The Little Prince in the Ossuary
chapter-81-30041322

00081 — #Hardened Earth —

#Hardened Earth, Fort Roberts (4)

The wind grew fiercer and fiercer as the day eventually turned to dusk. Raindrops sounded like ice, crashing hard against the roofs. Rainwater soaked through sleeves and collars to the underwear and collected in combat boots, too. Gyeo-ul felt a little sluggish as his hands and feet felt soggy. He felt okay overall, but it would be dangerous if he were exposed to the cold for a few more hours. He was concerned about hypothermia and mild frostbite.

The road to 74th Street was a scene of excessive suppression. Watery blood was everywhere.

Mounted police rushed toward a gang member who had been resisting with a club. The man, who had frozen in the face of the speed and pressure, was eventually run over by one of the horses. His elbow bent backward. A triple rod fell on him, who had been drooling and howling. Thud, thud! The sound of a person being beaten in the rain was terrible.

The police then built a wall with their shields. In the dim light, they cast a dark shadow and looked intimidating even to Gyeo-ul. The police didn’t offer a surrender to the gang members they’d cornered, instead indiscriminately firing rubber bullets at them.

Police carrying a six-shot grenade launcher fired all six at the gang, who fled in the direction of the boy officer. Many of them were hit in the back of the head and went down. Gyeo-ul snatched up one of the fallen projectiles. It was a rubber bullet with no killing power.

Still, it could kill people at a close distance.

The boy checked his pulse by pressing two fingers to the fallen gang member’s neck. He wouldn’t die. However, since he’d been hit on the head, there was the possibility of a skull or spinal fracture or cerebral hemorrhage. The police who had been carrying the grenade launcher were now all hesitating with their handcuffs. Gyeo-ul stepped back and let them deal with him.

He didn’t know if he should be glad that they hadn’t been intending to kill. The resistance to U.S. police with lethal weapons was good enough.

‘Should I call for restraint from excessive suppression?’

The agitated police would listen to the boy who had become a hero.

Gyeo-ul fiddled with the radio and finally let it go without saying anything. He had a variety of things to consider. The first one that came to his mind was a man with a rusty knife. One of the hungry assassins he’d encountered during the night while the boy was still a volunteer. Killing him without hesitation had not been something to be looked down upon.

The same was true now. A severe crackdown would be a strong warning to criminals in other areas. As a result, the sacrifice would be rather small.

Of course, the punishment would not necessarily be right, either.

On the other hand, there was a positive attitude towards suppression. To make sure criminals who sold drugs, people, or their lives came to their senses, they had to be severe. They were also people who celebrated with tattoos in prison.

After all, it was not that easy to change people. They reminded him of two who had never changed.

‘Father and Mother.’

Gyeo-ul paused as anger rushed through him.

‘Is this the world you thought was good because you didn’t have to hold your temper?’

For a moment, the boy lost the ability to see properly as he seethed.

The pause was not long. Audiences from different worlds found this strange. Usually, Gyeo-ul’s ideas were sent to the audience in a “teletype” string, but not now. The boy hastened his steps, recalling that this was not his world.

As he walked, he filled the shotgun with ammunition.

A group of police was gathered in front of the first tent on 74th Street. The captain of the task force saw Gyeo-ul and hastily got to his feet.

“You’re here. I’ve been waiting.”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s a hostage crisis, but… The hostage-taker is looking for the lieutenant.”

“Me?”

Gyeo-ul tilted his head. Through the wind that was howling like a wolf, someone was shouting in poor English. It was a cry to bring in Lieutenant Han Gyeo-ul. Just hearing his voice made Gyeo-ul feel his anger.

Gyeo-ul then asked the police officer, “Have you talked to him?”

“I’ve tried several times and failed. His English is so poor… He seemed to have nothing to say but to bring in Lieutenant Han Gyeo-ul. His pronunciation was a mess, so I barely understood it. But that doesn’t mean that any of us can speak Chinese. There are some negotiating experts, but they’re useless.”

