Clearing the Game at the End of the World

“What? A rookie?”

“Yeah, they’re sending us another recruit.”

“Another one?”

Late at night, John, who had just come back from standing guard in front of their makeshift post, thought that his Lieutenant Colonel finally got sick from all of the bulls**t and was talking nonsense.

“Lieutenant Colonel, don’t misunderstand this but hear me out. Like I’ve said multiple times before, what we need isn’t more buddyf**kers. Do you think it makes sense that these full-grown adults, who are consuming twice or three times more energy than the others in a crappy environment like this, aren’t even meeting their recommended daily intake of calories? Why do the higher-ups always send us another recruit when we report to them that we’re short on ammo and supplies? Ah, is he the provisions? We’re supposed to eat him, right? I hope it’s a big guy with a potbelly so that we can grill him up and make stew out of his fat.”

“Calm down, John. They probably have their reasons as well. We’re all part of the same war.”

“I’m saying this because we’re positioned at one of the fiercest parts of that war!”

Contrary to his attitude that seemed like he was going to charge out at any moment, John’s movements were incredibly slow and cautious. That was because he had a can of freshly warmed beans in his hand. If he lost control and accidentally spilled it, then he was really going to either ditch this place or off himself.

“When did the last guy come? Hey Wally, wasn’t he part of your squad? That jacka** Chinese.”

“Chinese? Ahh, One Way?”

“Yeah, Wang Wei. Bastard. Try to at least memorize the names of your squad members.”

“My memories are already at their limit with my gun’s serial number and the dinner menu. And that guy wasn’t even worth memorizing. He was dragged here because he was caught deserting his post, and One Way’s sure a good name for him cause he got himself killed while he was running away. He lived up to his name all right.”

“Desertion? When?”

“A week ago. You know, when we got an emergency because a mine blew up at dark thirty? I knew he was a mole. Why would a Chinese be here when our main enemies are the North Koreans and Chinese?”

“You would have been in some deep s**t if you said that in another squad. You know that the Chinese are all over the place, right? Starting with Chinese Americans, Chinese Nepalese, and even Chinese Africans. There’s probably Chinese Neanderthals too.”

John Abrams, nicknamed ‘Shepherd’ to those close to him, put down his spoon when he heard what Wally said about the dead rookie as he snickered along with Luwil.

“It was Post C-2?! Then the one that cut up all of the tripwires I set up crawling through the swamp to the point that I looked like a mud monster was an ally?”

“Oh dang, imagine a big, dark, shiny John. How terrrrible.”

“Shut up, Luwil! I did all of the work because you didn’t show up when you were supposed to! What were you doing, sitting in the corner of a room pumping out a cup of pleasure juice to drink in the morning!”

“Why. You want a cup? It’s filling in the morning when you mix it in a cup of coffee.”

“Stop it, John Abrams, Luwil Batross. Adding such a disgusting appetizer to this wonderful dinner. I would think you two are aware that I always have extra bullets left in my pistol for you two.”

Putting down the spoon that he was putting towards his mouth, Chester put a break on the two men’s dirty talk, which was becoming more heated with each response. It was because he knew from experience that just leaving them would lead it to become a physical fight between the two of them.

“That bullet, if mine’s on top of that guy’s, then I’d be more than happy to get hit by it.”

“…If there had been just one more decent squad leader in the platoon, I would have already shot both of you.”

“What, are you calling us half-baked?”

“Skill-wise, each is 1.5 portions. Put you two together, and it’s -4. That’s a total of minus one portion.”

Siiiip—

Lieutenant Colonel Chester King, the Platoon Leader of the 14 Special Ops Unit, looked down sadly at his coffee made of burned barley as he opened his can of beans that had just finished being cooked. A Lieutenant Colonel Platoon Leader. It didn’t make any sense, but there have been a lot of vacancies in the 14 Special Ops Unit recently, which was supposed to be company-sized, and there was also, thanks to their crazy superiors, that just handed out promotions instead of the provisions they asked for. The fact that even John, who was Sergeant before he came here, was now Captain showed just how bad the situation was.

