Chapter 81: Chapter 81

The Hardening Earth, Camp Roberts (4)

The rumble of thunder echoed in the distance.

Under the twilight sky, the wind grew harsher. Raindrops resembled shattered ice. Such heavy rain couldn't be fully blocked by the raincoat.

Water seeped through the sleeves and neck, soaking the underwear. Water pooled inside the combat boots as well.

Gyeo-ul felt his body's response becoming somewhat sluggish. The sensations in his hands and feet dulled.

It was still manageable, but a few more hours in the cold could be dangerous. There was a risk of hypothermia and mild frostbite.

The path to 74th Street was a scene of excessive force. Diluted blood was splattered everywhere.

Mounted police charged at a gang resisting with clubs. The gang member, frozen by the speed and intimidation, was struck by the horse's body and fell. Thɪs chapter is updated by novel✶fire.net

His elbow was bent backward. As he drooled and howled, a beating with a three-section baton ensued.

Thwack, thwack! The sound of people being hit in the rain was vicious.

The police, likely accustomed to riot suppression, formed a wall with their shields. As they stomped the ground, they drove a group of gang members into a corner.

Under dim lighting, their shadows were intimidating even to Gyeo-ul. The police didn't even urge the cornered gang to surrender.

They indiscriminately fired shotguns loaded with rubber bullets.

A police officer wielding a six-shot grenade launcher repeatedly pulled the trigger at a gang member fleeing towards a young officer.

Thud, clack, thud, clack, thud!

A gang member hit in the back of the head collapsed. The grenade, making a thunk sound and bouncing in the air, was caught by Gyeo-ul.

It was a non-lethal sponge grenade.

Yet, at close range, it could still kill someone.

The boy pressed on the neck of the collapsed gang member to check his pulse.

He wasn't dead, but the impact to the head raised concerns of skull or cervical vertebra fractures or brain hemorrhage.

The police officer with the grenade launcher hesitated with handcuffs. Gyeo-ul stepped back and yielded space to him.

Whether to be thankful that they're not intentionally killing anyone is uncertain. For the outcome of resisting American police with lethal weapons, it was a decent level.

Should excessive force be requested to be restrained?

Even police whose tempers are high would listen to the words of a boy who had become a hero.

Gyeo-ul toyed with the radio but ultimately put it down without saying anything.

There were considerations on various levels. The first thought was of the man with the rusty knife.

Back when the boy was merely a volunteer, he had encountered one hungry assassin at night.

Killing him without hesitation was to prevent being underestimated. It was to avoid further killings as a result.

The same applied now. Severe suppression would serve as a strong warning to criminals in other areas. Ultimately, sacrifice would be reduced.

Of course, excessive force is not always justified. It might be unfair.

On the other hand, there was a mentality that affirmed excessive suppression. As long as they didn't die.

To make criminals, who sell drugs, people, and even their own lives, come to their senses, mild measures wouldn't suffice.

Aren't they the type to commemorate incarceration with tattoos?

Changing people is not that easy.

Two people he couldn't change finally came to mind.

'Father, and Mother.'

Gyeo-ul paused momentarily. It was because he realized he was getting angry, and was surprised by his instinctual attempt to suppress it.

Wasn't this world supposed to be where he didn't have to suppress anger?

He felt a wriggling contradiction. The boy found it challenging to clearly understand what he truly wanted.

The pause wasn't long. Observers from different worlds were finding it odd. Usually, Gyeo-ul's thoughts were delivered to the audience through "Teletype" strings.

As he remembered that this wasn't just his world, he hastened his steps forward.

Splash, splash, he walked on, loading the shotgun's tube magazine with the rounds he had spent.

In front of the first tent on 74th Street, a group of police had gathered. The riot unit commander snapped to attention when he saw Gyeo-ul approaching.

"You are here. We've been waiting for you."

"Well, it's a hostage situation... The hostage-taker is asking for you, Lieutenant."

