The Returner Chapter 261: Didn't You Miss Me? 1

Rumbfield wolf-whistled as he stared at a certain woman through his rifle's scope.

“That ain't no joke, my man.” (Rumbfield)

“What is?” (Bradley)

“That's what you call a killer figure.” (Rumbfield)

“Hey, you dumba*s.” (Bradley)

His spotter, Bradley, flipped him a bird through the scope.

“Hey, don't block the scope, man.” (Rumbfield)

“Why aren't you tense, dude?” (Bradley)

“Tense? My a*s.” (Rumbfield)

Rumbfield was overflowing with confidence right now.

The heavy anti large-creature sniper rifle held in his hands made his heart flutter wildly. This specially-designed and crafted rifle boasted the attack power on another dimension compared to other sniper rifles he had been handling until now.

How shocked was he after test-firing this baby earlier?

His head almost blanked out after realising that a 'small' weapon could possess such destructive power.

“You gotta get it right, dude.” (Bradley)

“Of course.” (Rumbfield)

However, Rumbfield was still yapping on non-stop, which was a sure sign of him being jittery as h.e.l.l.

Through experience, he already knew that his mind wouldn't settle down in these sorts of situations just because he told himself to shut up and be steady.

He was acknowledged to be the best among all the countless snipers in the States, and that was what got him this far. He was proud of that fact, too. Still, there was nothing he could do about getting tense in the current situation.

“It's a bit weird thinking that the very first thing this baby will fire at is that woman over there, though.” (Rumbfield)

“But, she's supposed to be an ability user.” (Bradley)

“Are ability users bullet-resistant or something? I mean, do we really need to use a gun like this? It's not as if we're that far away either.” (Rumbfield)

– “Was the briefing not enough for you?” (Chief of Staff)

“No sir. I'm sorry.” (Rumbfield)

Rumbfield froze up and quickly replied.

Even though the on-field judgement of the situation was left up to his discretion once the mission went underway, there was no freaking way that the current situation was anything but simple when the Army's Chief of Staff was in a direct radio contact with him.

His back muscles seemed to be stretching tight.

– “It's good that you're trying to stay loose, but this is one mission you must succeed no matter what, so don't be too careless.” (Chief of Staff)

“Understood, sir.” (Rumbfield)

– “This matter is of utmost importance. Because, it's a great opportunity to put those ability users and Christopher McLaren doing whatever the h.e.l.l they want in their rightful places. It's now up to you to show these punks that we haven't been sucking on our thumbs doing nothing until now. Let's ring some warning bells in their heads. You feel me?” (Chief of Staff)

“Yes, sir. Of course, sir.” (Rumbfield)

– “Very good. Then, get ready.” (Chief of Staff)

Rumbfield didn't say anything else and grasped the rifle tightly.

'This, just how does this baby work, anyway?' (Rumbfield)

A sniper knowing his weapon inside-out was a must. The problem was, this particular rifle couldn't be disa.s.sembled, and it had been barely three hours since he got his hands on it.

He simply didn't have enough time to understand everything about this gun. The time on hand was just barely enough to set his aim and get familiarised with handling of the weapon.

His only consolation would be that the gun fitted him like glove and he was able to at least get used to it.

Before placing his eye behind the scope, he licked the tip of his finger and raised up in the air.

“Still being old school and all. Is the monitor for a show?” (Bradley)

“Leave me alone. This suits me better.” (Rumbfield)

The device and the monitor allowing him to measure the wind direction and speed to his target were installed right next to him, but Rumbfield trusted his own methods more.

Sure, machines were indeed convenient, but he'd end up missing more if he relied on them all the time.

His proof? His compet.i.tors who swore on those machines not being in this position right now.

He licked his lips slightly and placed his eye behind the scope.

“The angle will change once the bullet enters the gla.s.s.” (Bradley)

“Bradley, let me be, alright? I'm not a kindergartener. We've gone through countless simulations of similar situations, and even trained for it. The number of bullet-proof gla.s.ses I broke in one hour should at least be around one hundred.” (Rumbfield)

“Eii, it's not even close to a hundred.” (Bradley)

He knew that his partner was just trying to remind him of the parts he might forget and at the same time, help him out of his jitters. But when the same thing repeated over and over again, it only raised his ire, instead.

'I gotta calm down.' (Rumbfield)

The fact that he was getting this agitated could only mean that he was really feeling nervous right now. Such nervousness quickened his heart rate, and that also increased the rate of blood flow.

For a sniper who needed to stay still like a rock and eliminate any and all shaking of his body, nervousness was the last thing he needed.

Rumbfield took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment, before opening them again. He focused his mind through the scope and saw the woman lying on the couch across the gla.s.s.

“D*mn it. I must kill a woman like that?” (Rumbfield)

It'd be such a loss to the rest of humanity, though.