‘And we’ve basically begged them to take away these useless titles for a slice of bread too.’

There were now running low even on the suspiciously bloated canned beans that tasted like dog food, by some chance. There might be a time in the near future when the ‘Operation Recapture Allied HQ’ plan he made out of spite of the unreasonable orders might see the light of day.

’…Then it would be better to have more meat shields when we can.’

Pushing down the urge to start a coup crawling into his mind, the Lieutenant Colonel mustered an unwavering expression and spoke to his ‘trustworthy’ Squad Leaders.

“It’s the first rookie in three months. Anyone want to take him?”

While Lieutenant Colonel King was forcing the soured baked beans down his throat, the three Squad Leaders sitting with him all shut their mouths simultaneously, almost as if planned.

“Wally. Don’t you have some empty slots in the squad after Wang Wei died?”

“I don’t want him. Do you know just how many guys s**t up our team in the past few times? That One Way guy was on the better side, not bothering anyone and dying by himself. There was that chicken bastard who I barely managed to calm down and dispatched in a mission where he panicked and started shooting away, then that other bastard who I pat down a little because he was being an ass about being from the Mafia, only to have him turn his guns at us! I think I’ve taken the role of rookie tester enough already. I have my own guys I need to take care of, so give it to Shepherd this time.”

“That’s what he claims. John?”

“Give me that pistol you carry around all the time. I’ll shoot it instead of our great majesty.”

“Oh, nice. You’re taking the rookie if I die.”

“It’s for suicide, bastard. Lieutenant Colonel clearly likes me better than you, so I’m positive that my bullet’s on top of yours.”

“Shut it before I shoot both of you. Then… Luwil?”

“Shepherd has three fewer squad members than my squad.”

“Hey!”

The Lieutenant Colonel could feel his head throb listening to his Squad Leaders. Having not enough members while having too many. That was a chronic problem for the 14 Special Ops Unit.

Missions given to them were mostly ones that boasted high danger levels to the point it was impossible to carry out, and because the risks for the operation were so high, vacancies in the squad occurred with every operation, so the 14 Special Ops Unit was always short on people.

But the problem was the people that the higher-ups sent in order to fill those vacancies were all a problem in one way or another.

Either they were soldiers that deserted their positions, didn’t comply with orders, enacted improper sexual conduct, or were too violent, and so on. The ‘Blue Falcons’.

Just starting with John Abrams, Shepherd, he was sent here because he dug out the eye of a squad member with a spoon because they called him a ‘blackie’.

Shepherd’s Squad, 11 members. Wally’s Squad, 13 members. Luwil’s Squad, 14 members. A total of 38 members.

It wasn’t enough to carry out operations, but one too many madmen for a single isolated Lieutenant Colonel to manage alone.

So every single time they sent them a new rookie, the Lieutenant Colonel prayed. He didn’t even ask for a sane one, just one that he could communicate normally with.

“Well, let’s hear what this guy’s about first. What did the guy do this time?”

In a situation where they were all keeping quiet like a silent game of hot potato, the Lieutenant Colonel happily greeted Shepherd, who begrudgingly spoke up first.

“Good thinking, John. Just don’t be so hard on him like you were last time…”

“I’m not taking him yet. I just want to know what he did!”

Seeing the Lieutenant Colonel already start to do the paperwork while completely disregarding his complaints, John just let out a sigh and picked up the rookie’s records placed on the top of the pile of paper.

“Let’s see…record, record… Here it is. [Mutiny, Disobedience of orders, Acts of violence on superiors]. What? He set off a chemical bomb in his superior’s office? This guy’s crazy!”

