When Osprey woke up to the sound of his phone ringing, he knew bad news would follow suit. Looking up at his quarter's ceiling, the Major let the phone ring for a minute before twisting in bed. Grabbing the phone off the stand, Osprey groggily answered it, stifling a yawn as he did so.
"Major Striker Osprey?" Command asked, Osprey slowly sitting up in his bed.
"This is him," Osprey tiredly replied, stretching a bit.
"I apologize for the last-minute call, but you're being called back in," Command told him, causing Osprey to grumble. So much for his vacation, and Mgbaba sounded nice this time of year.
"What for?" Osprey asked, hearing the clacking of a keyboard on Command's end.
"An airborne operation in Japan," Command replied, with Osprey sighing. Of course, it'd be that shit storm, not like he was surprised though. The Boss had been calling in troops from everywhere for days. It was only a matter of time before the Airborne units were called in. After a few more words, Command hung up, leaving Osprey in silence for a moment. That was until someone yawned behind him.
"Who was that?" Buffalo tiredly asked, shifting in the bed behind him.
"Command. Got assigned to Japan," Osprey replied before Buffalo pulled him into a quiet hug.
"Hmph, why's it you get all the fun ops?" Buffalo jokingly asked, with Osprey chuckling.
"You have the weirdest definition of fun," Osprey told her, with Buffalo rolling her eyes.
"Shame about the vacation though," Buffalo muttered, though Osprey could hear the excitement in her tone. He figured as much anyway. Chilling out on a beach to tan or just relaxing in a hotel had never really been her thing. Far too boring as Buffalo put it. That said, everything had already been planned, and it wasn't like they spent money on much else.
"We can always postpone," Osprey said, pulling Buffalo closer to him. She just shrugged, before commenting, "So long as I plan the itineraries."
Somehow, Osprey felt he was going to regret agreeing. Already the list of activities Buffalo could choose ran through his mind. Boxing, racing, mountain climbing, deep-sea scuba diving, more boxing, soccer, football, sky diving, even more boxing, and anything that didn't involve being even slightly relaxed. Still, sounded somewhat fun, so long as he could get a vacation from his vacation.
"They tell you when you're shipping out?" Buffalo soon inquired, with Osprey nodding.
"Got an hour before I have to leave," Osprey told her, with Buffalo yawning quietly.
"Might as well get up then," Buffalo replied, slowly shuffling off the bed. Once she was up she lay a kiss on Osprey's cheek, before walking toward his quarter's "kitchen", if it could even be called that.
"Think you'll manage with me gone?" Osprey asked jokingly, standing up to stretch, as Osprey made herself some coffee.
"Please. Had a dozen contracts planned out in case this happened," Buffalo replied, with Osprey just shaking his head.
"All on the front," Osprey muttered, knowing exactly what those contracts would entail. He hadn't seen any of them, but he had a damn good feeling as to what they were.
With a small smile, Osprey muttered, "Damn adrenaline junkie."
Buffalo just smiled back, before grabbing Osprey and pulling him close.
"Well, someone has to keep our lives exciting. And besides, I know you love it," Buffalo replied, quickly pulling him in for a kiss. If given the chance, Osprey would have ignored orders to stay in this moment. But of course, there was no choice. If Command was calling him in on one of his few days off, then something big was happening. Osprey couldn't fathom what it would be though, even as he left his quarters and headed towards the airfield—the last time this had happened, had been because of the Battle of Onishita. And that had been a massive FUBAR for weeks. Silently Osprey dreaded that this would be something similar, especially as the airfield came into view.
Dozens of men quickly loaded up a pair of C-17s, with a pair of modified M10 Bookers sitting nearby—specifically, an airborne variant of the M10, designed for low-altitude drops. Yeah, Osprey reasoned, something big was happening.
Madam President didn't know what to do. They were on day three of this battle, and quickly nearing day four. In that time no gains had been made anywhere on the front. And by this point, Madam President was tired. Starving the villains out would cause too many civilian casualties, and overwhelming force would cause too many hero casualties. She tried sending in small groups of heroes for search-and-destroy missions, but most groups either didn't return or came back with heavy losses.