Gyeo-ul tilted his head. Listening attentively, it was true. Amidst the wind howling like a wolf, a faint, poorly spoken English voice could be heard crying out.

The scream demanded Lieutenant Han Gyeo-ul to be brought. Just by the voice, one could sense he was on edge. Gyeo-ul asked the police officer.

"Have you tried talking to him?"

"We've attempted several times but failed. His English is so poor... It seemed that's all he knew how to say, just to bring Han Gyeo-ul. It was hard to understand because his pronunciation was terrible. And none of us here speak Chinese. We have negotiation experts, but they're not helpful."

The riot unit commander further summarized the situation.

"The hostage-taker is presumed to be a Chinese man in his 30s or 40s, armed with a pistol from who knows where. It's a cheap one without a safety. The hostage is a Chinese woman in her 20s... The only demands are that no one should come in and to bring you, Lieutenant. That's it. Being inside a tent makes sniping infeasible, and using tear gas might risk the hostage's life, so we decided to call you, Lieutenant."

"I understand the situation. I'll go in."

The boy spoke so lightly that the commander's response was slightly delayed. He tried to dissuade the young officer from going in.

"Wouldn't it be dangerous?"

"I'm just doing what needs to be done. It's always been that way. Danger is something to worry about afterward."

"Hmm... I've heard many rumors, but you truly are just as described, which is surprising."

Gyeo-ul gave him a playful eye smile and suddenly pulled him by the collar.

A wooden board, flying at wind speed, zipped past the place where the commander had been, hit the ground, and spun wildly.

Surprised, the surrounding officers scattered. Realizing he had narrowly avoided disaster, the commander had an awkward expression.

"Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Never mind. Anyway, I'm going in."

"It might be a meaningless statement, but take care. You're not someone who can afford to get hurt in places . While you're drawing attention, we'll search for other solutions."

The tent could be lifted on all sides. Although it might be of no use if the perpetrator was vigilant on all sides, if he could be lured into carelessness, there was a slight chance.

'In that case, they'd likely shoot to kill.'

The standard response to a hostage-taker is to shoot to kill.

Gyeo-ul gave another quick smile to the police officer before entering the large tent.

As expected of a Chinese organization's space, red-toned decorations were prominent. Looking back, this was one of the bases of the Zhili Association.

It had a cooperative relationship with the Anliang Commercial Association. As soon as he saw Gyeo-ul, the Chinese man yelled to bring him in.

"I came as you wanted. I am Han Gyeo-ul. Why did you want to see me?"

The Chinese man fell silent. Surprisingly, his appearance was mild. His eyes drooped, and the traces of a frequently worn smile lingered in the wrinkles at the corners of his mouth.

'A kind appearance can also be the aspect of a villain since it allows for deception easily.'

The man observed Gyeo-ul. Gyeo-ul observed him in return. He held a very simple handgun.

A weapon with only the basic functionalities, but precisely for that reason, highly reliable.

There was a stench. The woman held hostage seemed to have wet herself in fear. After all, with a pistol, even without a safety, pressed to her temple, staying calm would indeed be strange.

Her lips were blue, her face was pale, and her pupils continuously trembled. All attributes detracted from her original beauty.

From her rare appearance and revealing outfit, one could guess the torments she faced from the gangsters.

Meeting his gaze, she moved her lips slightly.

"Please... save... me... I want to live... Please help..."

A cry was heard. The hostage-taker hit her with the butt of his gun.

The man with a forehead beaded with sweat gave Gyeo-ul a relaxed smile.

"You know me, but I must seem unfamiliar to you, Lieutenant. Pleasure to meet you for the first time, I am Xiong Xigui of the Zhili Association, the master."

The Tong was a self-sustaining cooperative formed by Chinese people residing in America.

The Anliang Commercial Association was also commonly known as Anliang Tong.

Initially, their purpose was to help each other in a foreign land, but many had essentially become crime syndicates.

