Tokyo: My Superpower Refreshes Every Week

The bodyguards on site instantly focused their attention on the cleaner.

Based on their experience, that cleaning cart was perfect for hiding all sorts of weapons that could threaten the politician's well-being. The blue bucket inside it could easily conceal bombs or bottles of sulfuric acid.

Tokyo wasn't as stable as it used to be. The risks for bodyguards had increased, along with their workload and monthly insurance premiums, yet there was no sign of any salary increase. Even so, those who made their living in this line of work could only silently endure the exploitation from their superiors; their only recourse was to remain vigilant against any potential danger.

The cleaner, his hair completely white, noticed all eyes on him, and nervousness involuntarily flickered across his face.

"Hey, stop right there!" a perimeter bodyguard yelled, quickly gripping the gun under his clothes. He said sternly, "Let me check your cleaning tools."

The cleaner stopped, stunned. "Huh?! I'm just sweeping the floor."

"Hands on your head! No arguing! Follow my commands!"

Hearing the shout, the cleaner immediately let go of the cleaning cart and raised his hands.

The bodyguards, who had been on edge, relaxed slightly.

This was the moment Durant had been waiting for.

He had already gathered information on Okamura Togihiko. He knew the man was scheduled to arrive at Asahi TV Station at 9:30 that morning to present his views on the recent situation and promote a "threat theory" concerning a certain major power.

Durant had been mulling over how to kill Okamura Togihiko, bypassing the layers of security. After his calculations, a frontal assault was clearly out of the question. Okamura Togihiko was accompanied by fourteen well-trained bodyguards, all armed.

He needed to use his wits. So, he had tracked the security guard responsible for the parking lot surveillance to his home, kidnapped the guard's child, and forced him to provide cover from the surveillance room.

He lay in wait in the parking lot. These VIPs usually shared a common flaw: they liked to be distinctive. This meant Okamura Togihiko's parking spot was predictable. Okamura Togihiko often traveled in a convoy of four cars, so the parking lot had to reserve four adjacent spots for him. Durant only needed to hide under a car adjacent to those spots.

He waited for the cleaner to pass by, which would attract the bodyguards' attention. Once they had investigated and cleared the cleaner, a moment of laxity was inevitable.

Durant was waiting for this precise moment. He let go, swiftly and silently dropping to the pavement beneath the car.

Identifying Okamura Togihiko by his shoes, Durant quickly leaned out and squeezed the trigger of his submachine gun.

RAT-TAT-TAT! The submachine gun sang out. As the sound reached the bodyguards' ears, multiple sprays of blood erupted from Okamura Togihiko's body.

"Protect the Representative!"

The reacting bodyguards shouted, shoved Okamura Togihiko back into the car, and fumbled for their guns.

Durant's sweeping fire cut down four bodyguards. One managed to return fire, a bullet grazing Durant's cheek.

The outer ring of bodyguards also reacted, drawing their weapons and opening fire.

In an instant, the parking lot erupted with gunfire.

Lethal bullets whizzed through the air amid the CRACKS and BANGS of gunfire. The cleaner, terrified by the unfolding scene, dropped to the ground, hands clasped over his head.

If I get out of this alive, I'm definitely quitting. he decided.

Durant's slick clothing allowed for a quick retreat after the successful hit. His ammo was limited. Dio had only provided a full magazine, no extras. Besides, he had successfully hit Okamura Togihiko; there was no need to linger and eliminate the remaining bodyguards. Simply hitting Okamura Togihiko would be newsworthy.

Using cars for cover, he exchanged fire with the bodyguards as he sprinted towards the pre-planned A3 exit. His means of escape were there.

「...」

The loud gunshots attracted the attention of the security guards outside the parking lot. Of course, the guards weren't about to go in to see if someone was just setting off firecrackers. Instead, they grabbed their walkie-talkies to ask their colleagues in the surveillance room what was happening.

Katerina, who had been about to reveal her identity, slammed on the accelerator, crashed through the barrier, and sped straight in.

"Hey!" the security guard yelled, not daring to stop her. He spoke into his walkie-talkie again, "What's going on in there?"

Katerina had already driven into the underground parking lot.

The parking lot was vast. Twenty meters away, bodyguards and Durant were locked in a fierce, relentless gunfight.

"What should we do?"

"Of course. Take him out," Emily said. She didn't know who was fighting the men in black. She only knew that if they dealt with the assassin, Okamura Togihiko might talk, and she could get the information she wanted.

"No problem." Morimoto Chiyoda drew her M500. She aimed at the gray-clothed man taking cover behind a car—not at him directly, but predicting his retreat path—then squeezed the trigger.

BANG!

A single shot boomed out, its roar drowning out the chatter of pistols and submachine guns, echoing across the parking lot. The Honda in front of Durant suddenly had a chunk blown out of it.

As he wondered where the missing piece had gone, a tidal wave of pain crashed through his mind.