“That's a monster, man. Don't get blinded by it.” (Bradley)

“I know. I know, yet….” (Rumbfield)

Even then, Bradley thought that a monster like that shouldn't be too bad. (TL: That's weird, shouldn't this be Rumfield? Did the author make a mistake with the names?)

– “Are you ready?” (Chief of Staff)

“Sir, yes sir.” (Rumbfield)

– “Christopher McLaren is making a move. That d*mn monster has come, too. We don't have time to wait any longer.” (Chief of Staff)

“We're prepared to execute at any time, sir.” (Rumbfield)

– “Good, then. Commence with the mission. No mistake. End it.” (Chief of Staff)

“Roger that.” (Rumbfield)

Rumbfield sucked in another deep breath.

He felt Bradley sneak away in order to not get in his way. And at the same time, all five of his senses seemed to stretch tautly.

'Have a nice trip to heaven.' (Rumbfield)

He may not know how the gun worked, but still, there was no denying the fact that a truly outstanding rifle was currently sitting in his hands.

According to what he heard, this weapon didn't use any gunpowder but some kind of electromagnetism instead, but that wasn't something he should concern himself with.

No, what he should be concerned with was the fact that a shot fired from this rifle could even bore straight through the high-performance bullet-proof gla.s.s installed on the White House's windows.

“Bye bye, babe.” (Rumbfield)

Rumbfield held his breath.

He waited for his body's shaking to stop, and sensed the direction of the wind.

And then….

BLAM!!

A single clean shot.

His bullet penetrated the Oval Office's gla.s.s and accurately struck the head of the woman lying on the couch.

“Target's been hit. I repeat, the target's been hit.” (Rumbfield)

Not even an elephant would survive as long as it was accurately shot in the head. Rumbfield lifted his eye away from behind the scope and released his deeply-held breath.

Seeing how wet his hands were, he must've been really tense for sure.

“You did it. As expected of you!” (Bradley)

“It was nothing much.” (Rumbfield)

Rumbfield put on some airs as he distanced his shoulder away from the rifle's b.u.t.t stock. Thick strands of sweat rolled down his forehead, but Bradley chose not to point that out.

In any case, they successfully pulled the mission off, didn't they?

– “What's the sitrep?” (Chief of Staff)

“It's been taken care of, sir.” (Rumbfield)

– “Did you confirm it?” (Chief of Staff)

“Yes, sir. I've confirmed the bullet hitting the woman's head.” (Rumbfield)

– “Did you actually confirm the woman dying, then?” (Chief of Staff)

“Of cou….” (Rumbfield)

Rumfield didn't finish his words.

He didn't think there would be a problem by not doing that, but still, the report he was making needed to be certain.

– “Confirm it right now!! Right now!!” (Chief of Staff)

'Why is he being so overly dramatic like this?' (Rumbfield)

Even if she was an ability user, there was no way she'd survive after being shot in the head with a sniper rifle capable of penetrating a concrete wall one metre thick.

Wasn't this logically an impossibility?

“Chief?” (Rumbfield)

– “Hurry!!” (Chief of Staff)

Rumbfield heard the urgent voice coming from other side of the radio and tilted his head, before picking up the rifle again. Since he was at some distance away, he needed to use the scope to make his confirmation.

However, once he did, his eyes began trembling non-stop.

“Uh…..” (Rumbfield)

The Oval Office. The big window situated right behind the Presidential desk. That woman was standing there, looking right back at him.

“Uh? Uh??” (Rumbfield)

Something like that couldn't be possible.

He definitely saw the bullet cleanly hit her head with his own two eyes, so….

“Euh, euh….” (Rumbfield)

What was even more terrifying was that….

….That woman was staring straight at him.

From where she was, Rumfield should be smaller than an ant in her view!

“B-but, how?!” (Rumbfield)

Right then…

Wuoonng…..

Pitch-black smoke suddenly filled up the office beyond the gla.s.s.

*

Christopher McLaren yanked his phone out and dialled a number. The moment the call connected, he began roaring in pure rage.

“Hey, you stupid son of a b*tch!! Didn't I tell you to keep a lid on those stupid motherf*ckers?!” (Christopher McLaren)

– “S-sir, I definitely conveyed the message.” (adjutant)

“Conveyed what?? You think it's over because you conveyed some d*mn message?? Find out which dumb as*hole was responsible, and drag that b*stard right in front of my face, now! If you don't want to lose your own head, too!!” (Christopher McLaren)

– “I'll get right on it, sir!!” (adjutant)

“F*ck!!” (Christopher McLaren)

Christopher McLaren threw the phone down on the ground.

“….But, that looked kinda expensive….” (Yi Ji-Hyuk)

He heard a snarky comment coming from his side, but for the time being, he decided to ignore Yi Ji-Hyuk's words.

If he humoured the Korean youth's glib tongue in his current mood, forget about wanting to rip his heart out, he might as well go for a nuclear strike instead!

“Find out what's going on! Hurry! Get some eyes in there, and build me a command centre here, right now!” (Christopher McLaren)

“Sir!!”