"How many now?" Madam President asked, tiredly rubbing her eyes.
"Two hundred dead, six hundred wounded," Ocelot replied over the phone, "Less dead than yesterday, so I'd call that a plus."
A plus, Madam President thought sarcastically. That was still eight hundred heroes out of action. She wasn't even sure Musutafu had any heroes left, at least uninjured heroes. More and more heroes were being called in from outside the prefecture, but it was taking them all the time to arrive. For some, it was a two-hour drive from Tokyo, which didn't sound long. Yet by the time they arrived, another dozen heroes were dead. They were losing heroes faster than they could replace them.
"Call off all assaults," Madam President muttered, "We lose any more heroes, and we won't be able to hold the front line. Once reinforcements arrive we'll start up again."
"Public's not gonna like it," Ocelet replied, with Madam President scoffing.
"Well, I don't have a choice. Those lines weaken too much, and the villains will break right through them," Madam President told him. Besides, not like the public could get any angrier, Madam President thought. Eventually, Ocelot hung up, leaving Madam President to take a deep breath. Where had everything gone wrong? As much as she despised the MSF, she couldn't blame them in this case.
Somehow the Ninth Circle amassed this massive force and would likely have attacked whether or not the MSF was present. That only made her more annoyed the longer she thought about it. In a day these villains had killed thousands of heroes, nearly executed All Might, and put Musutafu into a siege. With an annoyed grumble, Madam President pondered how much worse this could get, before grabbing the TV remote on her desk.
Turning on the TV, she flipped to the first news channel she could find. Of course, she quickly began to regret this. It was more of the same news that'd been on for weeks. Casualty numbers for heroes on the front, obituaries for the deceased, interviews with government officials, talking with terrified people on the street, detailed reports on battle lines, and so many damn debates.
"We were told an attack like this could never happen! And that if one did happen, heroes would be able to handle it! Yet here were are on day three, and no gains have been made into Musutafu!" one news anchor angrily proclaimed, while his counterpart tried his best to defend the hero's position.
"No gains have been made because the heroes are consolidating their forces! All of these assaults are obviously just probing missions to figure out the villain's strong points," the other anchor countered.
"What probing mission ends with two hundred heroes dead!?" the first anchor demanded with the second anchor scoffing.
"That is an overblown number and you know it! Records from the Hero Commission only total the total deaths to sixty-five!" the second anchor retorted before Madam President changed the channel. On and on she flipped through channels, grumbling as time went on.
"From what we can see here, roughly five hundred-"
"Missile strikes continue to be launched at-"
"Rumors are circulating about unknown ships spotted off the coastline-"
"Representative Hanabata Koku continues to demand an investigation into the JSDF-"
"With no sign of Ryukyu anywhere-"
Madam President was about to turn off the TV before something caught her eye. Stopping on a channel, she spotted the anchor wrapping up their show. That was, until the anchor paused momentarily, listening to someone off-camera relay something.
"And… hold on one moment," the anchor stated, before his eyes widened in shock, "We are… receiving breaking news, as our field reporter Awano Fumiko has been confirmed to be alive. She now reports live at UA."
Madam President looked at the TV in shock, begging that she'd misheard everything. UA had been radio silent except for a few select calls. Madam President wasn't entirely sure why, but her best guess was to prevent the villains from getting intel. All it took was a few civilians filming stuff on campus, for the villains to have their hands on new targets. But she was hoping the MSF would stay silent for a lot longer.
After a few seconds, the TV began showing a female reporter standing in front of a camera. The woman had brown hair, which was very messy and littered with bits of dirt and blood. Some scratches lined the woman's cheek, while her shirt was somewhat torn. All in all the reporter looked worse for wear but seemed oddly determined.
"So Awano, last we heard from you UA's stadium was being overrun. What happened?" the anchor asked, with Awano looking at the camera quickly.
"Well, things were rather desperate, but both the heroes and UA security managed to beat back the villains. In fact, where I'm currently standing is right outside UA's main gate," Awano replied, the camera moving around to show off the front gate. It was… bad. That was all Madam President could think. UA's barrier wall had been blown open with however many pounds of explosives. But of course, that wasn't the worst of it, no. The worst of it, was the tanks, sitting right outside on guard duty.