Given their tendency to prioritize the interests of overseas Chinese over American law. It's rooted in an exclusive national consciousness.

'People who commit crimes without any sense of wrongdoing, thinking it's only right.'

Gyeo-ul couldn't harbor positive feelings about them. As he told the chief adviser of the Damo Association before, nationalism without the premise of cosmopolitanism is a devil's faith.

"Let's skip unnecessary time-wasting. What do you want from me?"

"Ha ha, you're impatient. We are both leaders of our respective groups. Let's have a more dignified conversation."

"A dignified conversation?"

Gyeo-ul deliberately wore a look of contempt and glanced at the woman. His intention was evident, causing the gangster leader with the seemingly good appearance to sigh.

"Considering our unequal positions, I hope you'll understand this much. As tolerance for the weak."

It seemed this would really be a waste of time. Gyeo-ul dragged a chair over and sat down opposite the hostage-taker. Setting the loaded shotgun on his lap, he looked him over with a slight tilt of his head.

What would be the appropriate way to provoke him? He thought, decided, and then acted.

"I don't know how long I can hold this farce. Do yourself a favor and save your breath, gangster mister."

"...... You're quite different from what I've heard."

The gangster leader's complexion hardened slightly at Gyeo-ul's cold and quiet retort while fiddling with the shotgun.

Gyeo-ul's intention was to project the persona of someone who might discard discussions any minute, someone willing to accept the hostage's sacrifice.

"Indeed, it's rare for a leader of many to have just one face. Many faces are needed to respond to different situations, isn't it? A kind person can't become rich, and a rich person can't stay kind."

Gyeo-ul remained silent, and Xiong Xigui's words quickened. It was subtle enough that one might not notice unless they paid close attention.

Simultaneously, he scanned his surroundings constantly, far from letting his guard down.

"Sir, first have the police withdraw."

"Do you think that's possible?"

"Returning those who were brought might be possible."

In response to Xiong Xigui's words, Gyeo-ul calmly questioned.

"Why do you think it's me?"

"Who doesn't know you've been sticking with the police these days?"

"Even if you're not the one orchestrating this, who could ignore you in this fortress? You're the only one who could resolve this situation smoothly."

"Isn't your best bet first Captain Markert?"

"Huh. How could one compare that loser to you? He's just another small officer now. He never delivered any benefit from keeping any promise. Instead, he threatened to help the other side unless others offered him gains."

Even if slightly exaggerated, Gyeo-ul could guess Markert's behavior. The boy rested his chin on his hand and queried anew.

"Alright, suppose I remove the police for you, what's next?"

"Then it would be our turn to compensate. Abandon the dying Triad. The Korean proverb says, 'Sell your wife to buy a good friend.'

The Zhili Association is aligned with the Anliang Commercial Association. You'll gain more from us than that old Triad."

"Nothing feels particularly tangible to me yet."

"Would something suit your fancy?"

Xiong Xigui chuckled mischievously and groped the hostage's chest. He seemed to be showcasing a product.

Gyeo-ul calmly raised his gun. Thinking he saw a slip, the gangster leader hastily adjusted his posture, using the hostage as a shield.

However, it was the hostage Gyeo-ul was aiming at.

The slow aiming was to avoid the gangster leader, thinking that he was the one being targeted and shooting in panic.

Gyeo-ul addressed the hostage.

Bang! The bullet struck her left shoulder. She fainted without so much as a scream. Her body went limp.

Xiong Xigui was stunned. He hadn't imagined Gyeo-ul would actually shoot the hostage.

Before he could react or realize the previous shot was non-lethal, Gyeo-ul fired again. Tsk, Bang! Xiong Xigui's face shattered.

He spit broken teeth from his mouth and wept blood from his ruptured eye. As Gyeo-ul stood up, he hurled the chair.

Splintered debris scattered everywhere. Xiong Xigui eventually dropped the pistol. Gyeo-ul kicked it away.

