The midday Tokyo heat was scorching, and blindingly bright sunlight fell upon the streets.
Seated in his thirteenth-generation Toyota Crown, Kumazo Yasuda enjoyed the air conditioning, insulated from the sweltering conditions outside. His suit showed no sign of sweat. He was in the backseat, flanked by two tall, sturdy bodyguards, with two more in the front. This Toyota Crown was his private, custom-ordered model, equipped with bulletproof and explosion-proof features.
Aside from this vehicle, two identical cars, one ahead and one behind, carried elite bodyguards. There were no police cars clearing the way, a asure to avoid alerting other intelligence agencies to anything unusual. In Tokyo these days, it was better to travel discreetly than with a high-profile escort.
Kumazo Yasuda mulled over his upcoming eting with Kochou and the five major conglorates.
Suddenly, the driver spotted a child darting out from an intersection and instinctively slamd on the brakes.
Kumazo Yasuda, not wearing his seatbelt, nearly lurched forward. He braced himself against the seat in front of him and yelled, "What happened?"
"Terribly sorry, sir! A child ran out," the driver replied, honking the horn. He didn’t see the child get up.
He didn’t exit the vehicle to check. According to bodyguard protocol, such a situation had to be considered a potential deliberate trap; the doors of this car were not to be opened.
He picked up the intercom. "Saburo, go check it out."
The car in front stopped. Saburo, in the rear seat, disengaged his weapon’s safety, opened the door, and called out, "Kid, hurry up and—"
Before he could finish, blood erupted from his head, and he slumped to the ground.
The bodyguards in the lead car reacted instantly. Just as one was about to move, a figure dashed out from the intersection wielding a VECTOR submachine gun and sprayed bullets into the car with the open door. His weapon was equipped with a silencer, so the gunfire wasn’t particularly loud. After just a few soft POPS, the three bodyguards in the car were sprayed with blood, their seats riddled with holes.
The driver, startled, was just about to request backup from the tropolitan Police Departnt.
THUMP. The sound of soone landing on the car roof followed. Then, two pale hands planted two C4 charges on the rear right-side window.
BEEP. BEEP.
The countdown tir started. The bodyguards’ faces turned deathly pale. Two C4 charges?! If that glass blows, anyone inside will be riddled like a hornet’s nest!
"Quick! Protect the Pri Minister! Get him out of here!"
The bodyguards hastily unbuckled their seatbelts. The bulletproof briefcase from the backseat was grabbed.
The bodyguard in the front passenger seat quickly disengaged his weapon’s safety, opened the door, and fired blindly upwards.
Seizing the opportunity, another bodyguard shielded Kumazo Yasuda and hurried him out of the car.
The car behind them had also imdiately used their intercom to call the tropolitan Police Departnt for reinforcents, only to find their signal was being jamd.
Soone else quickly opened a door in the rear car and shouted, "Quick! Bring the Pri Minister over here!"
Crouching low, Kumazo Yasuda followed the bodyguards’ instructions and ran towards the rear vehicle.
The two C4 charges didn’t explode.
They were toys.
But at critical monts, even toys could serve an incredible purpose. Number Nine’s only goal had been to lure them out of the car; otherwise, breaching the vehicle from the outside would have been quite difficult.
Real explosives were unobtainable on the black market; the U.S. Army maintained strict controls. This wasn’t the Middle East, after all, where one could mysteriously acquire even missiles. Tokyo’s underground market only circulated so firearms.
The bodyguards fired upwards, forgetting about the child who had fallen earlier.
So, when a head, gun in hand, erged from beneath their car, no one noticed.
The dwarf, a gun in each hand, rapidly fired at the bodyguards escorting Kumazo Yasuda.
BANG, BANG, BANG! Firing four shots in quick succession, he took down two bodyguards.
The bodyguards in the rear car quickly fired towards the ground.
The dwarf tried to retreat but was a step too slow. Blood blossod across his upper body as his hands lost the strength to hold his weapons.
Number Nine swiftly leaned out from the right side of the vehicle. One shot hit the bodyguard beside Kumazo Yasuda in the head, instantly killing him and drawing the fire of the other bodyguards. BANG, BANG, BANG! A barrage of shots followed as Number Nine quickly ducked back behind the car.
Simultaneously, a burly figure burst from behind a wall on the other side, wielding a VECTOR submachine gun, and swept it across the area in front. The unprepared bodyguards in the rear car were instantly mowed down.
The last remaining bodyguard tried to turn and fire.
Number Nine leaned out again. Another headshot.
All the bodyguards at the scene were eliminated. Kumazo Yasuda trembled, looking at the corpses around him. "What do you want?" he cried out.
Number Nine casually vaulted over the car roof and landed in front of Kumazo Yasuda. "We just want to invite you for a little trip," he said with a smile. "Don’t worry. As long as you keep your mouth shut and co with us quietly, your safety is guaranteed."
To avoid complications, Number Nine didn’t reveal his purpose beforehand.
A van sped towards them, stopping at the intersection. The doors slid open.
Two Black n wielding VECTOR submachine guns ran towards the van.