Next to the tanks were other armored vehicles, and soldiers with hastily built defenses. Men with machine guns covered every single area the villains could charge in through. And above them, were small recon drones providing support. The top of this maddening desert, was the pair of F-35s then flying by. Madam President couldn't find the energy to be angry anymore. Instead, she sat there, staring at her TV quietly.
"I'm sorry, did you say the villains were beaten back?" the anchor asked, surprise clear in his tone. Others in the newsroom with him murmured in agreement, while Awano nodded.
"I did. Roughly three hours after the initial attack, the villains were forced into a retreat," Awano replied, the camera coming back to her.
"Fuck," Madam President muttered, slowly rubbing her brow.
"How… how is that even possible? The rest of Musutafu is still under siege, with heroes unable to make a breakthrough," the anchor told Awano, leaving the reporter quiet for a second. Slowly the reporter began thinking it over before gulping.
"I… uh… believe that is in part, due to the… MSF," Awano hesitantly answered, the anchor now looking at the camera in disbelief.
"Fuck," Madam President again muttered, as the anchor commented "The army of mercenaries…"
"Yes," Awano replied, with the anchor's brow furrowing slightly.
"I'm having a hard time believing the villains on campus are-" the anchor tried to say before Awano cut him off.
"I don't think calling them villains is accurate," Awano told him, stinging the anchor, "During the attack MSF personnel were spotted doing everything capable to protect civilian lives. I think that I… yes, I have a clip for it."
Awano then held up a very damaged phone toward the camera, trying her best to display the clip recorded. Quietly Madam President begged the phone to not turn on. For it to be too far broken, or at least have its battery out of power. Unfortunately, it did turn on, and Awano brought up a video. It displayed the beginning moments of the attack on the stadium. Villains were dropping from helicopters, while civilians fled the area. And on the screen were two soldiers fighting back.
One was a freakishly pale male, being almost the color of paper. The other was of Middle Eastern descent, with a stupidly large gun on his waist. It was just those two soldiers, with not a hero in sight. Both men fought back with a damn fury as the civilians fled. One even ran out to grab a child, before carrying them back to their parents. Eventually, one soldier noticed the person recording, before shouting at them and motioning for them to run.
The entire scene left the anchor quiet, no, it left the newsroom quiet.
"Fuck!" Madam President yelled, chucking her remote at the TV. The small remote shattered part of the screen, leaving half of the TV a broken mess while the other half kept playing. This wasn't supposed to happen, none of this was! It was exactly as she feared it would happen! All it took was a few days trapped behind UA's walls, and now the public was getting comfortable with the MSF! She couldn't stand it, but it only got worse as time went on.
Dozens of weapons Madam President had never seen before were shown off by Awano. Large bipedal mechs walked by the camera, followed by dozens of robotic soldiers. Unmanned attack helicopters flew towards the main gate, followed by massive quad-rotors bringing reinforcements. Slowly Madam President moved to grab her phone and turned it on. After a minute of scrolling, she was already furious. Every new article, every new social media post, and every news channel was talking about the MSF.
His stomach grumbling, Fatgum couldn't help but feel… fear. It wasn't for himself, but for the civilians he was escorting behind him. This latest assault had been particularly brutal for everyone, and by the time the order to retreat was given, he'd run through most of his fat. It was bad enough that a 7.62 round managed to graze his arm. It would be fine though, they were only a short run from friendly lines.
"Come on! We're almost there, just keep running!" Fatgum called out, stepping back to let the civilians sprint past him. It was a small crowd, too small in Fatgum's opinion. Only eight people were alive. Behind them were several police officers and small-time heroes protecting the rear. Of course, Fatgum soon heard the haunting noise of drones, and the hero quickly looked up toward the sky.
"Drones! Take cover!" an officer yelled out, diving behind a car for cover. It helped little as the loitering munitions slammed into the ground around them. Fatgum heard nothing but screaming for a few minutes, as the hero tackled the closest civilian he could find. Using himself as a shield, Fatgum cried out in pain as shrapnel peppered him, wearing down more of his fat. When the chaos eventually dissipated Fatgum slowly stood up, and looked around the area.