“Mmm, sip. Lemme see it too. Oh… Shepherd, congrats. Looks like you’ve got yourself a strong-headed one this time. All he said in the pre-trial investigation for the motive was ‘Give and take.’ Mmm, don’t see the record for the trial, though. King, do you know what happened with this one?”

“Apparently, he was enlisted together with his father, and they were both dispatched to the enemy’s chemical attack zone. Only one of them came back alive.”

Listening to the Lieutenant Colonel’s flat response, Luwil sighed in shame, looking at his already empty can of beans.

“Damn, so that’s what happened. Sniff. The guy that came up with that plan, it’s him, right? The one that said generals should be allowed to take a chartered flight home once a week so they can rest. The way they pointlessly pushed people into a place they’re clearly gonna die is just like him.”

“Lieutenant Colonel Medici. It’s him.”

“Oh. Did he die?”

“They said he’s recovering in the hospital.”

“Damn it! If it was a strike instead of a foul, then I would have opened our rookie with open arms!”

Snickering to himself, Luwil gave back the rookie’s records to John. Taking the records that now had baked bean juice splattered all over them thanks to Luwil’s messy eating habits, John grimaced in disgust and handed it back to the Lieutenant Colonel.

“Tch. I wonder how long he’s going to last this time.”

On the records smudged with bean oil was the picture of a soft-eyed teenager with the words [Gyosu Park(17) : Korean] written next to it.

After Father collapsed like that, and he sat there, next to the cold, still body until he was rescued by the other soldiers who arrived too late, this had been the moment he was waiting for.

“Sir. Sergeant Professor Park reporting for matters in the CCC (Command Control Center).”

“Hm? Your rank… Ah, at ease. You must be him, the soldier that was promoted two ranks this…”

“Sergeant! This isn’t a place you can just walk into! What are you doing? Take him out at once. They’re not standing guard properly out there, letting a soldier come all the way…”

When you're just trying to make great content at bit.ly/3iBfjkV.

Click!

When I pulled out the pin, I had no hesitation or regrets.

Tssssss!

“W-what? Operator!”

“Gas!”

“It’s gas! CS gas!”

“Do not panic and air it out! Open all windows! If Sergeant Park attempts to escape, you are free to fire!”

“Just shoot him! That bastard… He attacked the commander!”

“Don’t shoot! Tie him up!”

It was only when I realized that the grenade I threw so hard into the air was not the terrible poisonous gas that my father and I experienced, but just tear gas, and one that was not even strong enough to fill the entire room, but gone after a few open windows and a few tears, that I regretted it. As a teenager who knew nothing more about the army than the fact that I would also need to be enlisted into it in three years and that a gun shoots out a bullet when you pull the trigger, I thought that all chemical grenades were the same. The situation was grave enough to push ignorant students like me into the trenches.

Thinking about it now, that was stupid. There’s no way they would store a real chemical bomb that would annihilate all of the troops in the area in a company warehouse that’s so poorly managed. They even double-lock ammunition, so it would be impossible for a chemical grenade to be stored in a bright blue storage container. I learned later on that the tear gas grenades placed there were for soldiers constantly called to deal with the civilian that tried to climb over the airport and military headquarter fences to somehow save their lives.

So that night, when I was locked up for causing the chemical gas incident. A white man that had been in the CCC visited the storage room they temporarily locked me in.

His body was thin and pale as if he had not once spent a day in the wilderness. His stomach poked out. There was a mean glare behind his large glasses.

The moment the door opened, I recognized him right away.

‘It’s him.’

After Father died and I recovered, I headed straight to the Company Commander’s office and caused a commotion. Who was it? Who the hell was the bastard that made such a stupid order.

I wasn’t able to learn it then, but one of the administrative soldiers that I was friendly with during my probation had quietly approached me and slipped me a name. Born in an Italian military family. A general infamous for being incompetent yet having too much ambition to be promoted.

Lieutenant Colonel Lorencio Medici.

Coming into the room with a face reddened by alcohol, the man suddenly started to beat me up while I was tied down.

