Chapter 81
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Translator: 8uhl
Chapter: 81
Chapter Title: Hardening Ground, Fort Roberts (4)
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Rumbling thunder.
Beneath the darkening sky, the wind grew fiercer by the minute. The raindrops resembled shattering ice. The downpour was so intense that raincoats couldn't fully keep it out. Water seeped through sleeves and collars, soaking underwear to the skin. Boots filled with water. Winter felt his body slowing down. His hands and feet were numb. It was still manageable for now, but a few more hours in this cold could be dangerous. Hypothermia and mild frostbite were real risks.
The road to 74th Street was a scene of excessive force. Diluted bloodstains littered the ground everywhere.
Mounted police charged at a gang member wielding a club in resistance. The sheer speed and intimidation froze the gangster in place, and he was knocked flat by the horse's body. His elbow twisted backward. As he writhed and spat foam, a barrage of batons rained down. Thwack, crack! The sounds of beating in the rain were brutal.
Police who seemed experienced in riot control formed a wall of shields. Stomping the ground rhythmically, they herded a group of gangsters. Under the dim lighting, their dark shadows were intimidating even to Winter's eyes. The cops didn't even urge the cornered gang to surrender. They indiscriminately fired shotguns loaded with rubber buckshot.
A cop with a six-shot grenade launcher squeezed the trigger repeatedly at a gangster fleeing toward the boy officer. Thump, click, thump, click, thump! One shot hit the back of the gangster's head, sending him tumbling. The grenade bounced into the air with a pop. Winter snatched it as it fell. It was a non-lethal sponge round.
Even so, at close range, it could kill.
The boy checked the fallen gangster's pulse by pressing on his neck. He wasn't dead. But with a head shot, they had to worry about skull fractures, cervical breaks, or brain bleeds. The grenade launcher cop hesitated with handcuffs in hand. Winter stepped back to give him space.
At least they weren't intentionally killing anyone. For resisting with lethal weapons against American police, it was relatively mild.
Should he request they ease up on the overkill?
Even the hot-headed cops would listen to the boy who'd become a hero.
Winter fiddled with his radio but ultimately said nothing and let go. There were layers of considerations. The first that came to mind was the man with the rusty knife. Back when the boy was just a trainee, the starving assassin he'd encountered at night. He'd killed him without hesitation to avoid being underestimated. To prevent more deaths in the long run.
It was the same now. Harsh suppression would serve as a strong warning to criminals in other districts. Ultimately, it would reduce casualties.
Of course, one strike for a hundred wasn't always right. It lacked fairness.
On the other hand, he felt some approval for the overkill. As long as they didn't die. To make criminals who sold drugs, people, and their own lives snap out of it would take more than ordinary measures. They were the type who got tattoos to commemorate their prison stints.
Changing people wasn't that easy.
Two people who couldn't be changed in the end came to mind.
'Father, and Mother.'
Winter froze for a moment. He realized he was angry, and was surprised at himself for instinctively trying to suppress it.
Wasn't this the world where he didn't need to hold back his anger?
He felt a writhing contradiction. The boy found it hard to pin down what he truly wanted.
The pause wasn't long. Viewers from another world were getting suspicious. Winter's thoughts usually transmitted to them as 「teletype」 strings. Not this time. Reminding himself this wasn't solely his world, he quickened his pace.
Squelching through puddles, he reloaded the shotgun's tube magazine with as many shells as it held.
A group of police had gathered in front of the first tent on 74th Street. The riot squad leader snapped to attention upon seeing Winter.
"You're here. We were waiting."
"What's the situation?"
"It's a hostage situation, for starters... The gunman is asking for you, Lieutenant."
"For me?"
Winter tilted his head. Listening closely, it was true. Amid the wind howling like wolves, a faint voice shouted in broken English. Desperate cries to bring Lieutenant Han Gyeowol. The rage was palpable from the voice alone. Winter asked the police brass.
"Have you tried talking to him?"
"We attempted a few times, but no luck. His English is so poor... It seems like all he knows is to demand you. Even that was barely intelligible with his pronunciation. And none of us speak Chinese anyway. We have a few hostage negotiators, but they're useless here."
The riot leader summarized the rest.
"The gunman is a Chinese male, estimated 30s to 40s, armed with a pistol from who knows where. Cheap one, no safety. Hostage is a Chinese woman in her 20s... Demands are just 'no one comes in' and 'bring the lieutenant.' Nothing else. He's inside the tent, so sniping's tough, and tear gas risks the hostage, so we decided to fetch you."
"Got it. I'll go in."