"Damn it, everybody run! Go!" Fatgum ordered the surviving civilians. He mentally swore as he counted who remained. From eight, down to four. The whirring followed behind them as they ran, constantly ducking as a drone dive-bombed into the ground. Bits of concrete were flung into the air every few minutes. Shrapnel tore into the civilians, the cops, and even Fatgum. It felt like an eternity, but the drones stopped coming.
Looking up, Fatgum found the skies were clear after the last drone crashed into a nearby building. It gave the hero a moment to rest, though that rest was more a brisk walk. Better than full sprinting again. Taking a deep breath, Fatgum turned towards his compatriots.
"Everybody good?" Fatgum asked, facing the officers and heroes behind him. No one said a word, instead looking around the area coldly. It was disheartening to see, as everyone present was terrified. The heroes looking up at the skies or the alleyways shaking, their breathing rapidly. The officers meanwhile did the same, though with far more panic and terror.
After a few minutes of walking, they reached a large park. The entire area was full of trees and had a small stream running by. To Fatgum's worry though, some civilians in front of them gasped. The crowd stopped in front of them, refusing to move forward.
"What's going on?" Fatgum asked, again getting no answer. Grumbling the hero slowly made his way forward. He was ready for yet another fight, but instead, his eyes slowly widened in shock. He wanted to say something, anything, but all the words died in his mouth. Dozens, upon dozens of pikes littered the park, each one with a hero's head mounted onto it. Everywhere Fatgum looked, he found a new pike.
"R-Riku," one of the civilians muttered, an old lady now stepping up toward one of the pikes. Tears filled the old woman's eyes as she looked up at the pike. Fatgum followed her eyes towards the head and wanted to gag. The head was of a male hero Fatgum didn't recognize, bearing only a plain red domino mask, littered with spades, hearts, diamonds, and clubs. The hero looked young, as if they just graduated a year or two prior.
"R-Riku!" the old lady cried out, collapsing to her knees sobbing. She begged and pleaded that this was all a dream. But Fatgum knew it wasn't. He heard reports of the villains doing acts of barbarism, but Fatgum hadn't encountered it yet. It was just… unbelievable for him. The reports were so barbaric, that he thought it all nonsense. Overblown reports that couldn't possibly be true.
Now he saw he was wrong, with his own two eyes, watching blood drip down the pikes.
Iida wasn't entirely sure what was going on. All he knew was that an MSF scientist had asked for his help. Being the good-natured student he was, Iida agreed a bit suspiciously. Now he sat on a chair, next to… well the biggest tank he'd ever seen. Actually, tank might not even be the right word for this case, Iida reasoned. The scientist, along with a blonde-haired girl slightly older than Iida, quickly got to work looking at the engines in his legs.
It had been strange and felt weird to as they poked and prodded a bit. But eventually, they stopped and instead began building an exact copy of his engines. Only they were much, much bigger.
"That… should do the trick," the doctor said, managing to fit the engine into the behemoth of a tank. Soul, Iida believed his name was. After fitting the engine in the back of the vehicle, Soul took a few steps back, before peaking around the tank's side.
"Everything fueled up on your end?" Soul asked, with the blonde girl peeking around the tank.
"Yep! Just filled up the last tank," the blonde girl replied. Melissa, Iida mentally remembered. Melissa soon ran over to join them, as Soul grabbed a nearby Idroid.
"Good, here's hoping it works," Soul commented, bringing the Idroid up. Turning it on Soul began looking over the vehicle's diagnostics, humming to himself.
"Dell, start it up," Soul commented, the engine starting up immediately after the words left his mouth. Quietly everyone sat and waited for a moment before the vehicle's legs began to move around. Slowly the legs stood the vehicle up fully, before taking a few steps forward. The vehicle's turret turned with it, moving in a slow circle as Soul and Melissa inspected everything carefully.
"Legs are doin' fine," a voice stated, through the Idroid, "Want us to move onto hover?"
"Yes, but don't push it too hard," Soul replied, watching as the vehicle's legs began to shift around. To Iida's surprise, the tank slowly began to hover off the ground. Drifting from side to side the vehicle continued to move around, before spinning in a circle.
