Cleaner.
If you were to ask people around Central Park HQ about the existence of these individuals, most would try to show the most favorable reaction possible, albeit with subtle expressions.
The reason was simple. There was no other unauthorized armed group that had been more helpful to HQ and to the current United States than these people. But at the same time, their ideology was completely incompatible with that of the U.S.
They were the ones who burned every enemy they deemed as such. Physically. They were the executioners of one of the most horrific deaths a person could face—being burned alive.
This was a practice that, after the Reformation, was rarely carried out in modern times, and since then, could only be found sporadically in books. But in the 21st century, it was resurrected and carried out by the New York City Sanitation Department.
They were undeniably helpful, but their methods were not exactly desirable by any means. With that in mind, it was understandable why people at HQ would make hesitant faces when asked about the Cleaners.
But the world had become incredibly harsh, and to survive each day, most people were willing to rely on the devil's hand, not the executioner’s.
Moreover, the virus apocalypse was no longer the primary issue. The Third World War had broken out in the northeastern United States, and everyone except children and the elderly was set to take up arms and head to the front lines.
In short, while the Cleaners were definitely an unappealing presence, there were far more pressing matters and horrific events in the world.
However, on a day in December, seeing dozens of fire trucks crossing Manhattan suddenly brought about an unavoidable feeling of pressure.
Wooooo!
The fire trucks, blaring an unbearably loud siren, were followed by military transport vehicles with miniguns bearing recycling marks, and other vehicles of unknown purpose trailing behind.
Few people knew that these were modified all-terrain fire response vehicles the Cleaners used during their attack on the Bronx, but at least the Dagger Team, riding in the lead command vehicle, knew.
And it wasn’t just water being sprayed from these vehicles anymore. They now fired napalm and incendiary aerosol munitions with heat-pressure mortar and miniguns, resembling a makeshift armored vehicle.
The sirens were deafening.
It felt like the vehicles cleared the streets of Manhattan just for this moment as numerous vehicles moved down from northern Manhattan toward New Jersey.
The state of the Holland Tunnel, which connected Jersey City and New York across the Hudson River, was far from perfect, but the Cleaners paid no attention, crossing through the tunnel and heading toward Newark Airport.
Their mission was simple: eliminate all the enemies that had landed in New Jersey.
"The reconnaissance drones have joined. We should be able to easily pinpoint the enemy’s location now."
"It’s time to burn everything. What’s your plan?"
"We need to make sure no one can use that biological research facility anymore. There are more enemies clustered near it as well."
"We’ll help. If too many Cleaners die here, retaking the airport might not be easy, so keep pushing."
"...Are you sure about this?"
"Since the world fell apart, all the values we used to believe in have shattered. The people who would rather welcome death than life have all gathered here, so all that’s left is for you to take charge."
The Dagger Team said nothing.
About ten minutes later, the Cleaners and the Dagger Team collided with the enemy forces defending the biological research facility at New Jersey University.
With the first explosion, thick blood and debris filled the air.
"Grenade launcher!"
"ADS active! Enemies on the building rooftops!"
"They’ve got mortars and machine guns!"
"Increase speed! We can’t destroy the Dragon with infantry fire!"
"Hmmm. We might need to rain some fire on those rooftops..."
At that moment, Laurentina tossed the miniature drone hanging from her thigh into the air, simultaneously activating her map to request air support.
An infrared laser from the drone aimed steadily at the rooftop, and the HQ operator responded to the request. The nearest surface-to-air missile battery, located at Governors Island, received the command and launched a missile remotely.
The missile, fired from Governors Island, only 16 km from Newark, hit the target with a loud explosion, releasing over a hundred CBU-110 advanced cluster bombs in an instant.
The flash of the explosion was blinding, and for a moment, the Dagger Team and the Cleaners' vision were overwhelmed with the white-hot glare.
The rooftop went quiet.
"I do enjoy this kind of silence."
"Good. Let’s move in! Only the drivers stay—everyone else, dismount and burn all the contamination you see!"
"Oxygen tanks normal, oxygen supply normal, fuel line pressure normal! Deploying heavy armored troops!"
"We’re opening the path. Keep up, operators."
Dozens of soldiers dismounted from the transport APCs, and there were many more APCs—at least several dozen.
As New Jersey filled with the sound of gunfire, the Cleaners moved methodically, checking their gear and pairing off into teams of five to occupy nearby buildings.
They started by setting fire to trees, streetlights, and parachutes hanging from buildings, before entering the university building. The chaos they caused attracted nearby enemy soldiers, and soon, the area turned into a battlefield.
It didn’t take long for the situation to descend into complete mayhem.
