Watering the Troops (Part 2)
Sometimes life is full of unexpectedly painful choices. Like hitting a random rock while riding your bike and smashing your face straight into the curb. Or getting lightly shoved while rollerblading, landing elbow-first, and ending up in a cast for two months. Call it bad luck, call it being in the wrong place at the wrong time—shit like that just happens. And right now was no different. They had boldly prepared for modern warfare, only to get hit with a counterpunch straight out of near-future combat. How the hell were they supposed to predict that?
Anyway, in the military, if twenty percent of your forces are killed or wounded, it's considered total annihilation. Fifteen percent were now either critically injured or dead, and over forty percent of the ability user PMC were combat ineffective. That in itself was a brutal beatdown. But what tore into this old general's chest even more than this miserable rout was something else. Something worse than the fact that, on orders from their own president, they had pushed planes, tanks, and self-propelled artillery forward under the guise of a combat reconnaissance mission...
"Wait, what? What kind of brain-dead asshole ordered you to shove your troops in like that? Instead of a brain, did he have a—"
"...So the guy who started a slave revolution in another world just because he didn't like it is saying this..."
It was the moment he heard those words from the professional lunatic who had held his own capital hostage because they wouldn't let him retire. Sure, the Korean military might treat him like some neighborhood uncle, and he had no reason to show loyalty to a foreign general... but having a four-star general hear "Is your superior a fucking idiot?" from a subordinate with four bars still stung like hell. Self-loathing was inevitable.
"I get that job creation and rescuing citizens come first, but if this is the result, you're practically begging for a lame-duck presidency."
Whistling cheerfully while openly enjoying someone else's misery, Kim Chomok watched the scene unfold.
"...Yeah, let's stop talking about Army One for now. We need to rescue those people first, don't we?"
The U.S. commander rubbed his face wearily. O'Brien McCloy brought up the more important issue. Even if the other side had a terrible relationship with their VIP, they still had to save the even more important VVIPs—the American citizens.
"Hmm. Normally I'd say I don't give a damn what happens to people from another country..."
Kim Chomok scratched his head, then flashed a sly grin at General McCloy.
"But as you can see, I try to live by proper social norms."
Friends should be trusted, and elders should be respected. Wasn't that the Korean standard? A very high-ranking elder had come all this way in his old age, even if he hadn't driven himself.
"Fine. In return, just grant me one request later, okay?"
"...If you can solve this, I'll grant you anything. Hell, I'll even beg if I have to. I'm asking you."
Instead of clinging to his pride, the old general showed sincerity by coming straight to the one person who might actually fix things. He even used the word "favor" despite it directly affecting his position, clearly promising to pay the price. Kim Chomok firmly grasped the hand of the old soldier who had climbed high and fulfilled his duty.
"...By the way, isn't that only five of the moral principles I know? Where did the rest go?"
"I'm not married, I have no family left, and there's no king above me. What else is there?"
"...Sibal. Good God. They called you a lone wolf, but you're just a rabid stray dog with rabies..."
The old general pressed his forehead at the insane ideology revealed even in their light small talk inside the Humvee. He took a moment to remind himself once again that this bastard had nothing to lose, which only raised his blood pressure further.
"Alright, this is Kim. He's the key personnel from the Korean military who will assist in our operation this time..."
"Huh? I'm not part of the Korean military, I was dragged here. If anyone gives me shit, I'll just strip off this uniform and start a mutiny right—"
During the ability user introductions, the KATUSA soldier acting as interpreter felt his stomach drop—and not just drop, it froze solid.
"...So this shorty who doesn't even look six feet tall is our core support? Ha!!"
A brief clash occurred in the infirmary where the American ability user PMCs, the very people they would have to coordinate with, were recovering.
"Jeffrey! What the hell are you doing to someone who came from far away to help us?! Please stop picking fights—"
Before the medical-type ability user could finish trying to stop the troublemaker whose brain was apparently filled with protein, a loud—
THUD—!!
"Huk... HUUUUK...!!"
