PART 1: IKEBUKURO EAST STATION – THE FIGHT CONTINUES
Heguro moved first.
Fast for someone his size.
Closing distance in three steps.
Threw a massive haymaker aimed at Marcus's head.
Marcus ducked under it.
Countered with three rapid strikes.
His right fist drove into Heguro's ribs—pressure point. His left followed immediately to the liver—another pressure point. Then his knee came up, slamming into Heguro's kidney—third pressure point.
All in less than two seconds.
Precise. Devastating. Perfect technique.
Heguro grunted.
Stumbled back one step.
But didn't fall.
Tough, Marcus thought. Very tough.
Most people would be on the ground. Unconscious. Or at least incapacitated.
But Heguro was still standing. Still smiling through the pain.
"Not bad," Heguro said, rolling his shoulders like he'd just been lightly tapped. "But not enough."
He moved forward again.
Faster this time.
His massive hands shot out, grabbed Marcus by the shoulders.
Lifted him.
Clean off the ground like Marcus weighed nothing.
Then THREW him.
Marcus sailed through the air—six feet, eight feet, ten feet—crashed into a desk, wood splintering on impact.
He rolled with the momentum, came up in a defensive stance.
Breathing hard but controlled.
Okay. Definitely strong.
This was going to be a problem.
They circled each other.
Both assessing. Both calculating.
Heguro threw a straight punch from his right hand—telegraphed, powerful, meant to overwhelm.
Marcus sidestepped, countered with a hook from his left hand aimed at Heguro's temple.
Heguro blocked with his forearm—THUD—the impact echoed through the empty station.
Marcus followed with a low kick from his right leg, targeting Heguro's knee.
Heguro shifted his weight, absorbed the impact, countered with a sweeping kick from his left leg aimed at Marcus's head.
Marcus ducked under it, came up with an uppercut from his right fist.
Connected with Heguro's jaw.
CRACK.
Heguro's head snapped back.
But he didn't fall.
Just smiled wider.
"You hit HARD for someone your size."
"And you take hits well for someone who should be unconscious."
They engaged again.
Faster now.
More aggressive.
Marcus threw a combination—jab from his left hand, cross from his right hand, hook from his left hand, uppercut from his right hand.
All aimed at Heguro's head and torso.
Heguro blocked the first two, absorbed the third with his shoulder, caught the fourth with his palm.
Then he grabbed Marcus's wrist.
Pulled him forward.
Off balance.
Transitioned into a grappling position.
Oh no—
Heguro's arms wrapped around Marcus's torso.
Bear hug. Full strength.
Marcus felt his ribs compress.
He's trying to crush me.
Marcus drove his elbow down into Heguro's shoulder—pressure point strike.
Heguro grunted but didn't release.
Marcus switched tactics.
Dropped his weight suddenly, slipped down and out of Heguro's grip.
Rolled backward.
Came up five feet away.
Breathing harder now.
He's strong. Really strong. Stronger than anyone I've fought in years.
"You're good," Heguro said, cracking his neck. "Better than I expected. But you're holding back."
"So are you," Marcus said.
Heguro grinned. "Yeah. I am."
"Why?"
"Because I'm on a schedule. And killing you would take too long."
"You think you CAN kill me?"
"I know I can. Question is whether I have time." Heguro glanced at his watch. "And I don't. So—"
He moved.
FAST.
Faster than before.
Crossed the distance between them in a blur.
Marcus barely had time to raise his guard before Heguro's fist crashed into his forearms.
The impact sent him sliding backward three feet.
What—
Heguro pressed forward.
Combination attack—right fist aimed at Marcus's head, left fist aimed at his ribs, right knee aimed at his solar plexus.
Marcus blocked the first, deflected the second, caught the third on his hip.
But the force behind each strike was massive.
Like getting hit by a sledgehammer.
He wasn't using his full strength before.
Now he is.
And I'm in trouble.
Marcus switched to pure defense.
Blocking. Deflecting. Evading.
Waiting for an opening.
Heguro threw a haymaker from his right hand.
Marcus ducked under it, drove his knee into Heguro's thigh—pressure point.
Heguro's leg buckled slightly.
