Chapter 66: Hey! Where Did You Get That Grenade?
Gunfire erupted. The sound echoed in Cohen's ears, followed by smoke and heat billowing from his M24 sniper rifle's suppressor.
A bullet pierced the forehead of the investigator on the FBI base's second floor, blood splattering across his tactical binoculars.
Caught completely off guard, without any warning—one moment he was carefully observing his surroundings, the next, death claimed him.
Cohen smiled coldly and re-aimed, his chilling voice coming through the headset.
"One!"
Akai Shuichi reached the second floor and saw his teammate with the bullet wound in his forehead. His face twitched. He turned to see Camel running up the stairs, waving to stop him, then shouted, "Sniper! Take cover!"
The sound of shattering glass echoed from the first floor, followed by screams.
"Damn it, there really was an ambush. We're surrounded."
Akai Shuichi told Camel to go downstairs while he opened the violin case on the floor.
"Two."
Cohen's voice came through Natsukawa's wireless headset. Natsukawa clicked his tongue in grudging admiration.
Having grown accustomed to seeing the Organization's defeats under FBI pursuit in the original story, this was the first time he'd witnessed the Organization's snipers overwhelming the FBI's defenses.
Vodka, standing beside him, smiled while looking up at the FBI's cabin. He could clearly hear the updates in his earpiece and the screams from behind the broken windows. The FBI was finally in their grasp—they couldn't let Akai Shuichi escape tonight.
He gestured to Natsukawa, and under the cover of the wall, they moved to another cabin, forming a triangle with their position and the FBI's stronghold.
With Cohen and Chianti sniping from elevated positions, the FBI agents were now completely trapped.
Akai's Counterattack
However, Vodka's smile didn't last long. A gunshot rang out like a bucket of cold water.
It was the distinctive sound of a sniper rifle.
And it came from the second floor of the FBI cabin.
Akai Shuichi!
Despite wanting to kill him, Vodka's expression tightened upon hearing the shot.
"Are you alright, Cohen?"
Vodka whispered into the earpiece, terrified that shot might have killed Cohen.
"Not bad. I'll change positions. Chianti!"
Cohen's voice was remarkably calm, though his hands trembled. His words couldn't show weakness.
Clutching the graze on his arm, Cohen began shifting positions.
Not bad. Thankfully I reacted quickly, or that shot would have hit my chest.
"Let me handle this."
Chianti, her blood boiling, couldn't wait any longer and turned her rifle from the witness protection cabin toward where Akai Shuichi was positioned.
Whoosh.
The gunshot was masked by the suppressor, the bullet leaving the barrel, flying four hundred meters before striking the first floor from a difficult angle. An FBI agent, careless with his leg protruding from the window, instantly had blood spurt out. His face went pale as he collapsed.
This shot shattered bone, pierced his shin, and pinned him to the ground.
Seeing this, another investigator's expression changed drastically. He quickly pulled his injured teammate away from the window to prevent a follow-up shot.
On the second floor, Akai Shuichi's face darkened. Analyzing the sniper rifle trajectories from both angles, he was now completely certain this was a trap set by the Black Organization, and the initial intelligence had been false.
The small house two hundred meters away was likely also occupied by Organization members.
While thinking, he'd already installed the suppressor on his M200.
In the urgency of the situation, he'd needed to fire a shot to cover his teammates finding cover, so he hadn't used the suppressor initially.
A suppressor was crucial for sniping—it reduced sound and muzzle flash, making it harder for enemy snipers to locate him.
With the suppressor installed, this position was no longer suitable for sniping. He couldn't see the location of the third shot from here. To stop the enemy from continuing to fire, he needed to reach the roof.
The M200 was slung over his shoulder. He quickly opened the west window to climb out when he suddenly noticed something amiss. A figure in the corner of the adjacent cabin made eye contact with him for a split second.
Grenades and Chaos
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Gunfire erupted, bullets striking the window frame.
The shattering glass cut a gash on Akai Shuichi's face, but his reflexes were quick enough that the bullets missed their mark.
There's someone at ground level.
This was something Akai Shuichi hadn't anticipated. What had the scouts been doing?
But the man was dead, his body lying nearby. His anger, though it reached his lips, could only be swallowed.
"Akai Shuichi! Give up!"
Vodka pointed his Beretta M9 at the window, shouting insults. "You're surrounded! You must die here today! Next year on this day, I'll lay white chrysanthemums at your grave!"
"And don't worry about being alone on your journey to hell. Someone will come to keep you company soon. Remember to thank me in your dreams!"
There was no sound from inside the room. Even the initial whimpers and screams had vanished.
Vodka's insults had no effect—Akai Shuichi wasn't taking the bait.
"What's going on? Where is everyone?"
Vodka asked into his headset.
The silence was eerily unsettling, making him uneasy.
Chianti scanned the area through her scope but found nothing.
"They're all hiding. You need to get them back into our sights, or at least flush them out of that house."
"Don't worry, leave it to me."
Natsukawa smiled, pulled open his jacket, and extracted two small grenades from his inner pocket.
Vodka's eyes widened. We're all Organization members, I'm Gin's right hand, and I don't even have grenades? You have these?
Ignoring Vodka's surprise, Natsukawa pulled the pin, held it for a second, then threw it.
With a crash, the west-facing glass on the first floor shattered, and the grenade landed inside. Several investigators' eyes fell on the military-green oval object rolling toward them, its surface marked with clear horizontal and vertical indentations. It rolled several times before finally stopping.
"It's a grenade! Take cover!" Camel's hair stood on end, and he scrambled backward, nimbly diving behind the sofa.
But the others weren't so lucky.
The grenade spent one second in Natsukawa's hand, two seconds in flight, and two more seconds rolling. By the time they saw it, it was too late to react.
With a thunderous bang, the west-facing exterior wall of the first floor collapsed. Billowing smoke and dust turned the falling snowflakes gray. A severed arm fell from above, carrying debris and rubble, landing at Natsukawa's feet.
"Well done, Tequila! I'm starting to like you!"
Chianti admired strength and loved killing. Seeing Tequila's ruthless efficiency, she couldn't help but praise him, feeling he was kindred spirit—someone who killed without hesitation.
Natsukawa shuddered. Don't say things like that. I'm about to have a girlfriend.
"Hey! Where did you get those grenades?"
Vodka felt compelled to ask—he wanted some too.
These things were far more useful than pistols in close combat, eliminating multiple targets at once.
"Bought them from a yakuza organization in Tokyo!"
Natsukawa fabricated casually. In the world of Detective Conan, explosives were surprisingly common—it made perfect sense for him to acquire a couple of grenades.
"Here you go!"
Natsukawa handed another grenade to Vodka, whose eyes burned with fervor.
Frank should have heard that explosion by now, right?
Inside the cabin, Akai Shuichi's expression was grim as he assessed the situation. The Organization had come prepared, and the situation was deteriorating rapidly.
But Akai Shuichi wasn't one to give up easily. His mind raced through tactical options as he gripped his M200 tighter.
This isn't over yet.
(End of Chapter 66)
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