies there. Occasionally, carbonized lumps burned so black they were indistinguishable from the debris. In that sense, I was different from them. The mere fact that I could witness this hellscape, this slaughterhouse, was already proof that I was alive. Different from those who had died. Strictly speaking, I wasn't the type that died easily. I was a reinforced human, reconstructed and molded solely to survive and to kill. Would I really disintegrate in midair from a single lead bullet worth tens of billions? To be more precise, simply surviving wasn't my only major advantage. I was closer to a flying heavy tank than infantry. The comparison itself was already severely off the mark. When I came to my senses, I was soaring through the sky, and I could feel the three-meter steel-like armor enveloping my entire body. Senses expanded beyond physical limits. All that metal, those armaments moved as if they were my own body. Weaponry directly connected to my nervous system. Literally created for the purpose of war, of fighting….
The noisy comms mixed with static, the vibrations ringing from the metal mass on my back. It was a place where one wrong move could cost your life, but for some reason I felt little emotion. Naturally, because I had spent my entire life here. This was my job. My purpose.
I never volunteered to become a reinforced human. I simply came to my senses one day and found myself like this. From then on I erased those thoughts and simply continued to survive without breaking down. I was a Hound. People like us were called the corporations' hunting dogs, Hounds. Reinforced humans who handled heavy weaponry that normal human bodies couldn't wield as if it were their own limbs. The protagonists of the Reconstruction War. In the war between corporations and nation-states, I was the corporation's hunting dog.
- "...!"
Amid the battlefield's explosions, murky human voices drifted through. It wasn't the same comm as before. These were clearly human voices. And the enemy was visible to my eyes as well. Beyond the line, government infantry had spread out wide and were engaging. Engaging? But the only force on this side was me. Having broken through the limit line, it meant I had flown alone into the heart of enemy territory. Nevertheless, they were in panic, screaming, losing all discipline, and firing wildly in my direction. It had reached the point where fear of a single individual couldn't even enter their minds. But I understood. This was what a Hound was.
Thud. The moment I landed on the ash heap, fragments scattered in every direction with a massive impact. The weight exceeding two hundred kilograms of armor had delivered a mass bomb from the far end of the sky. In the thickly rising dust, I deployed the Fang on my back. Among the weapons Hounds handled, it was a special model manufactured and maintained exclusively for them. In my case it was a massive platform dangling with dozens of micro-missile pods. Nickname: Ash Crow. Whether the opponent was one or many ultimately became meaningless before the sheer deployable volume.
- "All troops—"
Before the one holding command could even shout, the surroundings transformed into a sea of fire. Dozens, hundreds of grenades, missiles, and bombs flew upward scattering smoke like wings and hammered the earth with heavy thunder. No shapes remained. Not tanks. Not people.
Routine. This was what I did. Something I did as naturally as breathing.
"…."
Suddenly a tank shell flew in and struck my armor, but it failed to leave even a scratch. I reached through the rising smoke and poured flames from the muzzle beneath it. The world grew quiet once more. And….
….
I groaned. My whole body was drenched in cold sweat. I rose from the sticky sofa with a nasty feeling. What the hell was that all of a sudden….
I looked around the quiet room. In the unbearable silence I sat panting, drenched in sweat, staring blankly. It seemed I had had a bad dream.
"Even though it's a good day, it leaves a dirty aftertaste…."
Wasn't today the day I could finally hold a gun again after so long? It was something I had longed for. I couldn't ruin the mood for no reason. I stripped off every sweat-soaked sticky garment and took a cold shower. It was an exaggeration, but afterward I felt almost reborn. I wrapped myself in a towel, stepped out, and picked out some soft clothes from the hanger. Then I gathered the familiar weapons I knew by heart.
"Good."
Time to head out.
I tightened my shoelaces. Today was a special day. I took a deep breath and stepped through the door.
Contact from those guys came exactly one week later. They said it was delayed because of the recovery of the subordinates I had turned into minced meat that day—the ones who still had all their limbs—and the replenishment of additional personnel. Truthfully, the detailed circumstances were none of my business. It was fortunate enough that they hadn't been oxidized into bloody chunks alongside a landmine while doing something stupid. Anyway, I was currently moving toward the rendezvous after receiving his call.