He looked down. His left arm, severed by the bullet, was dropping to the ground, blood gushing. Shards from the obliterated car hood had pierced his chest like daggers.

Mission failed.

The two words flashed through Durant's mind as he collapsed.

The bodyguards were stunned. Are firearms this powerful even allowed in Tokyo now?

"We're from the Metropolitan Police Department!" Okayama Buji leaned halfway out the car window, flashing his badge. "Is Representative Okamura alright?"

A bodyguard immediately replied, "Representative Okamura's been shot! We need an ambulance right away!"

"Alright, you make the call. I'll administer first aid." Ito Otome quickly leaned out the window; her white lab coat left no doubt as to her profession.

Their timing, however, was too coincidental. So coincidental, in fact, that the bodyguards present began to wonder if these newcomers were in cahoots with Durant. Could they be working with Durant?

"Are you really police?"

"This is my ID!" Okayama Buji tossed his credentials and police badge over.

A bodyguard caught them, examined them, then nodded. "He's from the Metropolitan Police Department."

The van stopped in the lane. Ito Otome quickly disembarked and approached the severely injured Okamura Togihiko. His face was ashen, and he was bleeding profusely.

"Quick, save me! I can't die yet!"

"Don't worry," Ito Otome replied, then shouted, "Everyone, back off! Give the injured man some room to breathe! I'm going to stop the bleeding!"

The bodyguards, knowing little about medical treatment, quickly backed away.

Ito Otome opened her medical kit. "I need you to tell me where Mohammed is."

"I don't know what you're talking about! Hurry up and stop the bleeding!"

"That makes things difficult," Ito Otome said slowly. "When I have unresolved questions on my mind, I find it hard to concentrate on treatment."

Okamura Togihiko knew she was threatening him. The Swastika Society is just a loose-knit group. When I'm okay, I can protect the members. But if something happens to me... we're all just strangers with no real loyalty to each other.

"Kasai... I only know Mohammed is hiding in Kasai, staying with some fellow believers from India. I don't know the exact location."

"I see. In that case, I can tell you truthfully: your injuries are fatal. You're going to die." Ito Otome was very familiar with the signs of approaching death. One look told her the bullets had damaged vital organs; he'd be dead within three minutes.

"No! You have to save me!" Okamura Togihiko tried to lift his hand, but even such a simple movement was now immensely difficult. His voice was barely a whisper.

He felt his life force ebbing from his wounds.

Death.

As Okamura Togihiko confronted this reality, panic seized his heart, yet he couldn't resist the crushing wave of drowsiness.

"No..." He reached out, grasping Ito Otome's wrist, but could draw no warmth from her. "I can't die... I can't..."

He mumbled, his voice fading. The warmth in his own hand vanished, his pupils dilating.

"No one escapes death. Except Dio," Ito Otome replied. She stepped out of the car and shook her head at the bodyguards. "He's gone."

The bodyguards scrambled to make calls.

The Representative was dead. Six bodyguards had also been shot and killed.

There were no light injuries at the scene. Once men started dying, everyone began firing indiscriminately in the direction of the gunshots, not aiming, just trying to maximize their own chances of survival.

Forget accuracy. The main concern now is how insurance will cover the damaged cars and the scene itself.

Ito Otome approached Emily. "Mohammed is hiding in Kasai, at the home of a fellow believer. Okamura Togihiko didn't know the exact location."

"It's likely in the Indian community there," Emily said. "We can have Jack monitor Kasai under the pretext that Dio might be hiding there. Let's go immediately."

Emily hadn't expected things to proceed so smoothly. She decided they should head straight to Edo River Kasai to deal with Mohammed.

「...」

「Shinjuku, Central Building.」

Jack soon received a report about the shooting incident in the Asahi TV Station's underground parking garage.

The deaths of six bodyguards, Representative Okamura Togihiko included, didn't faze him. What caught his eye was the report of Durant's death.

A flicker of astonishment crossed his face. Durant? The CIA mole planted near Dio? Killed before he provided any intel? This has to be the task force's doing. Submitting this report to John will raise questions from the Director. Why would the task force target Representative Okamura when he was perfectly fine? If John finds out I authorized the task force to go after Mohammed without approval, things will get ugly.

Jack broke into a cold sweat. Deceiving a superior was one thing; being caught was another entirely.

He quickly dialed Emily.

"We're about to reach Kasai," Emily said confidently. "If the intel is correct, we'll catch Mohammed."

Jack sighed in relief, then gave a wry smile. "The problem now isn't Mohammed, it's Durant's death. He was a CIA mole near Dio. You guys killed him. How am I supposed to explain this to the Director?"

Surprise flashed across Emily's face. The CIA had a mole near Dio?!

She didn't press for details, instead quickly grasping Jack's predicament. "That's not a problem. Just report it to the Director the way I tell you."

Emily quickly gave him her idea, then glanced out the window. An annoying drizzle had begun to fall, washing the dust from a nearby curry shop sign.