(It's time to start preparing to run.)
Disguised behind a cold, stoic face, Amuro Tooru moved swiftly down the corridor of the building's seventh floor.
The members of that dark organization referred to the facility simply as "the Company."
And indeed, it looked like a regular company on the surface—each floor with its own designated function: general security, logistics, distribution... nothing overtly suspicious at first glance.
But according to the results of Amuro's covert investigation, this company was in fact the operational hub for the Killer Platform in Asia.
He didn't yet know how much intel the Public Security Bureau or the Red Army had on the building—but this was Amuro's first time infiltrating this close to the heart of their infrastructure. And the deeper he dug, the more horrified he became.
The Company wasn't just handling assassinations.
It was also heavily involved in firearms smuggling, illegal immigration, and trafficking of prohibited materials, operating with disturbing efficiency on an international scale.
While Amuro had shared partial intel with Gin and Rum—as his role demanded—he had also, in secret, transmitted key files back to public security.
There seemed to be growing friction between the two organizations…
Amuro didn't know the exact cause, but frankly, it delighted him. When dogs fight, both walk away bloodied. The only thing he hoped for now was mutual destruction—and for Public Security to pick up the pieces afterward.
But all signs pointed to tonight being his final night undercover.
Gin had already messaged him: the operation would commence that evening.
The catch? Amuro hadn't been told the time, the method, or the exit plan.
If he got caught in the crossfire—or worse—he'd have only his own instincts and luck to blame.
How am I going to get out of this?
Though his false identity gave him the status of a mid-to-senior operative within the Company, leaving the premises without authorization was difficult. Worse still, he couldn't tell whether he'd slipped up in recent days.
If anyone had started to grow suspicious of him, things could unravel very fast.
A red emergency light flooded the corridor from above, and a deafening alarm exploded across the building's intercoms.
Inside nearby offices, panicked programmers abandoned their computers and ducked behind walls. Security guards reached for the firearms at their waists. Amuro's gaze sharpened. He picked up his pace.
"Where the hell is Security?!"
"Get to the armory—now!!"
"First floor! They're coming from the first floor!!"
Unlike the corporate rent-a-cops, elite squads—trained soldiers in everything but name—sprang into action. They sprinted toward the armory, suited up, and deployed with precision toward the chaos.
Gin sat in the cockpit of a black Apache attack helicopter, a cruel smile curling at the edge of his lips as gunfire rattled over the comms.
The feed from the building's hijacked surveillance system showed Tequila and his team storming through the lower levels, executing targets with ruthless efficiency.
Vermouth had already slipped inside. She moved like a phantom, planting charges and eliminating personnel while disguised—exploiting the disarray.
"Forget the data Bourbon reported on the 11th floor," a voice crackled through Gin's earpiece. "Their defenses are stronger than expected. Tequila and the others won't last long enough to breach that high."
"Then we won't bother."
If stealing the data was too costly—then they'd just destroy it.
He started the engine.
With a roar, the black Apache rose into the air, hugging the shadows of the skyline.
Vodka, sitting beside him, yanked the control lever. The fuselage tilted violently as the chopper accelerated toward the Company's headquarters.
As they closed in, Gin bared his teeth in a vicious grin—and pulled the trigger.
TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!!
The M230 chain gun mounted under the helicopter's nose erupted in flames. Shells of high-explosive rounds tore across the front of the building, shattering glass, pulverizing concrete, slicing through steel beams like wet paper.
Vodka adjusted their elevation and angle of attack.
Spent shell casings rained down onto the asphalt like golden hail.
Hayashi Yoshiki was also aboard, seated behind a console filled with open notebooks and monitors. Real-time feeds displayed the assault squads led by Tequila, Ireland, and others.
"Bourbon just reported: one of their top executives is taking the elevator to the 10th floor."
Before he even finished, Vodka turned the helicopter around.
Gunfire lit up the night as chain gun rounds shredded the elevator shaft, slicing through the doors and tearing the unsuspecting executive inside into bloody mist before he could even step out.
A sniper's bullet pinged against the Apache's armored nose. Sparks flew.
Vodka swerved the chopper sharply.
Gin turned toward the direction of the shot and saw a sniper perched high on a nearby building, lining up another round.
TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT-TAT!!!!
A barrage of counter-fire exploded toward the sniper's perch.
After a quick glance at the time, he gave a command:
"Head to the 11th floor."
Vodka angled the Apache again.
Gin reached over to a separate control panel, flipped up a red safety latch, and jammed his thumb down on the launch button.
Missiles ignited beneath the chopper's stubby wings.
Several rockets shrieked through the air, trailing fire.
BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM-BOOM!!!
The entire 11th floor erupted in fire.
Shockwaves blew out the glass on the floors above and below.
Even inside the Apache, Hayashi Yoshiki felt the blast rattle his core.
But Gin wasn't finished.
Vodka adjusted their angle. Gin fired again.
The explosion engulfed the 11th floor, collapsing the level along with several others. Concrete, steel, and fire rained from the sky.
Whatever servers had been on that floor…
They were nothing but ash now.
Gin exhaled slowly, watching the blaze below.
"Don't be stingy with ammo," he said, voice calm and cold."Last five minutes. Prepare for evacuation."