"Oh, what did you say? I hear human speech just fine, but dog barking doesn't register well in my ears!"
THUMP!
A kick to the lower abdomen that shut down the brain faster than any sedative. After that incident...
"...Jeffrey!! You son of a bitch, everyone pile on! Get that fucking bastard!!"
Obviously, if your colleague was clutching his crotch and collapsing sideways, you had to make sure the other guy suffered the same fate to be considered a real comrade. And so, the one man and the group who were supposed to infiltrate together amicably during tomorrow's operation began fighting openly...
"Ughhh... It hurts...!! Damn it, because of that crazy bastard Jeffrey..."
While the ability users who weren't quite corpses yet twitched on the ground like a graveyard, Kim Chomok tore apart the stolen PMC flag and roared with both arms raised.
"Don't fuck with me! This is shock and awe, you pathetic mutts!!"
The U.S. Army commander and his staff covered their faces at the sight of the century's problem child howling like that.
"...The positive side is that he treats every race and gender equally."
In an attempt to lighten the mood after the truly shocking case of friendly fire, the three-star staff officer tried cracking a joke despite seeing this mess for the first time.
"Yeah, equally beaten to the ground and neutralized. You did a real fucking bang-up job there."
With their forces already reduced, now thirty percent of the remaining ability users were crawling on the floor. Who the hell could laugh at that?
"...Shit, at least they're PMCs. Thank god for that."
But in times like these, the ability to laugh is what separates the professionals from the rest. On the bright side, they could at least frame this as a clash between a private company and an individual. If it had been a direct confrontation between U.S. and Korean forces, it would've been an unburied diplomatic catastrophe.
But these guys were mercenaries who jumped into battle for money. Even if they picked a fight and threw punches, who the hell would sue over it later? Anyone living with that kind of cowardly shelter mentality on the battlefield would get nothing but humiliation instead of work.
"...Sigh. Go ask that crazy bastard how much support he'll provide... Haha. Hahahaha!!"
"...Your Excellency? Uh... You're smiling with your mouth, but your eyes are crying."
"Aigo, I'm not the type to cry easily, but even I can't stop the tears..."
General McCloy kept laughing and sobbing, unable to control his expression. It was a long day in which he finally understood why people developed bipolar disorder after receiving too much shock.
Once people fight, most of them tend to cool their heads afterward.
"...So you're saying that after pulling that shit, he showed up the very next morning to eat breakfast with us?"
Of course, the first person whose bloodline had nearly been cut off was the one who started the fight. From Jeffrey's perspective, his head was probably still hot.
"Don't you know? In Korea, if they starve you, even beating up your employer is taken into consideration."
From Kim Chomok's perspective, if other people were eating, he had no choice but to assert that his own mouth was also a mouth. When you're hungry, your physical abilities drop by default. Plus, since he had come to a U.S. military base for the first time in a while, this was the perfect chance to enjoy a proper military meal.
He usually ate bibimbap every single day, and they did provide decent snacks since it was technically a remote posting. But still...
"Shit, even that gets old after a day or two... Just because the ingredients change a bit doesn't make it not boring."
No matter how much the Korean military improved under the pressure of angry soldiers pointing guns at their backs, it was hard to match the guys who had been trying to shove calories into their mouths since World War II. The vegetable ratio was mostly potatoes, and the salad quality was pretty low, but the most important thing for soldiers—high-calorie meals centered around protein—came out buffet-style from something that looked like a camping trailer.
Pepperoni pizza, potato salad, six slices of steak with various vegetables on the first plate.
"Kya, this is it...!! This is what humans should eat! How long has it been since I last saw a proper tray?!"
The moment he arrived, he had beaten up a ton of people—including other people's precious manpower—yet Kim Chomok calmly piled his tray into a mountain and began chomping away. Anyone would want to pick a fight with him, but...
"...You're just going to let him be? Normally you'd be yelling 'Round two, you bastard!' and smashing him with the tray."
