The court where the bombings occurred was unlike any conventional legal institution. It was a private court, a rare and classified venue used for cases deemed too sensitive or dangerous for public exposure. Allegations, testimonies, and statements were submitted directly to the judge. No spectators. No cameras. No recordings. Silence and secrecy were the court's only witnesses.
On the day of Johnson's final hearing, eighteen people were present within the courtroom walls—including the presiding judge, a legal sentencing officer, security guards, legal staff, and Johnson himself.
By the time the dust settled, only four people emerged alive.
---
The Survivors
The first survivor was the judge. Though severely injured, with multiple fractures and internal bleeding, he had survived the blast by ducking behind the bench at the last moment. Consciousness slipped from him instantly, but his heartbeat endured.
The second survivor was the court officer seated beside Johnson, assigned to ensure he didn't attempt escape. Moments before the explosion, the courtroom had filled with tear gas. The officer had grabbed Johnson's arm when he began moving. But in a flash, Johnson had turned and struck him—hard. Whether it was a punch or a kick, the officer wasn't sure. The impact knocked him out cold for just under a minute—a minute that saved his life.
The third survivor was Guard Muyoni, stationed at the opposite entrance of the courtroom. The court had two gates—front and rear. As fate would have it, Muyoni was patrolling the rear perimeter when the explosion happened near the front. He neither saw nor heard Johnson slip through the other exit amid the chaos.
And the fourth survivor was the legal sentencing officer, the one assigned to decide Johnson's punishment. He had been seated behind the judge and escaped with only minor burns and injuries.
---
Inferno Unleashed
A sharp tremor jolted the building. Muyoni froze in place.
"Was that an explosive? Oh shit... I think it was. I need to move—now."
He burst through the eastern entrance. Smoke and fire greeted him.
The courtroom was in ruins. Blood-stained walls. Splintered wood. Flames licking every surface. It was utter chaos.
Covering his face with a folded handkerchief to shield himself from the smoke, Muyoni moved through the blaze. Near the wrecked benches, he saw movement—the officer who had been seated beside Johnson was just beginning to stir.
"Get up!" Muyoni shouted. "You need to get out now!"
The officer groaned, his face bruised, but nodded. Slowly, he crawled toward the exit.
Muyoni pressed on and found the judge—collapsed, bleeding, unconscious. Grunting under the strain, Muyoni lifted him over his shoulder. The sentencing officer, conscious and limping, ran ahead to hold open the rear gate.
Muyoni carried the judge to safety, stumbling over rubble and coughing through the dense smoke. Behind him, fire consumed the courtroom.
All others were dead.
Fourteen lives lost.
---
The Emergency Response
Once outside, Muyoni laid the judge on the pavement and called emergency services.
"This is Guard Muyoni. Private court. Explosion. Fire. Many casualties. We need police, ambulances, fire support—everything."
Within minutes, police sirens echoed in the distance. Law enforcement units flooded the court premises. Paramedics and firefighters arrived seconds later. The survivors were placed on stretchers, rushed to hospitals for urgent treatment. Fire crews doused the burning remains of the court building.
The police wasted no time. Their first interrogation was directed at Guard Muyoni.
"Were you inside when the blast occurred?" an officer asked.
"No," Muyoni replied, still catching his breath. "I was patrolling the rear side. I didn't see it happen. Just heard the blast. When I went in, it was already too late."
Unsatisfied, they turned to the officer who had been beside Johnson.
"You saw everything," the detective said. "Tell us what happened."
The man nodded, trembling.
"He—Johnson—he threw a canister across the floor. Tear gas. Smoke filled the entire room. Everyone was panicking, coughing. And then… he detonated a bomb. I was beside him—that's the only reason I'm alive.
I tried to stop him. I grabbed his hand. He looked at me… and hit me hard. I blacked out. When I came to, the place was burning. He was gone.
But… I managed to take a photo of him right before it all started. You can use it. Spread it around the city. He needs to be on every wanted list."
---
A Killer on the Run
The police then inspected the body of a dead guard near the entrance.
"How did he die?" an officer asked.
Muyoni shook his head.
"I… I don't really know. I wasn't near him. He must have been caught in the main blast."
Now armed with Johnson's photograph, the authorities immediately began broadcasting his image across the city. Television, billboards, radio, and police alerts all bore his face.
A reward of one million yen was promised to anyone who could help locate or report the fugitive.
Police expanded their investigation radius, questioning residents, store owners, and bystanders near the courthouse.
"Have you seen this man?"
Each person shook their head.
"No."
---
Meanwhile...
Far from the blast zone, Johnson had already taken cover in an abandoned building located deep within an industrial district. He was injured—his ribs ached, and his face was bruised—but he was alive.
He waited for 30 minutes, catching his breath, checking his surroundings. No police. No cameras. No drones overhead.
Once the area was quiet, he pulled out a burner phone and booked a taxi under a fake name.
When the car arrived, the driver didn't ask questions. Johnson kept his head down and simply said, "Take me to the nearest hospital."
At the hospital, he received first aid for his wounds. He avoided giving identification by claiming he was homeless and had lost his documents. The staff treated him and discharged him quickly.
From there, Johnson took another taxi—this time to a run-down hotel, where he had been keeping something hidden for weeks.
Inside Room 407, under a loose floorboard, was a black duffel bag filled with firearms, ammunition, and explosives.
He checked the contents quickly. Everything was still there.
He had survived. Barely—but he had survived.
---
An Unexpected Broadcast
Just when the nation was beginning to understand the scale of what had happened, four hours after the bombing, a surprise television broadcast aired across all major Japanese channels.
The screen flickered from regular programming to a black screen. Then a grainy, masked figure appeared—it was Johnson.
His voice was distorted, but unmistakable.
"To the citizens who think justice was served today—you are wrong.
Michelle… was murdered. By this system.
And now… I will bring justice to those who failed her.
Alan… the son of Michelle…
You are gonna die with me and me , you and Michelle will rest in peace
Be ready.
Your existence has consequences.
I'm coming."
The screen then cut to static.
---
Panic and Dread
The nation froze.
Alan's name, publicly mentioned. The threat was clear.
Johnson was no longer just a fugitive—he had declared war. Not just on the system, but on the child of the woman he once loved.
Panic set in. Alan, now in hiding and under mental recovery after the court, would have to face another battle—this time with someone tied to his darkest past.
The police traced the origin of the broadcast. It was sent from a remote uplink bouncing through multiple servers—making its source nearly impossible to locate.
But one thing was certain.
Johnson wasn't finished.
---
Chapter 16 Ends
To Be Continued...