The boy said it so casually that the riot leader's reaction lagged. He tried to dissuade the boy officer from entering.
"Isn't that dangerous?"
"Just doing what needs to be done. Always. Danger's a problem for after."
"Hmm... We've heard the rumors, but you're exactly as described. It's a bit disconcerting."
Winter gave him a small smile with his eyes. Then he yanked the man by the collar.
Thud! A plank flew straight at the riot leader's spot in the wind, slamming into the ground and spinning. Nearby cops scattered in surprise. Realizing his near miss, the leader made an awkward face.
"Thank you, sir."
"No problem. Anyway, I'm heading in."
"It might be pointless, but be careful. You're not someone who can afford to get hurt here. If you draw attention, we'll look for other options."
The tent could be breached from all sides. Useless if the perp stayed vigilant, but it offered a slim chance if he let his guard down.
'In that case, he'd probably get killed nine times out of ten.'
Standard response to hostage-takers was lethal force.
Winter gave the police brass one last eye-smile before entering the large tent. True to a Chinese organization's turf, red decorations stood out. Recalling, this was one of the Straight Province Hall's bases. They collaborated with the Anliang Merchant Association. In front of the Chinese man screaming for Han Gyeowol the moment he saw him, Winter removed his gas mask.
"I'm here as requested. I'm Han Gyeowol. Why did you want to see me?"
The Chinese man fell silent. His face was unexpectedly mild. Droopy eyes, smile lines etched around his mouth.
'A kind face can be a villain's asset. Easy to fool people with.'
The man sized up Winter. Winter sized him up too. He gripped a very basic-looking pistol. Simple functions, but all the more reliable for it.
There was a stench of urine. The hostage woman had apparently soiled herself in fear. No wonder, with an unsafetied gun to her temple—staying calm would be weirder. Blue lips, pale face, trembling pupils. Everything marred her natural beauty. Her rare looks and revealing clothes hinted at the suffering from thugs.
Their eyes met, and her lips quivered.
"P-please... save me. I, I... w-want to live... help me..."
A guttural scream. The gunman had backhanded her with the pistol grip.
The sweaty gunman flashed Winter a warm smile.
"I know you, but you don't know me. Pleased to meet you, Lieutenant. I'm Xiong Xigui of the Zhili Tong. Hall master."
A Tong was a self-help group for Chinese in America. The Anliang Merchant Association usually called itself Anliang Tong. Originally meant mutual aid for overseas Chinese, but many were de facto crime syndicates. Prioritizing Chinese interests over American law, rooted in clannish nationalism.
'They commit crimes thinking it's natural, without any sense of wrongdoing.'
Winter couldn't feel goodwill toward them. As he'd told the Damul Prosperity Society's Makjiri before, nationalism without global citizenship was devil worship.
"Skip the time-wasters. What do you want from me?"
"Heh, impatient. We're both heads of our organizations. Let's have a civilized talk."
"Civilized talk?"
Winter deliberately made a pitiful face. He glanced at the woman. The intent was clear, and the mild-mannered gang boss sighed.
"Our strengths are unequal, so understand this much. As tolerance for the weak."
"..."
This was going to be truly pathetic. Winter dragged a nearby chair and sat across from the gunman. He rested the loaded shotgun on his knee, eyeing him at a slight angle.
How to provoke just right. He pondered, decided, acted.
"I don't know how patient I am. Save time, gangster uncle."
"You're... very different from the rumors."
A cold, quiet jab while fiddling with the shotgun. Xiong Xigui's face stiffened slightly. Winter's intent: to seem like someone who'd ditch talks anytime, sacrificing the hostage. Xigui nodded.
"Fair enough. Leading people means one face isn't enough. You need multiple for situations. Good people can't get rich, and the rich can't stay good."
Winter listened silently. Before the boy's quiet, the gangster's words sped up. Subtly, almost imperceptibly if not paying attention. Yet his eyes constantly scanned, far from careless.
"You. First, get the cops to back off."
"Think that's possible?"
"You brought people here; you can send them back."
Hearing Xigui, Winter calmly countered.
"Why me?"
"Who doesn't know you run with the cops these days?"
"That's your only reason?"
"Doesn't matter if you're behind it. Who in this fort ignores you? You're the only one who can smooth this over."
"Isn't Captain Markert a better mark for you?"
"Heh. How to compare that scum to you? He's just a petty officer now. Never trustworthy. He didn't stay loyal for gain—he threatened to side with the other if we didn't pay up."
Some exaggeration, but Winter could guess Captain Markert's dealings. Propping his chin, the boy rephrased.