The air is murky.
As I walked the streets I glanced around. It was hard to believe this clean, orderly sight belonged to a civilized country right after the flames that had swallowed the world. Of course, that was only the outer shell. The inside was far from such splendor. As I walked I frequently saw drunkards already wasted in broad daylight or people collapsed on the pavement, steeped in drugs. Though buried beneath the noise of passing cars, gunshots could occasionally be heard from deep in the alleys. Unemployed civil servants gathered in groups hurling curses at one another. Executives and presidents riding bulletproof limousines passed by them mockingly.
Since the entire social system was being overhauled, it seemed this level of chaos couldn't be avoided. Considering it was right after the war, this might actually be considered relatively good. Come to think of it, the reason it's this stable is largely because one side held such an overwhelming advantage that the theater never expanded.
Indeed, they were the ones who had operated Hound units themselves. The national side couldn't even guess at the technology and had barely clung on, decades behind. In a way, the nation losing to the corporations might have been an inevitable future.
I still don't understand what they were thinking, dragging a war out for over a decade with that kind of power.
Well, what's good is good. There was no need to strain my poor brain over such complicated matters. It's something that has nothing to do with me anymore.
I walked past a civil servant spitting phlegm at the rear of a limousine that had already driven off. After walking quite a distance, I found the gas station stuck on the city's outskirts. He was waiting in the bar behind the station.
"Hey, you came, sis."
Without hesitation I drew the gun from inside my coat and fired at his feet.
"You rotten—!! Why again?!"
"If the word 'sis' comes out of your mouth one more time, I'll cut your tongue out."
"No, what the hell is so wrong with—"
I silently pulled out the detonator. The guy's growling momentum died down immediately.
"So these are the maximum numbers you could gather?"
"Ah… yeah."
I scanned the people gathered in the bar. Thanks to the gunshot I'd just fired, everyone was on edge, eyes glaring. But seeing their boss cowering, they didn't seem to know what to do about it. I fired another round into the chair of the man trying something funny from my blind spot. Guys like these were difficult to handle unless you were someone who could properly wield 'fear'—someone bundled with boldness and charisma. Since my appearance invited nothing but underestimation, a hardline approach was necessary.
The woman who had been rising with a liquor bottle flinched and sat back down obediently. The noisy atmosphere of the bar sank in an instant at my entrance.
"Good. The mood seems properly set now."
"Is this what they call shit discipline?"
"Ahem. Not shit discipline. Just discipline."
The guy stared at me with a fed-up expression for a moment. But he soon regained his senses, cleared his throat, and drew everyone's attention.
"Alright, since everyone's here, we'll move out soon. You all know who we're hitting tonight, right? We should at least get a clear look at the opponent's face before we go!"
They at least had some semblance of organization, which was nice. At least they didn't seem like a complete rabble of street thugs. Anyway, what this gangster crew was aiming for was to catch a backroom deal between a military corporation and another organization. To be exact, they planned to intervene in that deal and snatch the goods midway.
"According to a reliable source, while the corporations are developing new-model Fangs, they're disposing of all the old ones. One of them leaked through an insider, and tonight the suited men from the Jin Family are supposed to receive it."
New Fang, huh. I wondered what they planned to use Fangs for after replacing the Hounds. Unless they'd found something even more powerful and safer than Hounds, I couldn't guess.
I have no clue.
But in the end it wasn't my concern right now. I wasn't affiliated with the military anymore, and I wasn't even a Hound anymore to worry about my next paycheck. Whatever the corporation people did, they could handle it among themselves.
Before I knew it the surroundings had filled with loud cheers as they charged their fighting spirit. The guy seemed to have recharged his confidence from the responding underlings; his expression had brightened.
Watching the organization members gather their weapons and swarm outside, I kicked him hard in the calf.
"I'm only watching from outside. I told you before, didn't I? Until the operation succeeds, I have nothing to do with you."