Marcus capitalized.
Swept Heguro's supporting leg with his left foot.
Heguro fell.
Hit the ground hard.
Marcus moved immediately.
Transitioned to a joint lock.
Got Heguro's arm extended.
Applied pressure to the elbow.
"Tap out or I break it," Marcus said, breathing hard.
Heguro laughed.
Actually laughed.
"You're good. Really good. But—"
He flexed.
His muscles bulged.
The joint lock—which should have been unbreakable—started to give.
No. Impossible. Nobody's strong enough to—
Heguro broke free.
Not through technique.
Through pure, raw STRENGTH.
He rolled, stood, and in one smooth motion, grabbed Marcus by the collar.
Lifted him.
Threw him again.
Marcus crashed through a filing cabinet, metal bending, papers exploding everywhere.
He hit the wall.
Hard.
Slumped down.
Vision swimming.
Okay. That hurt.
Heguro walked over.
Loomed above him.
"Like I said. You're good. But I don't have time for this."
He turned toward the exit.
"Wait—" Marcus gasped, trying to stand.
"We'll finish this another time," Heguro said without looking back. "When I'm not on a deadline. When I can really enjoy it."
He walked out.
Fast.
Gone.
Marcus pushed himself to his feet.
Stumbled.
Caught himself on a desk.
He escaped.
Just... walked away.
And I couldn't stop him.
Marcus pulled out his phone.
Called Silas.
"Katsuragi."
"Target escaped," Marcus said, voice tight. "Male suspect. Massive build. Incredible strength. Goes by Heguro. He's gone. I couldn't hold him."
"Copy. Are you injured?"
"Bruised. Pride mostly. I'll live."
"Regroup at headquarters. We have bigger problems."
"What problems?"
"I'll brief you when you arrive. Move fast."
The call ended.
Marcus looked around the destroyed police station.
Bodies. Broken furniture. Evidence of a fight that had been far closer than he'd like to admit.
Heguro.
Next time, I'll be ready.
Next time, I'll finish it.
He limped toward the exit.
PART 2: SHIBUYA CENTRAL STATION – ROOFTOP
Silas, Ren, and Akari stood in the records room.
Files scattered everywhere. Evidence bags. Boxes of documents.
"They took case files," Silas said, examining the empty spaces in the filing cabinets. "Unsolved murders. Rape cases. Corruption investigations. Anything that proves the system failed."
"Why?" Ren asked.
"Recruitment material. Proof to show potential members that the system is broken. That joining them is justified." Silas pulled out his phone. "They're not just killing. They're building a narrative. A movement."
"Where did they go?" Akari asked.
Silas walked to the window.
Looked out at the street below.
"Rooftop. They went up, not down. Classic evasion tactic. Get to high ground. Survey escape routes. Then disappear."
"Can we track them?"
"Maybe." Silas turned. "Follow me. Fast. We don't have much time."
They ran.
Through the hallway. Up the stairs. Higher. Higher.
To the rooftop access door.
Silas kicked it open.
The rooftop was wide. Flat. Empty except for air conditioning units and ventilation shafts.
And at the far edge, near the roof's corner—
Two figures.
Daidan and Nanika.
Standing calmly. Like they'd been waiting.
"Silas!" Daidan called out cheerfully. "You're faster than I expected! And you brought the children again!"
"Stop calling us children," Ren muttered.
Silas's hand moved to his belt.
Pulled out a pen.
Ordinary looking. Black. Metal.
He held it between his fingers.
"Last chance," Silas said. "Surrender. Come peacefully. We'll ensure you get a fair trial."
Daidan laughed. "A fair trial? In a corrupt system? That's adorable."
"Then we do this the hard way."
Silas threw the pen.
FAST.
Not like a normal throw.
Like a projectile.
The pen shot through the air with incredible speed and force.
Aimed directly at Daidan's throat.
Daidan's hand moved.
Blur.
He caught the pen.
Between two fingers.
Perfectly.
The force of the throw—the sheer kinetic energy—pushed both Daidan and Nanika backward.
Their hair whipped back from the impact.
The air displaced around them.
But Daidan held the pen.
Smiled.
