The mysterious figure, clad in black, gloved, and masked, exuded an oppressive aura over the group of punks.
Armed with a bat, he seemed ready for trouble—someone they couldn't afford to cross.
Some looked skyward, others sipped their drinks or turned away, lips sealed, avoiding the towering figure's approach.
"Hmph!"
Tsuneo sneered as he passed, then struck, his baseball bat a blur.
Thud!
Thud!
Thud!
Six people, not one spared—including the two women giggling at their vile stories.
If I don't cripple you today, this outfit's for nothing.
In an instant, Go Maehara watched his friends' heads burst with blood, collapsing. Sobered by fear, he stumbled back, aiming for his car.
He had a switchblade but lacked the guts to face this black-clad desperado.
High-pitched screams from the women drew a crowd, even pulling people from the bar to gawk.
Tsuneo didn't care, swinging his bat relentlessly.
No cameras here, phones still basic bricks without cameras, and dressed like this—no need for words, just action.
Headshots first, then break their legs. Wheelchairs for life.
Two and a half minutes later, Tsuneo crouched, wiping blood from the bat with their clothes, then vanished into the dark.
Only then did the crowd dare approach.
"Their legs are completely shattered, right?" someone gasped, eyeing the twisted limbs.
"Shattered? They'll never stand again."
"Such pretty girls, what a shame."
"Who'd they cross to deserve this?"
Ten minutes later, police and ambulances arrived, rushing the six victims away.
The police questioned the crowd but learned little beyond "a man in black with a bat." No words spoken, no age discerned.
No stolen belongings, ruling out a robbery gone wrong.
They'd have to trace the victims' enemies—a grueling task they didn't yet know would exhaust them.
…
Two days later.
Tsuneo, car keys in hand, gleefully ruffled Conan's hair.
"Shinichi, you're the best!"
He'd planned to scam a cheap used car, but Conan shelled out millions for a Ford.
Vague words pay off!
"Now spill—about the Organization," Conan said, rolling his eyes after the hair-ruffling.
"Right, let me think," Tsuneo said, tilting his head.
Reveal an undercover agent? Nah, they work too hard to hide.
Oh, right!
He rummaged through his tool bag, pulling out a sleek car emblem and handing it to Conan.
"Porsche?" Conan frowned, puzzled.
"Porsche 356A. The car of that guy you described," Tsuneo said, briefly mentioning his encounter with Gin and Vodka.
"Idiot! You knew it was dangerous and still stole this?!" Conan's anger flared, furious at the risk.
"Ahem," Dr. Agasa coughed, patting Conan's shoulder to calm him.
"I must warn you, this is a massive transnational crime syndicate. If you pursue them, be ready to sacrifice everything," Tsuneo said, his tone grave.
With the story's end unclear and himself as a wildcard, who knew what lay ahead?
Conan fell silent, then asked, "What else do you know?"
"Be careful, Great Detective," Tsuneo said with a smile, glancing at the TV.
It was reporting the brutal assault from two days ago.
All six victims were severely injured, likely wheelchair-bound for life, as onlookers had predicted.
The suspect's sketch showed a black-clad figure with a bat—pretty cool, Tsuneo thought, pleased.
Much was unreported, like the police's growing headache.
The six had countless enemies—hundreds of named grudges.
The two women's deeds were especially vile, shattering worldviews.
Their main victims were minors or college students, like Masato, many driven to end their lives.
Even seasoned detectives, used to human depravity, quietly applauded the justice while sifting through mountains of files.
"Man in black?" Conan muttered, lost in thought, reflexively linking black clothing to Gin.
Ring ring
Tsuneo answered his phone.
"Hey, Ran."
"No problem, I'm on my way."
After a brief chat, he hung up and met Conan's gaze.
"What's up?" the little detective asked, overthinking again.
"What could an honest repairman like me be up to?" Tsuneo sighed, borrowing Dr. Agasa's welder and loading it onto his pickup.
A car sure was handy.
"Want a ride?"
Tsuneo glanced at the small figure in the passenger seat.
"It's my car—can't I ride?!" Conan huffed.
He was heading to the Mouri Detective Agency anyway.
"Alright, alright," Tsuneo said, buckling his friend in before turning the key.
Vroom!
The shiny red pickup roared to life, charging out like a beast unleashed.
(End of Chapter)
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