His bright face immediately turned flustered.
"Wait, weren't you helping? Then why the hell did you come all the way here?"
"Of course I'm not just going to sit back and watch. If it's a truly unavoidable situation, I'll provide fire support from where you can't see me."
"…Really?"
"Of course."
Above all, my own safety was the top priority. I had no loyalty or responsibility toward these guys. Our relationship was one where we had to watch our backs every single moment.
"Well, fine. I'll do my best. If that's what it takes to satisfy you."
"If you want another hole in you, keep talking like that."
"…You really don't take a single joke."
I followed him out of the bar as he gathered his tools. The once-noisy bar the organization members had used now held only desolate air. Overturned glasses and snacks littered the place.
…Hmm.
For some reason I felt an inexplicable nostalgia at the sight. I stepped out of the bar.
Dozens of vehicles scattered in every direction so they wouldn't look unnecessarily suspicious. He and I rode in one car, but he kept talking to me the entire way, which was extremely irritating.
"What's your name? I'm Darius. Darius."
"……."
"At least knowing each other's names while working would make communication easier, right?"
I stared at the city scenery flowing past the window and finally spoke.
"…Asa."
"Asa?"
"Yeah. Asa."
"Unique name. It sounds familiar though."
"You call it unique yet say you've heard it often. What kind of contradiction is that?"
"I was a soldier, you know. Up until five years ago."
And Darius fell silent. I smiled with satisfaction at the now-quiet atmosphere and returned to looking out the window. The car was filled with stifling silence, but my heart burned hot with excitement regardless. I wondered if it was all right to feel this thrill. But now such things didn't matter. If I liked it, what could be done? I had simply come to my senses one day and found myself caught up in all this. I decided to think of it that way. Wasn't this how I had lived until now? It had been the same on the battlefield, and it had been the same since childhood. While I was suppressing that excitement in my heart, Darius spoke again.
"Which outfit did you belong to? If you're a Hound, there's the corporation you were attached to, right?"
I shot him a slightly annoyed glance. If I stayed silent he would probably read the mood and stop talking. But for some reason I felt like answering. It wasn't bragging about military exploits—just vague recollection.
"North American Integrated Front corporate forces."
"Ah, I see. North America means the northern front?"
"There was only that front in North America."
Once again conversation between us died. After that we exchanged no words for a long while. How long had we driven? By the time the sun began to set and shadows stretched long, we had arrived at the entertainment district deep in the city.
"Wait here until ten tonight. The moment you spot a blue Mercedes, we move in immediately."
"Yeah."
"Don't you need to get into position? I mean, you said you wouldn't join the assault but you'd provide fire support."
"Ah, right."
I rummaged through the bag he had brought and pulled out a suitable firearm. He looked at the gun I chose and panicked, trying to stop me.
"Wait, I know you were a Hound, but with that body if you fire something like that your shoulder will be destroyed! The adjustments aren't done so the condition isn't normal either!"
"Is this the time to worry about me? I know what I'm doing, so you people just do your part properly. Leave my side to me and trust it."
"…Yeah, if you insist."
He dug through the bag and took out dozens of bullets larger than my palm along with five heavy magazines. Then he dumped the whole pile into my arms. Already struggling under the weight of the firearm alone, I was nearly buried beneath the heap.
"No need to explain how to use it… Since you said to trust you, I can trust you, right? You're not suddenly going to shoot us in the back, are you?"
"At least not until a Fang comes into my hands."
"And after it does?"
"Then… well."
I left the answer vague. It was silent pressure that I would decide based on his attitude. If he acted like shit, we all got fucked. If we got along peacefully, nothing would happen.
"If we're going to keep working together after a successful operation, this level of trust is no good."
"Think whatever you want. How do I look in your eyes?"
Darius stopped talking and looked me up and down. Then, without another word, he gathered his equipment and stepped outside.
At least say something about it.
I sighed and grunted as I gathered the things Darius had handed me. Then, practically dragging the load, I moved to my position. And not long after, the vehicle Darius had mentioned arrived in front of the large club where we waited.