"My car—!!!!"
Mouri Kogoro watched his now-wrecked car, letting out a heart-wrenching wail.
He had no idea how many cars he'd had destroyed by now. After being blown up by bombs, crushed by falling corpses from high altitudes, and plunging into rivers, he had now unlocked a new way for his car to be scrapped.
"Dad! Never mind the car! Hide quickly!"
Ran snapped out of her shock, pointing at the sky in terror.
"That was a missile just now! It's a terrorist attack!"
Mouri Kogoro looked up.
Two AH-64 "Apache" attack helicopters were circling low over the concert venue.
From beneath the nose of one of them, a 30mm chain gun was spewing fire wildly. Bullets rained down on the surrounding buildings, shattering glass and sending bricks flying, eliciting screams from the citizens of Beika City.
"Quick! Take shelter in the underground supermarket over there!"
Mouri Kogoro pointed to a nearby underground supermarket, pulling Ran with one hand and roughly grabbing Conan by the back of his collar with the other, as Conan still tried to push forward.
"Let go of me! Uncle!"
Conan struggled desperately.
Because just now, he had seen a side profile of someone wearing a top hat and long silver hair in the co-pilot's seat of one of the Apache helicopters.
He suspected that person was Gin and wanted a clearer look.
If he had the chance, he wanted to kick the helicopter down with a soccer ball.
But before he could act, Mouri Kogoro's fist mercilessly slammed onto his head.
"You brat! Do you have a death wish?! Those are real missiles and machine guns! Not toys! Behave yourself! Terrorists won't spare you just because you're a child!"
Mouri Kogoro roared, dragging Conan without explanation, and along with Ran, rushed into the entrance of a large nearby underground supermarket with the panicked crowd... At the same time in the air, inside the two Apache attack helicopters.
One was piloted by Korn, while the hot-tempered Chianti, enjoying the thrill of destruction, manipulated the cannon, wildly strafing streets and buildings, continuously letting out excited screeches.
The other helicopter was piloted by Calvados, and in the co-pilot's seat, Gin was holding an encrypted communicator, speaking with Akai Shuichi of the FBI.
"Akai Shuichi! You FBI hyena!"
Gin made no attempt to hide his killing intent, his tone extremely forceful.
"Those few missiles just now were my warning! I'm giving you ten minutes to release Vodka immediately. Otherwise..."
He paused, looking down through the porthole at the massive concert venue below.
Inside the venue, the audience, panicked by the attack, was huddled together, gathered at the entrance.
"Otherwise, the next Hellfire missile will land in the most crowded part of the concert. You FBI wouldn't want that, would you?"
Gin's tone was flat, but the threat in his words was unmistakable.
On the other end of the communicator, Akai Shuichi's face in his hotel room turned extremely grim.
He clenched his fist and said angrily, "Gin, you're a lunatic! Where did you get these military helicopters from?!"
Logically, these Apache attack helicopters were strictly controlled by the U.S. military, Gin shouldn't have been able to get his hands on them.
"That's none of your business."
Gin said coldly.
"Let me remind you again, cursing also counts as time. You only have two choices, either release him, or... be responsible for those hundreds of thousands of lives. The clock starts now."
James Black, who was eavesdropping nearby, turned livid with rage.
He had originally thought that successfully capturing Vodka was a great achievement, but he never expected to stir up such a hornet's nest.
They had captured Black Organization code-named members before, but at that time, the organization's reaction was merely to kill the captured person before they could reveal any information.
There were never such extreme actions as now.
James glanced at Vodka, who looked like a fat slob, and was infuriated.
"Bluff! They must be bluffing! I don't believe they have the guts to do that! This is an open provocation against our FBI!"
He slammed his hand on the table, walked in front of Akai Shuichi, snatched the communicator, and roared into it:
"Gin! Don't be too arrogant! This is Japan! It's not a place where your organization can do whatever it wants! Do you think two Apaches can scare our FBI?! We've already called for support from the U.S. forces stationed in Japan! You won't get away! We will never compromise with terrorists!"
James's attitude was extremely firm, he believed that with the power of the U.S. military, they could take down these two helicopters.
But Akai Shuichi's heart sank.
He knew Gin, he was a madman with no bottom line for the sake of the organization.
Let alone attacking a concert venue, he would even attack the Tokyo Tower!
U.S. military support would take time, and in those few minutes, Gin would have enough time to carry out a horrific attack.
On one side was the temptation to arrest Vodka and obtain information about the organization, and on the other were the lives of countless innocent civilians below... Akai Shuichi was faced with a difficult choice.
He indeed wanted to dismantle the Black Organization, but he was absolutely unwilling to see ordinary citizens suffer a bloodbath because of the FBI's actions.
"Officer James," Akai Shuichi stepped forward, "We cannot risk the lives of so many people..."
"What do you mean? You want me to release this pig?"
James's eyes widened in anger.
"Agent Akai, do you know what you're saying? This concerns national dignity. If we compromise with terrorists, where does that leave our country's face?
After this, are we still going to make arrests? If every criminal, once caught, has their accomplices pull a stunt like this, we might as well disband the FBI."
Akai Shuichi's face was ashen, and he retorted:
"You're right, sir. But what if... this didn't happen in Japan, but on American soil? Would you still say that?"
Time passed by minute by minute.
Gin, who had not received news of Vodka's release, could wait no longer and aimed at the densely crowded area of the concert below.
A Hellfire missile, trailing exhaust, roared out.