"Everything's working as expected," Melissa commented, happy the engine hadn't given out on them. Soul nodded smiling, watching as the tank began to strafe by. They would still have to run more tests to be sure, but things seemed promising.
"Wonder what other uses an engine like this could have," Soul muttered aloud, before snapping his fingers.
"Almost forgot," the scientist stated, searching around his pockets for a moment and pulling out his wallet. To Iida's confusion, Soul turned and pulled out a small stack of cash.
"Don't have any yen on hand, and this is most definitely not enough money, but I can't send you out with nothing," Soul told him, handing him the cash. Iida looked over the money carefully, trying to remember his knowledge of USD. Counting it for a minute, Iida found it to be around five hundred bucks.
"I'll try to get you the rest when I can," Soul told him while putting his wallet away quietly. At the same time, Iida looked up from the money before trying to hand it back.
"You don't need to pay me. I was just trying to help," Iida reasoned, with Soul shrugging in response.
"Eh, still feels right to me. I mean it is your engines we copied," Soul told him "Best you get some of the royalties from it."
It… felt off to Iida, but if Soul insisted on it, who was he to oppose? Quietly Iida pocketed the money while watching the vehicle continue to drive around.
Hawks had unfortunately not left Ocelot's tent, much to the cowboy's annoyance. Currently, the hero sat leisurely in a nearby folding chair looking over the news on his phone. Today's assault had been called off, so now the hero thought it wise to mess with Ocelot a smidge. Again, much to Ocelot's annoyance, the cowboy looked over the map in front of him. Things still had not improved on day three, if anything, they'd gotten worse.
In some parts of the city, the Ninth Circle had been able to advance, managing to claim a full kilometer. Now Ocelot was scraping together what heroes remained to keep the enemy from advancing anymore. Of course that was becoming more impossible by the hour.
"Could help and make yourself useful," Ocelot muttered, carefully moving a few pieces on the map before him. Unlike with the MSF, he had no official unit pieces to designate what was what. Nothing to show what was a squad, or a helicopter, or practically anything with a NATO designation. So instead he used small miniatures the Ocelots had gone out to buy.
"Oh, I'm making myself plenty useful," Hawks replied, glancing over his phone with a smirk.
"By doing what, scrolling through social media?" Ocelot inquired, adjusting more pieces on the map.
"Nah, just some good old intel gathering," Hawks replied, standing up from his seat, "Found a few civilians posting about villain hideouts. Even got a photo of one of the villains' howitzers."
He then held out his phone for Ocelot to see, the cowboy looking it over quietly. The photo was blurry, and somewhat out of focus. But Hawks was telling the truth, it showed a howitzer's barrel poking out a warehouse's window. Quietly Ocelot marked the howitzer on his map, while Hawks gave out a chuckle.
"So, how's Madam President?" Hawks asked calmly, swiping one of Ocelot's miniatures with his feather.
"Angrier than yesterday, that's for sure," Ocelot replied, watching as the feather brought the miniature to Hawks's hand.
"We talking firing everyone mad, or physical destruction mad?" Hawks inquired, with Ocelot shrugging.
"I'd assume both," Ocelot muttered, before grabbing a new miniature. Hawks looked almost like he was going to say something else before someone started shouting outside the tent.
"You son of a bitch!" someone shouted, as more voices quickly began to take hold. Confused, Ocelot looked at Hawks, only for the hero to be just as confused. Cautiously Ocelot grabbed one of his revolvers, before heading outside his tent. There he found a surprising sight, as hero fought against hero. It wasn't a full-on brawl thankfully, but it was getting close.
"Get your damn hands off me!" a hero dressed as a Musketeer shouted, wrestling against another hero dressed as a Mountain Climber. Around them, other heroes fought as well, before cops began joining the fight. Then firefighters started joining in, and paramedics soon after. Ocelot couldn't help but watch stunned, baffled as to what was happening. But then he got his answer.
"I'm not going back out there! You can't make me!" the Musketeer shouted angrily, before slugging the mountain climber in the jaw.