"Fine. Say I get rid of the cops. Then what?"
"Our turn to pay up. Ditch the dying Triads. We Koreans have a saying: sell your wife for a good friend. Zhili Tong stands with Anliang. More to gain from us than some Triad old ghost."
"Nothing concrete."
"How about this?"
Xigui grinned playfully, groping the hostage's breast like hawking wares. Winter slowly raised his gun. Thinking he'd spotted an opening, the gang boss hastily adjusted. Using the hostage as shield. But the boy was aiming at her.
The slow aim was to make Xigui think he was the target and panic-fire.
Winter said to the hostage.
"Sorry."
"Huh?"
Boom! Buckshot slammed her left collarbone. She passed out without a scream. Limp body. Xigui was stunned. He hadn't expected a real shot at her.
Before he could react, before realizing it was non-lethal, Winter fired again. Click, boom! Xigui's face shattered.
"Arghhh!"
Spitting broken teeth, bleeding from ruptured eyes. Winter stood, hurling the chair. Crack! Splinters flew. Xigui dropped the pistol. Winter kicked it away.
Hearing the shots, the police riot squad rushed in. They assessed instantly, calling the waiting med team. The medics were prepped right outside. But they prioritized the boy officer over the gang boss or hostage.
"We were worried when we heard you went in alone. Glad you're safe."
"What are you doing? Check the wounded first."
"Ah, yes! Sorry."
Sorry to whom, exactly... Winter watched the treatment to the end.
============================ Author's Note ============================
1. Joara gave a Mister Pizza gift card for over 70 episodes.
But it's regular size.
Pizza isn't supposed to be regular, right?
The author is deeply disappointed.
2.
Q. ZERO4: @ Thanks to the author's work, I can forget the heatwave for a bit. May Azathoth's blessing be with you...
A. Thank you. May the Force be with you, ZERO4...
Q. Clinen: @ You guessed it right away, as expected from an author full of innocence. Olympics have quieted things, but this neighborhood's full of innocence too. Alleys armed with innocence and faith, haha.
A. Be careful. I hear faulty innocence circulates there.
Q. Yureongsol: @ Zombies are getting smarter. Will it turn into a human-zombie war? America might massacre them before that.
A. I think it's already war. They'll get stronger, of course.
Q. CaMo: @ If Camp Roberts with Winter is an Asian refugee hub, are other camps for Europeans or other races? US prisons are notoriously strict—curious what happened to prisoners in the ossuary world. (Feels like Walking Dead prisoners survived...) Do you watch Walking Dead??
A. First, yes. Other nationalities have separate hubs. Second, prison inmates were moved to specific sites. Third, watched up to season 5. Fun.
Q. MasterKalsolum: @Tunguska after Akbar.
A. Whisper? Whisper whisper!
Q. CryForYou: If you open a donation account, brace for 1+ chapters a day... Where do all those hands go lololol
A. The author has no arms, just ten legs. So types with feet.
Doesn't ignore the legs. They fight over which presses keys, slowing writing. Legs named left to right: Gimpo Bridge, Hangju Bridge, Banghwa Bridge, Gayang Bridge, Seongsan Bridge, Yanghwa Bridge, Seogang Bridge, Mapo Bridge, Wonhyo Bridge, Uniqlo Bridge. Headache when all volunteer for one key.
Q. Cheongryunyeon: @ Thanks for another great chapter. Want to gift hot samgyetang in this summer heat. ^_^
A. Such an innocence-filled reader. Author is thrilled.
Q. Rankes: @ Do you like army dumplings and Welch's grape?
A. Love army dumplings, not Welch's.
Q. Naroeuhu: @ What works fill with innocence?
A. The Little Match Girl's Return.
Q. ChickenHalfIsTruth: @ If Chinese gangs hurt cops with those weapons, won't Chinese face backlash? Or punishment for gangs? US loves cops, and injuries already happened ㅜㅜㅜㅜ
A. As you saw, the answer is overkill suppression.
Q. qoewh: @ Opening donation is to replenish your innocence a bit. Overdo it here and you'll wither to Amcheonhyang. Please accept our offerings via account. Besides you, your manga artist friend is human-friendly too? Share sacrifices, recover innocence.
A. My favorite offering is actually human sacrifice... no, no.
Will think slowly about donation account. :)
Q. Osin4: @ Donation account is our tribute to God-author. We get fun innocence novel thanks to you, so must repay.
A. Thank you for thinking so. Praise makes ancient greatness dance.
My innocence recharges bit by bit from comments. Donations not essential.
Keep enjoying. That's best.