The police riot unit swiftly entered upon hearing the gunshot. They assessed the situation at a glance and called in the standby medical team.

The team had been prepared just outside the tent. However, they prioritized the young officer over the gangster leader or the hostage.

"We were worried when we heard you went in alone. We're relieved you're safe."

"What are you doing right now? Check on the injured first."

"Oh, yes! My apologies."

Who exactly were they apologizing to...? Gyeo-ul watched until the medical treatment was underway.

---------------------------= Author's Notes ---------------------------=

1. Joara sent me a gifticon for Mister Pizza for exceeding 70 episodes.

However, it was for a regular size.

Isn't pizza naturally supposed to be large?

The author was quite disappointed.

Q. ZERO4: Your work helps me forget about the heat for a moment. May Azathoth's blessing be with you.

A. Thank you, zERO4. May the force be with you too...

Q. Clinen: To guess immediately, you're a writer full of childhood. It's quiet due to the Olympics, but this neighborhood is also full of childhood friends equipped with innocence and faith.

A. Be wary. I've heard that bad childhoods are distributed in that neighborhood.

Q. UlyoungSagreyul: Do you think the zombies' intelligence is increasing? Will it lead to a war with humans? I feel like the Tenth Continent might make a massacre before it gets to that point.

A. I believe it's already a war. Though, they will continue to grow stronger.

Q. Camon: If Camp Roberts, where Gyeo-ul resides, is a gathering of Asian refugees, are other refugee camps for other nationalities or ethnicities? US prisons are known for strictness, how do inmates survive in the ossuary world? (I kind of think they might survive just like in The Walking Dead...) Do you watch The Walking Dead?

A. Yes, other nationalities have separate refuge havens. Second, prison inmates were transferred to specific bases. Third, I've watched up to Season 5 of The Walking Dead. It was enjoyable.

Q. MasterKarlSolom: Tunguska. Akhbar.

A. Whisper? Whisper, whisper!

Q. CryForYou: If you open a support account, be prepared for more than one episode per day... Why keep all those hands idle?

A. The writer doesn't have hands, he only has ten legs. Thus, he writes with his feet instead of his hands.

I'm not neglecting all those legs. The writing slows down because there's a fight among the legs over who presses the keys each time. My legs are named Kimpo Bridge, hangju Bridge, banghwa Bridge, gayang Bridge, seongsan Bridge, yanghwa Bridge, seogang Bridge, mapo Bridge, wonhyo Bridge, and Unitology Bridge, and they all jump when it's time to type.

Q. 清流莲: Thank you for another great work today. In this hot summer, I wish to gift you some hot ginseng soup. ㅇㅅㅇ

A. Truly a reader full of childhood! The writer is delighted.

Q. Rankes: Do you like fried dumplings and grape-flavored Welch's?

A. I like fried dumplings, not so much Welch's.

Q. Naluoeuheu: What's a work filled with enough childhood to brim over?

A. The Second Coming of the Match Girl.

Q. ChickenHalfHalfIsTruth: With Chinese gangs inflicting this kind of violence with lethal weapons on police, wouldn't Chinese nationals suffer some disadvantage? Or what sort of punishment will the gangs face? America cherishes its police, after all, injuries have occurred.

A. As you've seen, the answer is excessive force.

Q. qoewh: Opening a donation account is to replenish your childhood a bit. If strained too much here and your childhood dries up, you'll head to Hell's Fragrance. Please, open a donation account to accept our offerings. Isn't the author your benevolent comic artist friend? Accept offerings to share with friends and replenish your childhood.

A. My preferred offering is actually human sacrifices... I mean, it isn't.

I'll think about opening a support account slowly. :)

Q. Oshinfo: Opening a donation account is our offering to the God, the author. It's fair to pay back for the delight in childlike novels.

A. Thank you for thinking that way. Praise makes the great oldies dance.

Reading comments alone replenishes some of my childhood. It's not necessary to mandate support offerings.

Please continue to enjoy reading. That's best.