Poww! Powwww!

“Damn Asian money kid daring to attack me, a Commander! If the meeting had been delayed because of you, and that delayed the orders, and all of the troops were slaughtered because of it, do you think your worthless life could pay for theirs? Huh!”

Every time the hard military boot collided with my head, I could feel my vision blur. The chance would come. Just once, if I could see that man’s face crumple in pain just one time…

“Lieutenant Colonel Medici, sir. Sergeant Park will be judged in court, so it is recommended to end any personal sanctions should be ende—”

“Hagh, hagh! What? Personal sanctions? End it… here?”

I had my teeth clenched, just waiting for a chance to strike back, when someone stopped the boot that was viciously pounding down on my head. The foot stopped for a moment, then changed its target and flew at the shin of the man that was standing next to him.

Whhmph!

“Hey.”

“…Lance Sergeant Byeong-Il Cho.”

“Did I just hear that wrong? I thought that someone just commanded me to do something. Then their rank…”

Whhmph!

“Shouldn’t be a mere!”

Whhmph!

“Lance Sergeant!”

“Erghhh!”

Thud!

In the narrow field of vision I had through my swollen eyelids, I saw a man collapsing on the floor, clutching onto his leg. At the end of a heavy set of breaths, I heard the sound of a zipper opening, and a warm liquid fell trickled onto my face.

“Damn it, all of these bastards are looking down on their superior like they’re so righteous. Uncultured Asian soldiers… no, they can’t even be called soldiers. How could I, the great Medici, be demoted to manage militia like this. Useless, incompetent idiots! Sacrifices are inevitable in war! They treat me like this because I lost a couple thousand gnats from the Philippines? Just you wait and see, I’ll climb my way back up even if it means I use all of these Koreans as a stepping stool! I’ll go back, put them under my feet and step on them like insects!”

Swinging his arms in the air as he strengthened his resolve for something, Medici grimaced as he sat down on the chair that I had been seated in just before.

“Damn it, I got a blister from disciplining these rats. It’s because that stupid bastard didn’t let me bring my baton…”

Through my swollen eyes, I saw the laces of the boots untie, then Medici’s foot, reddened from its usage. And his ankles, with no trace of abuse or hard work, revealed when he pulled his pants back up while peeing.

If there was one thing that I learned from the failure with the chemical grenade was that I should only use weapons that I know and trust.

Fortunately, there was a weapon I was very familiar with, more than the K-2 rifle that I’d learned to shoot in the past month.

A weapon I’ve used my entire life to tear and crush things into little bits.

Biteee!

“Aaaaaaaagh! L-let goo!!!”

Feeling the metallic taste of blood seep into my mouth, I bit even harder down into Medici’s back ankle. I heard something snap inside.

“Aaaaaahhhhhh! H-help! Medic! Mediiiiiiic!!!!”

After waving around his limbs helplessly for a while, Medici kicked my face off his ankle with his right foot, then crawled out of the room, one foot dragging behind him. That was the last thing I saw before I blacked out.

Later, as I was unable to stand in court with a face swollen up like a balloon from getting beaten up, I was given a disciplinary assignment to the 14 Special Extermination Squadron under a strong recommendation from Lieutenant Colonel Medici.

14 Special Ops was famous among the soldiers for being the ‘legal execution grounds’. Since there was no transport plane that landed in their operation area, I boarded a transport plane heading to a nearby operation area and was given a 5-minute training session and a wish for good luck before being chucked off the plane from an altitude of 3000 meters.

‘Son, remember to love your life.’

Through the ear-splitting sound of the air shooting past me, I could hear my father’s voice. As if he knew what I was thinking as I was falling down like excess trash on the plane.

‘Father. Can you really consider this as life?’

Giving up on any hopes I had, I pulled down on one of the random things I caught in my hand.

Unfortunately, the 5-minute session on high-altitude parachuting from the paratrooper was a little too effective.