It's a big deal…
Hattori Heiji stood there, numb.
He had a sickening sense of déjà vu, but magnified a thousand times—like a child who lit a firecracker only to burn down the entire neighborhood.
It collapsed…
The largest traffic suspension bridge in Hatsukaichi had collapsed into the sea.
It was blown apart by a pack of high-grade plastic explosives thrown by the driver of the black Porsche.
At that moment, there were dozens of vehicles and innocent pedestrians on the suspension bridge. They fell into the churning waters below in an instant.
The tremor caused by the collapse could be felt by residents across the entire city of Hatsukaichi.
The only small mercy was that it was a suspension bridge over water. If it had been over a residential area, the death toll would have been unimaginable.
The Murderer…
Hattori's eyes were red with rage and unshed tears.
This major case was enough to attract every camera and reporter in the country.
This was News.
Big News.
A tragedy that would be broadcast repeatedly on every radio station and TV channel for weeks.
Dozens, perhaps over a hundred people, died in an instant.
If these deaths were scattered throughout the year, they wouldn't cause a ripple. But to have them all happen in one place, at one time, caused by a terrorist act?
Absolutely not.
The sensitive and angry citizens would riot. They would tear down the Hatsukaichi Police Station brick by brick demanding answers.
What hatred?
What resentment?
Hattori wanted to run away. The commotion was too big.
And there was a voice in his head, a voice of crushing guilt: Did I cause this?
If I hadn't tipped off the police… if I hadn't provoked them… would the murderers have just left quietly?
At most, a few people might have died in secret. At most, one or two international criminals would have escaped.
But compared to this… what kind of loss is this?
In the end, Hattori touched his conscience and chose not to escape.
He sent a message to his father, Heizo Hattori, and then stared at the direction where the murderers fled with bloodshot eyes.
Hundreds of deaths.
Good.
It's really good…
Hatsukaichi Police Station
Afterwards.
Hattori Heiji, the insider and the person who called the police, was taken to the station.
The Branch Chief looked at the son of the Hattori family expressionlessly.
Heizo… you have raised a "good" son.
"Retrieve the city surveillance. Organize personnel to isolate the crash site. And… try to intercept the car."
With an outsider present, the Chief only gave the order in a subtle, unenthusiastic way.
But the anxious Hattori couldn't hear the hesitation. He was desperate to atone for the disaster by catching them.
"It's the Port Area! They're going to the Port Area! Stop them! We can't let them get away!"
Beside him, a senior police officer hesitated to speak, looking at Hattori as if he were mentally disabled.
It was already this bad.
And he still wants to provoke them?
The most important thing now was to rescue the survivors and appease the public. As for the murderers…
There are many unsolved cases in the archives. Letting international terrorists escape to avoid causing greater disasters is a common, unspoken tactic in the history of the police force when dealing with organizations they are ill-equipped to fight.
What needed to be considered here was not Justice, but Damage Control.
Finally, the Branch Chief closed his eyes.
"...Try to intercept it. But do not engage recklessly."
However, under this command, one after another "shocking" scenes flowed in from the surveillance feeds.
First, a patrol car that chased too closely was shredded by submachine gun fire from the Porsche's window.
Then, to divert attention, the black car threw more explosive packs onto the roadside, causing panic.
Secondly, from all directions, support fire came. Snipers positioned on rooftops—Organization members covering the retreat—pinned down the police.
As long as the black car showed a sign of weakness, these hidden shadows would wipe out the pursuing officers.
In the end, they could only watch helplessly as the people in the classic car drove onto a cargo ship leaving the port.
At this moment, Hattori Heiji was completely frantic.
"Intercept them! You must stop them! Notify the Coast Guard! Notify the Maritime Self-Defense Force!"
"ENOUGH!"
The Branch Chief's voice was ruthless.
He stared at the boy with extremely cold, dead eyes. His expression was slightly distorted by stress.
"Let them go."
"No! They just killed—"
"I SAID…"
Cold and sharp.
As the Chief of the Police, his authority crushed the room.
That cold gaze finally sobered Hattori up. Cold sweat ran down his face as he realized the reality of the situation.
"Let. Them. Go."
Mizunotsuki Residence
Hmm.
It has the flavor of a police movie.
Seiran Mizunotsuki nodded with satisfaction at the chaos.
The Branch Chief might hate Hattori Heiji right now, but Seiran liked him very much.
Hattori, who didn't understand politics and was only focused on "Justice," naturally made the situation explode.
Of course, to the public, it looked like a tragedy.
But to Seiran, it was just… content.
At most, a Police Chief will be dismissed and investigated. A bridge collapsed. Some people died.
This is the reality of bureaucracy.
If you don't understand it, you're blessed. If you know too much, the world looks abstract.
Take the Metropolitan Police Department as an example. In this era, the police often look like yes-men to high school detectives.
Why?
Because the Police are unwilling to bear the responsibility of Failure.
If a Detective is involved, the public's attention shifts.
If the case is solved, the Police get the credit for "cooperating."
If the case isn't solved, or goes wrong, the Detective takes the blame for "interfering."
In Seiran's view, institutions often prefer a quiet failure to a loud, messy success. They would rather let a criminal slip away than risk a bloodbath in the city center that would ruin their careers.
So, expecting the local police to fight the Black Organization to the death without proper support?
What a joke.
Overseas: Black Organization Secure Base
"GET AWAY!"
Vodka, supporting his unconscious Big Brother, roared with a ferocious face.
Smack!
He rudely slapped the hand of Rum, the Organization's No. 2, who had reached out to help.
The entire hangar went silent.
No way.
Did Vodka just slap Rum?
Even Vermouth, who had hurried over from the US, looked interested.
"I want to see the Boss! I want to see the Boss!! RIGHT NOW!"
Vermouth noticed that Vodka was trembling. He was clutching his chest pocket tightly, protecting something.
It seemed that he was hiding something vital.
Because of this "thing," Vodka was hyper-vigilant. He rejected even high-ranking members. His hand was on his gun, ready to shoot anyone—even Rum—who came too close.
So…
What is the secret that made Gin risk his life?
What is the secret that makes a loyal dog like Vodka bare his fangs at his masters?
Rena Mizunashi (Kir), hiding in the corner, did not show any sign of hesitation.
She just observed the reactions of the crowd with a cold, analytical face.
Some were interested.
Some were greedy.
Some seemed to be smiling in amusement.
And all of them were trying to see what Vodka was guarding with his life.
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