"Damn it, after getting hit yesterday, I realized it. Violence doesn't work on someone whose eyes are completely gone."
The PMCs shook their heads. They didn't want to get bitten again after disturbing him during a meal.
"Besides, we get paid once we complete the mission anyway."
"Right? We're basically paid per job."
"So if that guy handles our work for us, we're basically getting paid for free, aren't we?"
On top of that, they even had the perfect excuse of capitalism's laws. Even though he had beaten up PMCs, he had still come to help them.
"...Y-yeah? Wait, you're going to bow your head just for that?! That 'problem child' Jeffrey?!"
It might sound a bit reluctant since they usually followed his lead, but after getting beaten yesterday, he had realized one thing.
"You saw it too. When he hit me, I couldn't even see it coming. He's way faster and stronger than that damn ear-piercing command entity."
No matter how often he got angry, how arrogant his attitude was, or how annoying he was as a person—none of that mattered in the face of imminent death. That was the law of the battlefield. For these mercenaries who had crossed countless limbs and deaths to earn the money they needed, a strong person who could save their lives was a god, a king, and an absolute rule.
"Bowing your head once is a hundred times better than delivering a death notice to your family back home."
"...Hm. If you say so, then it must be true. Here's the meat. Eat up."
After Jeffrey, who had taken a huge pile of medium-rare steak, disappeared back to his seat...
CLANG!
"...Huh? What's this..."
"Mister, give me another serving of what you gave me earlier. My stomach is like this..."
An empty tray was thrust in front of the cook who had been quietly grilling steak on the iron plate.
"...Didn't you take six slices earlier? You ate nearly forty-eight ounces and you want more?!"
"Ah, why is the great U.S. military's food service so stingy! Hurry up and load it. I'm still hungry!"
In the short time they had been talking, he had somehow emptied the tray completely.
"Shit, I thought only Jeffrey would be draining me by making me grill meat, but what the hell is this..."
What could he do? Angry or not, he had to serve according to the unlimited eating rule.
"Another round of what you gave me earlier!"
As soon as the meat was placed on the iron plate, Jeffrey tore into it again, claiming he needed protein for his muscle cost.
"Whoa, you grill meat really well. This time grill it a bit less and give me a few more slices."
As soon as more meat went onto the plate that had just been taken, the starving young Asian man thrust his tray forward again.
"...Aaaargh! Everyone else is resting, so why do I have to suffer in front of this fire...!!"
The meat station cook, who had grilled one and a half times the usual amount per person, could only watch with tears of blood as the other teams rested. He had no idea he was dealing with two gluttonous ability users who were practically competing to devour everything.
Multiple Mouths
"Mmm, it truly tastes good. This too shall become energy, so send me more, my child."
"...Wow, I'm already full... Did I get a black hole in my stomach or something?"
Being able to overlap his body anywhere meant he could also create extra mouths inside his own. Yes, what looked like it was going into Kim Chomok's mouth right now wasn't actually his own meal.
"Anyway, no need for long words between us... More meat, right?"
"...FFFFUUUU...!!!"
Kim Chomok, whose own meal had already ended after the first plate, attempted another refill for his guest. He kept going until a quarter of his energy tank—which couldn't be easily filled even with decent amounts of oil—was replenished. And until the U.S. military's precious beef, enough for a whole week, disappeared in a single day.
"Mmm, I'm starting to get tired of meat now. Since I haven't eaten this well in a while, go fetch that cake over there."
"Since it looks like no one else is touching it anyway, I should pack this up and take it with me."
By the time the black rider, who showed no signs of stopping his feast, had secured a full plate of dessert and left the mess hall, it was already well past breakfast.
"...Hm. When I came in, it was still early dawn and the sun hadn't risen much..."
It was now right in the middle of the morning, almost lunchtime.
"...When the hell is that guy going to show up for the operation briefing?"
"S-Should we go look for him, Commander?"
The fact that he had completely blown off a four-star and three-star general from the U.S. Army while being completely absorbed in his eating spree was just the cherry on top.