The task force leader then further summarized the situation. 3333

“The hostage-taker is a Chinese man in his thirties or forties, armed with a pistol. The pistol is cheap and without any safety mechanism. The hostage is a Chinese woman in her twenties. His only requirements are that no one is to come in and to bring the lieutenant. There was nothing else. It’s not easy to shoot because he’s inside the tent, and even if I try using tear gas, the life of the hostage will be in danger, so I decided to bring you in.”

“I understand the situation. Let me go in.”

The boy spoke so lightly that the captain’s response was delayed a little. When he did speak, he tried to dissuade Gyeo-ul from entering.

“Won’t it be dangerous?”

“I’ll just be doing what I have to. It’s always the case. Risk is the next concern.”

“Well… I’ve heard so many rumors, but I’m embarrassed because you match up to them.”

Gyeo-ul smiled at him. Then he grabbed him by the collar and pulled him to the side.

Thump! A wooden board, flying like the wind, passed through the space where the captain had been, hit the ground, and spun. The police nearby scattered with surprise. When he belatedly realized that he had almost been struck, the captain of the task force looked awkward.

“Thank you, lieutenant.”

“You’re welcome. Anyway, I’ll go in.”

“It may mean nothing, but be careful. Lieutenant, you shouldn’t get hurt in a place like this. If you’re drawing attention, we’ll find another way.”

The tent could be lifted at any point. It would be useless if the criminal were wary of all sides, but there was some possibility if he were to induce his carelessness.

‘In that case, in all likelihood, he will be shot dead.’

The basic way of responding to hostage-takers was to kill.

After winking at a police officer, Gyeo-ul went into the large tent. As with any Chinese organization, red-colored decorations stood out to him, a sign that this place was one of the Jikye Tong strongholds. They were in partnership with the Annyang Gongsan Association.

As soon as he saw the hostage-taker, a Chinese man yelling for the police to bring Han Gyeo-ul in, he took off his mask.

“I came as you wanted. I’m Han Gyeo-ul. Why did you want to meet me?”

The man became quiet. His expression was unexpectedly mild. His eyes drooped down, and there were traces of a smile on his lips.

‘Good looks can be a quality of evil. You can fool people easily.’

The opponent observed Gyeo-ul. Gyeo-ul observed his opponent. He held a very simple-looking pistol; it only had basic functions but was, therefore, more reliable.

It smelt disgusting in the tent. The woman who had been taken hostage seemed to have peed in fear. Of course, it would have been rather strange if she was calm since a pistol without a safety device was pressed against her temple. Her lips were blue, her face was white, and her eyes were constantly shifting. All this undermined her natural beauty. The rare appearance and revealing costume gave an idea of how she suffered under the gangsters.

When Gyeo-ul’s eyes met hers, the woman moved her lips.

“Save me, please. I want to live… help me….”

A scream ensued shortly afterward. The hostage-taker had hit her with the pistol’s handle.

The gunman, who had sweat on his forehead, gave Gyeo-ul a warm smile.

“I know you, but you don’t know me. Nice to meet you, lieutenant. I’m Sungsigui from Jikye Tong. I’m the leader.”

Tong was a self-sustaining collaboration of Chinese people living in the United States. Annyang Gongsan was also commonly referred to as Annyang Tong. Their original purpose was to help each other in a strange country, but in fact, they were often criminal organizations. This was all due to the tendency to put the interests of Chinese religion before the laws of the United States, based on an exclusive national consciousness.

‘Without a sense of wrong, they are people who commit crimes, taking them for granted.’

Gyeo-ul had no good feelings about them. As he’d said to the leader of the Damul Promotion Association before, nationalism, which is not a premise of global citizenship, is the devil’s faith.

“Let’s skip wasting time. What do you want from me?”

“Huh, you’re impatient. We are the heads of each other’s organizations. Let’s have a more polite conversation.”