Others working for him sensed their boss's gloomy mood and began hurriedly doing their jobs. Several computer monitors were brought in, and a big tent was erected where he stood afterwards.

“Ohh, now that's super quick. Did they practice it or something?” (Yi Ji-Hyuk)

“………..”

Why didn't this guy's mouth come with a mute b.u.t.ton?

And why didn't this as*hole's brain come equipped with an ability to read the atmosphere?!

A man should read the moods before throwing around annoying comments! (Christopher McLaren's inner monologue)

To think that he'd so diligently stick to his ident.i.ty like this. Christopher McLaren was almost at the point of respecting the youth.

“Here, sir!”

The monitors came to life and the Oval Office as shot from within appeared on them.

“Groan….”

Unfortunately, the interior was filled with jet-black smoke-like demonic energy and it was impossible to figure out what was going on inside.

“If only we could confirm the President's safety somehow.” (Christopher McLaren)

Christopher McLaren's head faltered as a look of despair clouded his face.

“Who was it?! Which f*cker was it?!” (Christopher McLaren)

He could make an educated guess.

Most likely, the Department of Defense wanting to achieve a meritorious deed before he made his move was behind this OTT tactic. He figured that it was time those fools started doing something monumentally stupid, so he told his adjutant to keep a lid on those idiots, yet….

“That d*mn stinking Secretary of Defence!” (Christopher McLaren)

It wasn't as if Christopher McLaren started off as a man in charge of ability users. He too had been a part of that world once upon a time. But to think, they'd try to stab him in the back like this.

His teeth began gritting all by themselves, but now wasn't the time to rake them over the coals. If he managed to resolve this situation, then he'd have more than ample enough time to do exactly that later!

“Mister Yi Ji-Hyuk!!” (Christopher McLaren)

“….Well, this, the story's a bit different, isn't it….” (Yi Ji-Hyuk)

Yi Ji-Hyuk stared at the White House with a pouting expression.

The demonic aura leaking out from there felt rather ominously suspicious to him.

'Doesn't seem to be any ol' regular demon king, does it?' (Yi Ji-Hyuk)

Since it did cross over to this world, he needed to kill it somehow, but the density of the demonic aura was nothing to scoff at all.

Just looking at the dark Mana good enough to call one of the purest he'd ever seen pumping out continuously in such a ridiculous amount, made him frown deeply in apprehension.

Dear Readers. Sc.r.a.pers have recently been devasting our views. At this rate, the site (creativenovels .com) might...let's just hope it doesn't come to that. If you are reading on a sc.r.a.per site. Please don't.
“The P-President is in danger.” (Christopher McLaren)

“Eh….”

Yi Ji-Hyuk scratched his head.

“Can I go in after ten minutes or so?” (Yi Ji-Hyuk)

“Why??” (Christopher McLaren)

“You see, now normally, that type of demonic aura is enough to completely melt down a regular person and not leave behind any bones in ten minutes without doing anything, really. So, you could just treat him as MIA….” (Yi Ji-Hyuk)

“Uwaaaah!! Mister Yi Ji-Hyuuuuk?!” (Christopher McLaren)

“I-I got it. I'm going in, alright? I'm going in! So stop crying!” (Yi Ji-Hyuk)

Yi Ji-Hyuk grumbled unhappily and walked out from the tent.

“You going now?” (Jeong Hae-Min)

“Ng.” (Yi Ji-Hyuk)

“Want me to go with you?” (Jeong Hae-Min)

“M-mm….”

Yi Ji-Hyuk stared at Jeong Hae-Min with sulky eyes, before shaking his head.

“Nope. It looks dangerous, so I'll be heading in alone for now.” (Yi Ji-Hyuk)

“Even then, isn't it better being with everyone else? If things become a bit tough, we can just teleport outta there, right?” (Jeong Hae-Min)

“She's right. Let's go together.” (Seo Ah-Young)

“I think the same, as well.” (Choi Jeong-Hoon)

Seo Ah-Young and Choi Jeong-Hoon agreed as well, and Yi Ji-Hyuk nodded his head while looking still unconvinced somewhat.

“Well, in that case….” (Yi Ji-Hyuk)

Others began following him after he decided to not to stop them.

'Do these people carry extra spare lives or something?' (Yi Ji-Hyuk)

They had already experienced what demon kings were like, yet why were they confidently stepping forward like this? Yi Ji-Hyuk spat out a groan and began walking towards the White House.

By the way….

Why…. am I feeling anxious ever since a while ago?

Ng?

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What is this continuous creeping chill down my back? (Yi Ji-Hyuk's inner monologue)

Yi Ji-Hyuk stared at the White House with a weirded-out expression.

There's definitely something in there….

“Eiii, who cares about what's inside, anyway??”

Yi Ji-Hyuk decisively took a step forward.

< 261.="" didn't="" you="" miss="" me?="" -1=""> Fin.