"We’re about to enter the university, but do the Cleaners have enough anti-tank or anti-infantry combat vehicles?"
"We have some, but not many. What’s the plan?"
"We’ll leave the tanks behind. They should be enough."
"Tanks, huh? You better be careful. I’m sure a BMD-4M will handle things just fine, so let’s get moving. Just let us know where you need support."
"Understood."
As the battle raged on, the Cleaners didn’t waste time and continued pushing forward, their expert tactics overpowering the enemies’ defenses.
Yet, despite their success, it wasn’t an easy victory. The enemy had nowhere to retreat to, and if they were pushed back here, they would either die or be captured.
If the Cleaners were madmen, the enemy soldiers were just as desperate, and some of them were even as fanatical as the Cleaners themselves—especially the anti-American Islamic soldiers recruited from Central Asia. As a result, the battle would inevitably reach a stalemate.
But there was another problem.
"We’ve encountered fierce resistance inside the medical university! The weaponry and appearance of the enemies are different from the allied forces!"
"Explosive drones! Aaaagh!"
"Take control of the space and burn the oxygen! Push forward with the heavy armored units! Icarus operators need time to analyze the data!"
"These bastards... they’re wearing Black Phoenix patches all over their bodies."
The Cleaners had encountered the Black Eagles, elite forces that were either PMC members or Alejandro Webb’s personal guards tasked with defending high-value points.
The Black Eagles, equipped with stolen Icarus gear and advanced combat systems, were a formidable force, and the Cleaners took heavy losses in the first engagement.
The Dagger Team was pushing forward, undeterred.
"You’ve held out well. From here, we’ll take over. Step back."
"Is that okay?"
"I'm not telling you to retreat entirely, ha-ha. We’ll clear the path, so just follow us closely."
"Sounds simple enough."
The Dagger Team was exceptionally skilled at creating or destroying terrain to create variables in their favor. Without hesitation, they loaded the oxidizing agents and fired them at the walls. Even if the walls or doors had been reinforced, it didn’t matter.
Laurentina’s enhanced kick, powered by tungsten, struck the wall with such force that metal plates twisted, and the door shattered.
As soon as the enemy was in sight, the first wave of firestorm filled the room, and before the enemy could react, Laurentina pierced them with something in her hand.
"Gahh!"
"Goddamn, what the hell is this!? What’s happening?!"
"Sometimes stabbing weapons are much more effective."
A folding knife.
The enemy combatant, who had pulled his sidearm to fight at close range, was stunned when Laurentina evaded the bullet and then used her fist to disable him.
And that was the last memory the Black Eagle combatant would have.
When Laurentina’s fist hit the bulletproof plate, the ceramic plate shattered like pottery, unable to block the impact of the Magnum round.
It was as if the enemy combatant had been shot multiple times in the chest with slugs. His ribs were completely shattered.
Leaving behind the dead enemy, Laurentina muttered while shaking off the slight pain in her right hand.
"Quite tough customers. It seems like things won’t go exactly as planned."
"Is that so? Next, we’ll see how much fire it takes to burn them to death."
"Not bad. But be mindful, we might be a bit slow while we coordinate."
"If you can’t do it, consider it a legal chance to badmouth a seal."
Owens, who had been rifling through the enemy gear, added:
The flames began to rise.
"I hear Eagle Team will join within five minutes. Things should get easier now. Looks like the airport operation is going smoothly..."
"Good. They’ve been spilling information everywhere, and now they’re facing off against some ridiculously strong foes. I guess we’ll need reinforcements too."
"I hope they don’t get hit by any surface-to-air missiles, though."
"Do you want to tempt fate?"
Boom!
The sound of explosions echoed down the hallway, and silhouettes appeared in the distance.
The shadows that flickered from afar were followed by bullets flying toward their heads. Though they didn’t hit, it was an intense challenge to be able to shoot accurately in the chaos of the hallway filled with smoke.
Laurentina, leaning casually against the wall, frowned.
Beneath her, several corpses lay motionless. All of them had been stripped of their uniforms. This was the work of Icarus operators and Dagger Team member, Dr. William Chester.
The blood on the scalpel was thicker than usual, and a strange oily substance was detected among the human blood and fat.
Thin tubes had burrowed under the skin, flowing with some sort of lubricant, and Chester confirmed that the elbow and knee pads worn by the soldiers were not just protective gear, but had been permanently fixed to their bodies.
"There are reinforcement implants in the joints, a separate alloy skeleton connecting the joints, and bulletproof plates between the ribs. It seems there’s something in their optic nerves too... Quite the remarkable friends."
"Is body modification trending these days? Artemis’s crew must’ve unleashed something. This is troublesome... But it seems like the implants that need power are mostly in the optic nerves, except for that. Don’t go extracting their eyes, though."