"You fucking coward! A bunch of villains got you scared shitless!" the mountain climber yelled back, with Ocelot slowly recognizing who they were. Ice Pick, the mountain hero was one of their new arrivals from across the country. A replacement for the others that had died so quickly.
"Don't you judge me! You haven't seen what I have! You don't know what those freaks have done!" the Musketeer retorted, earning a scoff from Ice Pick.
"That isn't a damn excuse! You're going back out there with the rest of us!" Ice Pick told him, only earning angry cries from other heroes fighting.
"Hell no!" one shouted, running out to back up the Musketeer.
"I'm not dying out there!" another proclaimed, trying to run from the camp entirely. It was getting bad enough that others were running to join him.
"Traitors! All of you damn traitors!" a different hero lambasted, before tackling the fleeing hero.
"Call me a traitor all you want! Hell arrest me for it! Take me as far away from this shit hole!" the fleeing hero replied uncaringly. Quickly Ocelot couldn't help but grumble. He should have expected this, the cowboy looking out at the crowd again. On and on the panicked cries went out
"I didn't become a hero for this! All I wanted was a paycheck! Not to get slaughtered out there!"
"I-I'm just a patrol officer! And you want to send me back into that! I've got a family back home, I can't leave them!"
"They're animals out there! Nothing but a bunch of fucking animals!"
"I was just trained to fight fires! Not this!"
"They were mounting heroes on pikes out there!"
"Fuck the pikes! They were crucifying people! Saw a dozen people hoisted up on a cross!"
"Why the hell are we even here!? Shouldn't this be the JSDF's job!? It's their guns littering the city!"
"Yeah! Have the JSDF clean up their damn mess!"
"I-I can't do this! Please! Don't make me go!"
"You're all cowards! Civilians are still trapped in the city and you're just going to leave them there!?" Ice Pick shouted, angrily looking at the surrounding crowd of emergency personnel.
"What else are we supposed to do!? Hundreds of heroes are dead, and we haven't gotten anywhere!" an SAT member loudly demanded, others yelling in agreement.
"I'm not going in there just to die for nothing!" another SAT member yelled, a hero stepping up next to him.
"By brother's already dead because of this damn battle! Thrown away for a hundred meters of land! Land we abandoned minutes later!" the hero angrily yelled, voicing the tired opinion everyone held. They were sick of this battle, of the constant death, of the assaults that went nowhere, and of the never-ending brutality. This fighting couldn't go on though, Ocelot thought annoyed.
"Hawks," Ocelot commented, the hero clicking his tongue.
"On it," Hawks replied quickly, his feathers flying out in seconds. They flew up and past the people fighting, knocking back several to break everyone up. Once the fight was broken up, Ocelot thought for a second. What was he supposed to do now? This was the first case of heroes- no, of everyone refusing to go to the front. It wouldn't take long for desertions to follow suit, and he knew how much of a field day the media would have with that.
Once desertion started though, Ocelot knew the line would crack. Even with fresh heroes coming in, they'd soon be joining either the dead or the heroes refusing to fight.
"What!?" the chief couldn't help but yell, as Tsukauchi moved to cover his ears. The detective sighed seconds after, unsure of what to do. Currently, he sat in the chief's office, with the highest-ranking officers still alive. Which at this point, was a pair of senior patrol officers and some desk jockeys who hadn't seen the field in years. Across from him sat the chief at his desk, the man angry and shocked.
On the phone was Ocelot, who relayed some very worrying news.
"The hell do you mean no one is coming!?" the chief demanded shocked, with Ocelot sighing on the other end.
"Exactly that. All assaults have been called off until further notice," Ocelot replied, leaving the chief to grumble annoyed.
"Until further notice… how long until they start up again?" the chief asked, with the sound of paper shuffling following through the phone.
"I'd say… a few weeks at the least," Ocelot replied, more paper shuffling in the background.
"A… a few weeks…" the chief muttered shocked, turning slightly pale, "Can't you start the assaults up again? You've got hundreds of heroes with you!"
"And half of them don't want to fight," Ocelot replied, leaving the room quiet. Tsukauchi looked at the phone shocked, wondering if he'd heard Ocelot right. They… they didn't want to fight?
"Cops then! There's a legion of first responders with you!" the chief reasoned, trying to power through the shock of what he'd just heard.