“Polite conversation?”

Gyeo-ul deliberately looked pathetic. At the same time, he glanced once at the woman. The intention was clear, and the impressive gangster leader sighed.

“We have different commitments, so I hope you understand this. With tolerance for the weak.”

“…”

This was going to be a really pathetic time. Gyeo-ul dragged a nearby chair over and sat opposite the hostage-taker. With a loaded shotgun on his lap, he looked at his opponent a little crooked.

‘How can I stimulate him in moderation? He worries, decides, and acts.’

“I don’t know how much I can stand. Save your time, gangster.”

“…You’re very different from what I’ve heard.”

They were cold, quiet words, given as Gyeo-ul fiddled with his shotgun. The gangster’s expression hardened a little. Gyeo-ul’s intention was to give him the impression that he could easily quit the conversation at any time and sacrifice a hostage. Sigui nodded.

“But when you’re leading a lot of people, one face is not enough. You need a lot of faces to respond to the situation. A good man cannot be rich; a rich man cannot be good.”

Gyeo-ul was still listening. Confronted with the boy’s silence, the gangster’s words accelerated. It was so subtle that it would be hard to notice unless one was paying close attention. However, he did not let his guard down as he looked around constantly.

“Mr. President, let the police back down for now.”

“Do you think that’s possible?”

“You can tell your people to stand down.”

Listening to Sigui, Gyeo-ul asked calmly, “What makes you think I can?”

“I know you’re hanging out with the cops these days.”

“Only because of that?”

“It won’t work if it’s not you. Who can ignore you in this form? You’re the only one who can handle this situation.”

“Isn’t Captain Markert the one you should ask for?”

“Huh. How can I compare him to you? He’s just a cop now. I didn’t trust him from the outset. He didn’t take advantage of his loyalty to either side, but he was threatening to help the other side if we didn’t offer him benefits.”

Although somewhat exaggerated, Gyeo-ul seemed to be able to guess what Captain Markert had been doing. The boy raised his chin and asked again, “Okay, say I get rid of the police. Hit it. What’s next?”

“It’s our turn to pay. Throw away the dying Triad. One of the maxims of the Korean people is that they sell their wives to buy good friends. Jikye Tong is with Annyang Tong. You have more to gain from us than from the leader of the Triad.”

“I don’t really understand.”

“How about this?” Sigui smiled playfully and touched the hostage’s chest. He seemed to be showing off his products. Gyeo-ul slowly lifted his gun. The gangster boss, who thought he had a gap, quickly fixed his posture to use the hostage as a shield. However, what the boy was trying to target was also the hostage.

The slow aim was because he was scared he would pull the trigger, thinking he was shooting Sigui.

Gyeo-ul turned to the hostage and spoke. “I’m sorry.”

“What?”

Boom! A shotgun bullet blasted into the woman’s left clavicle. She didn’t even scream but fainted immediately from the pain and the shock.

Sigui was surprised.

‘Don’t tell me you really didn’t think I would shoot the hostage.’

Before Sigui reacted, before he could realize what Gyeo-ul had just shot was a non-lethal bullet, Gyeo-ul shot again. Bam! Sigui’s face broke.

“Ahhh!”

He spat broken teeth out of his mouth, and tears of blood fell from his ruptured eyes. Gyeo-ul got up from his seat and threw the chair. Thud! Fragments flew everywhere. Sigui ended up dropping his pistol, and Gyeo-ul kicked it away.

Having heard the gunfire, the police task force quickly entered. They caught a glimpse of the situation and called in the medical team, who were waiting in front of the tent just in case. However, they wanted to treat the boy officer before the gangster boss or hostage.

“I was worried when I heard that you went in alone. I’m glad you’re all right.”

“What are you doing? Take care of the injured first!”

“Oh, yes! Excuse me.”

Gyeo-ul watched as the task force immediately moved in to treat the victims.