"I’m not here for biological experiments. First, let’s figure out how to breach this damn hallway. We wouldn’t have made it this far without sticky bombs or a Seeker mine..."
"Yeah, drones... They’ve probably installed directional EMPs, so they won’t work properly."
Through several minutes of fighting, the Dagger Team discovered a few things.
First, unlike the battle between the allied forces and the Cleaners, the Black Eagle combatants were much less aggressive in battle, opting for a very defensive strategy.
If you are reading this translation anywhere other than Novelight.net or SilkRoadTL, it has been stolen.
Second, the Black Eagles had been using some device to emit high-output directional EMP pulses since the loss of their allied forces, with the pulses seemingly focused entirely on the Dagger Team.
Lastly, their numbers were incredibly small.
Though Owens had been analyzing the enemy's communication devices, it didn’t yield much.
"I was wrong. Their communications are compromised. It’s useless now. To really dig deeper, we need more samples. To secure a control group, we’ll have to breach that corridor marked as a kill zone."
"Logan is probably still out there fighting with the APCs."
"The reinforcements are coming from Newark Airport, so it’ll take a while to get here. They’ll probably arrive much later than Eagle Team."
"Hmm."
Crack.
Owens, stepping on the broken communication device, leaned against the wall, looking around before opening his backpack. Inside, he pulled out a thin steel cable, clearly strong enough to hold a person’s weight.
Attached to the end was an anchor, and while it didn’t need to be explained, its purpose was clear.
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Before Laurentina could speak up, saying she’d go down first to clear a separate path, the pulses in the corridor subsided, and a male voice came through the comm.
"-[Data corrupted]: Ah, ah. Can you hear me well? The security line is pretty solid, like the ones the sheriffs use. Anyway, it’s an honor to meet you. I hear you implement peace and violence more efficiently than anyone else.]"
"-[Data corrupted]: Enough of the pointless talk. Let me introduce myself. I’m Crowda. You’ll probably be curious about where I’m from, so I’ll tell you. I’m a PMC who became the Director of the Technical Division of the place you stomped over.]"
"-[Data corrupted]: Anyway, let’s get to the point. Bringing in those crazy guys who love burning people alive was unexpected for us too. How about we just do our part and go our separate ways?]"
"Separate ways? Our path is to cut off your limbs and capture you alive while you're talking on the comm."
Crow.
Someone suspected to be the head of the Black Eagle forces and a key figure in the ongoing crisis. This information wasn’t just stored in the Icarus Gear database but had been folded away in the back of my mind as well, all while Crow continued talking.
"-[Data corrupted]: Well, I figured this would happen. To be honest, I don’t think this mess really has any meaning. There’s no one left alive who wasn’t stubborn in this broken world.]
"-[Data corrupted]: But after walking through this shattered world, I understand something. You can’t preserve what’s left with just stubbornness. Anyway, you’ll probably cut off my limbs now, as you’ve heard. You guys are quite aggressive.]
"-[Data corrupted]: Doesn’t matter. My identity got exposed, but I’m not physically here... I’ve gotten all the data I need.]
"-[Data corrupted]: Webb’s a shady guy. He ended his bodyguards’ lives with just a press of a button. Anyway, I’ve spilled all I can, so go ahead and analyze it.]"
The Dagger Team laughed in disbelief.
The reason was simple: They couldn’t ignore Crow’s words.
Had it been just pointless bluffs from start to finish, they would’ve cut the communication and continued with their actions. But Crow had mixed in trivial yet important pieces of information into his speech.
While never touching on the key points, the Dagger Team had no choice but to listen to the conversation.
"-[Data corrupted]: You’re probably wondering why I’m babbling so much. Think about it. But you see, by scattering crumbs around, I’ll always have a piece of the puzzle, no matter where I go.]
"-[Data corrupted]: Anyway, it looks like the unwelcome guests are coming from Brooklyn, so this is where we part ways. The allied forces can die for all I care, but it’d be a shame to discard the modified ones.]
"-[Data corrupted]: If we meet again, I hope one of you falls down, ha-ha.]"
Crack.
The communication cut off, and the strike team fell into silence.
The constant gunfire in the surrounding area, the roar of tilt-jet planes flying overhead, and the sudden loss of life-signs of twenty or so individuals in the corridor, followed by the Icarus Gear’s warning message, all collided at once.
In the midst of it all, Laurentina finally spoke.
"Looks like we’ve got a lot to do today."
The data the Black Eagles retrieved from the BSL4 facility.
Exactly what technologies they had applied to the Black Eagles.
Who Crow was.
In this ever-complicating and frustrating situation, a resolution still seemed a long way off.