"None of them want to go in either," Ocelot replied, "Everyone on the front is holding on by a damn thread. Doesn't matter if they're heroes, cops, firefighters, or paramedics, none of them want to keep fighting. Hell, I'm sure most of them will turn tail and run the first chance they get."
Again, the office went quiet, as the ramifications of everything began to weigh down on them.
"So… that… that's it," the chief muttered, "No one else is coming…"
No one. It… it was terrifying to Tsukauchi. No one else was coming. All these heroes and first responders brought in from across the country, and not one wanted to fight. They were alone in this, Tsukauchi thought terrified. No one else was coming to save them, to save anyone. At least not for another few weeks. But by then, would it even matter?
They hadn't made any progress now, who's to say they'd make any next time? As Ocelot hung up, no one said a word. The chief began to rub his eyes tiredly, before slamming his fist onto the desk. It was here, that Tsukauchi remembered what Nezu said. About allowing the MSF into the city. Part of Tsukauchi despised the idea thoroughly. There was still so much about the MSF he didn't know.
But at this point, what else was he supposed to do?
"Chief," Tsukauchi said, the man looking up at the detective quietly.
"What?" the chief asked tiredly. Tsukauchi took a deep breath as he looked at the chief. It had to be done, Tsukauchi reasoned.
"We need to call Nezu," Tsukauchi told him, the chief slowly grumbling.
"Are you out of your damn mind?" the chief inquired, rubbing his brow annoyed,
"Chief-" Tsukauchi tried to argue, only for the chief to cut him off.
"I'm not letting those villains into the city. It's already bad enough with this damn cult," the chief muttered, "This… this is a setback, but I'm sure we'll think of something."
The words quickly made Tsukauchi angry, as the chief stood up from his chair. The image of dead coworkers flashed through his mind. Coworkers that should have been alive right now. Instead, their blood stained the station's floor.
"All we've been doing is trying to think of something," Tsukauchi grumbled angrily, "Yet we're all still stuck in this station."
"We'll find another option," the chief told him, moving to grab a map from a nearby filing cabinet.
"And we have one available," Tsukauchi countered, earning an annoyed scoff from the chief.
"You know how I feel about this idea Tsukauchi. I won't have those mercs dropping bombs on this city," the chief retorted, with Tsukauchi becoming angrier by the second. There wasn't going to be a city left at this point. All Tsukauchi had to do was look out the nearest window, and he could see streets lined with rubble and corpses. He was sick of all this, and it had to end.
"What like the cult outside has been doing for the last three days!? The city's already a wreck! At this point, they'd just be blowing up rubble!" Tsukauchi angrily yelled, earning a surprised glare from the chief.
"Rubble that still has trapped civilians, Tsukauchi!" the chief reasoned, as Tsukauchi slammed his fists on the desk
"Except Nezu told you he'd ensure the MSF took proper precautions!" Tsukauchi pointed out, "All you're having us do, is sit and wait!"
"The heroes will take back the city, they just need time!" the chief told him, but by now Tsukauchi was sick of this. Sick of everything happening, and sick that he'd been forced to sit back for days.
"Time for what!? You heard what Ocelot said, no one else is coming!" Tsukauchi retorted, leaving the chief silent for a moment. It took a second, but the chief's face shifted away from anger and slowly became downtrodden. The detective could see it at this point, the chief was grasping at straws. He truly believed the heroes would have saved them by now, and yet… nothing. No one had arrived to save the day. The conflict was still raging, with no clear end in sight.
"We are alone out here. We've got no extra water, we've got no extra medicine, and we've got barely enough ammunition. For crying out loud, the break room vending machine is our only source of food, and that's already running out of snacks," Tsukauchi continued, watching as the chief slumped back into his chair. The chief tiredly ran a hand through his hair, as Tsukauchi leaned forward in his chair.
"I don't like this idea either, but what else are we supposed to do?" Tsukaushi asked, the chief just quietly sighing. The man turned to stare at his phone, quietly thinking everything over. He made no move to grab it but didn't say anything to oppose Tsukauchi. Quietly, Tsukauchi hoped the chief would choose correctly.