Number Nine pushed Kumazo Yasuda into the vehicle and closed the door. The driver, a man with a hippie-ish appearance, put on so rap music and drove the van away from the scene.
Kumazo Yasuda had never seen Number Nine before. He knew about the Tumulus Laboratory and that a clone human was causing trouble, but he had never paid it much mind. There were too many issues demanding his attention; he simply didn’t have the ti to focus on a clone human who could die at any mont.
He discreetly scanned the group that had kidnapped him.
Judging by their appearances, this involves a foreign power. Mossad? MI6? Or so African nation?
Kumazo Yasuda pondered but couldn’t reach a conclusion. He mainly didn’t understand their motive for kidnapping him. He wasn’t a forr official but the current Pri Minister. To do this to him was tantamount to declaring war on all of Japan.
Even the CIA wouldn’t dare attempt such a bold act; those people would, at most, choose to impeach a Pri Minister they disliked. The only people who would brazenly commit such an act were those from the army. But that was a thing of the past; the current Self-Defense Forces don’t have that kind of power.
Kumazo Yasuda’s mind raced. He glanced out the window again, noting that the kidnappers were heading in an unexpected direction. Logically, soone like him should be taken to a remote location, yet this vehicle seed to be heading towards a bustling area.
What was going on?
Kumazo Yasuda desperately wanted to ask, but recalling the blond man’s earlier words, he suppressed the urge. He knew that people daring enough to do this wouldn’t be swayed by re words. Until he understood their objective, it was best for him to remain compliant.
The van entered the underground parking garage of a large building and pulled into a space.
The door opened. Number Nine clapped Kumazo Yasuda on the shoulder. "Please get out," he said with a smile. "Don’t make any strange faces, or you’ll have only yourself to bla if I get rough."
"Do you think you can get away with this?" Kumazo Yasuda said, trying to maintain his dignity as he stepped out of the van, emphasizing the gravity of the situation. "If you let go now, we can pretend nothing happened."
"That won’t do. If nothing happened, then I wouldn’t have needed to bring you here."
The two Black n put their guns into a bag. A smile touched Number Nine’s lips as he nudged Kumazo Yasuda’s shoulder. "Don’t say anything unnecessary. Just co with us."
Kumazo Yasuda had no choice but to follow them to the elevator.
As the elevator doors opened, three people walked out. They glanced at Kumazo Yasuda, then looked away and headed towards their car.
Number Nine entered the empty elevator and pressed the button for the fourteenth floor.
The elevator ascended. Along the way, several people dressed as office workers got in. Each of them glanced at Kumazo Yasuda but said nothing.
Their strangely calm reactions puzzled Kumazo Yasuda. He wasn’t a forr official; he was the current Pri Minister. Why were these people so unperturbed? He didn’t understand.
The elevator reached the fourteenth floor. Number Nine smiled pleasantly. "Excuse , please let us through."
The people in front made way, and he led Kumazo Yasuda out of the elevator.
His three accomplices followed. Not only Kumazo Yasuda but even his accomplices seed baffled by this choice of hiding place.
"Kidnapping and extortion, this brazenly? Is this really okay?" the hippie driver whispered. They didn’t know who their target was. As foreigners from Europe and Arica, it was unrealistic to expect them to know who the Pri Minister of this country was. They assud they had nabbed so rich man and that this was a standard kidnapping for ransom.
"It’s fine. I’m involved too, so how could it be a setup?" Number Nine replied casually, his handso face perfectly calm.
The hippie paused, then nodded. He’s got a point. He’s not just directing from behind the scenes, and we’re all in this together. There can’t be any deceit, right?
From their conversation, Kumazo Yasuda sensed that sothing was off. Kidnap and ransom? Targeting ? This is absurd!
"You wouldn’t happen to be unaware of who I am, would you?" Kumazo Yasuda asked.
Number Nine was still smiling, but his eyes turned icy. "I believe I told you not to talk so much."
"Perhaps we should know his identity," the hippie said. He found this kidnapping bizarrely unconventional. Could we have been set up, used as pawns?
"No way out of this now," Number Nine sighed. His right arm suddenly swelled. In an instant, flesh and sinew contorted over its surface, his fingers becoming as sharp and terrifying as animal claws. The engorged arm swept swiftly across the necks of the two Black n nearest to him. Simultaneously, he drew a pistol with his left hand and shot the hippie, who was reaching for his own weapon.
Blood splattered on the wall and onto Kumazo Yasuda. A woman in office attire standing behind them let out a shrill scream.
Number Nine raised his pistol and silenced her with a single shot. He then turned back to Kumazo Yasuda. "See?" he said, his voice gentle, like a kind elder chiding a misbehaving child. "I told you not to talk. You opened your mouth, and now four people are dead."
Kumazo Yasuda stared at Number Nine’s arm, cold sweat beading on his forehead. He had never t Number Nine, but he had seen the relevant experintal records. "You’re... you’re the escaped clone human?" he stamred.
"Correct," the man said, a smile on his face. "I am Number Nine. Mr. Yasuda, the audience is waiting for your appearance. Don’t keep them waiting too long."
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