"Nice throw. Very nice. If I'd been a normal person, that would've killed me."
He looked at the pen.
Examined it.
Then threw it.
HARDER.
The pen shot away from him like a bullet.
Flew across the rooftop.
Hit the concrete wall of the ventilation shaft.
PENETRATED.
The pen drove six inches into solid concrete.
Buried completely.
Only the cap visible.
Silas stared.
He threw it harder than I did.
With casual effort.
What IS he?
"That's impressive," Daidan said, brushing off his hands. "But we really do need to go. Busy schedule. People to recruit. Systems to dismantle. You understand."
Silas took a step forward.
Daidan raised his hand.
"Ah ah ah. I wouldn't. Not with the children here. If we fight seriously—and I mean seriously—they'll get hurt. Possibly killed. You don't want that on your conscience, do you?"
Silas stopped.
Looked at Ren and Akari.
They were capable. Trained. But Daidan was operating on a completely different level.
He's right.
If we fight here, they could die.
I can't risk that.
"Smart man," Daidan said. "We'll see you again soon, Silas. Very soon. Oh, and—" He pulled something from his pocket. Small. Metallic. "—thanks for the tracker."
He held up a tiny electronic chip.
The one Silas had planted on him.
What—
When did he—
How did he—
Daidan crushed it between his fingers.
"I felt it the moment you attached it. Good attempt though. Very subtle." He tossed the broken pieces away. "Better luck next time."
Nanika spoke quietly. "Daidan. We need to move."
"Right. Schedule." Daidan smiled at Silas one more time. "Goodbye, Silas. Tell Kaiser we'll be visiting him soon. And give our regards to the Defense Minister."
He and Nanika ran.
To the edge of the roof.
Jumped.
Landed on the next building.
Kept running.
Disappeared.
Silas pulled out his phone immediately.
"Kaiser. They escaped. But I planted a secondary tracker. Hidden frequency. They won't detect it."
Kaiser's voice came through. "Copy. I'm tracking now. They're heading... northeast. Toward Shinjuku. Multiple heat signatures. Looks like they're meeting up with others."
"How many?"
"Uncertain. At least thirty. Maybe more."
"Thirty people working with Daidan?" Silas's jaw tightened. "This is worse than we thought."
"Agreed. Stay on them. Report any changes."
"Copy."
The call ended.
Silas looked at Ren and Akari.
"We're following them. But from a distance. No direct engagement. Understood?"
"Yes, sir."
PART 3: THE CHASE
They moved across rooftops.
Fast.
Professional.
Silas led. Ren and Akari followed.
Jumping gaps. Climbing fire escapes. Staying out of sight.
The tracker showed Daidan's position moving through Shinjuku.
Straight line. No evasion tactics. Like he wasn't even trying to hide.
Too confident, Silas thought. Or he wants us to follow.
Probably both.
They followed for ten minutes.
Fifteen.
Then—
Akari stopped suddenly.
Hand on her stomach.
"What's wrong?" Ren asked.
"I... I don't know. I feel—" She swayed slightly. "—hungry. Really hungry. Like I haven't eaten in days."
Silas looked back. "We don't have time for this. You ate lunch two hours ago."
"I know. But I'm—" Akari's face went pale. "—something's wrong. This isn't normal hunger. This is—"
Her stomach growled.
Loudly.
Audibly across the rooftop.
"Can you keep moving?" Silas asked.
"I... I think so. But I need to eat. Soon. Or I'm going to—"
"You'll manage. Come on. We can't lose them."
They continued.
But Akari was slowing down.
Her movements less precise. Less controlled.
The hunger was affecting her.
What's happening to me? she thought. This isn't normal. I've gone longer without food before. Why is this so intense?
Twenty minutes into the chase.
They reached an abandoned warehouse district.
The tracker showed Daidan's position inside a large warehouse.
Stationary.
Not moving.
"He's stopped," Silas said. "Meeting point. This is where they're gathering."
"How many?" Ren asked.
Silas checked his equipment. "Thermal imaging shows... thirty-four heat signatures. All human-sized. All inside the warehouse."
"Thirty-four people working with Daidan?"
"At least. Possibly more outside our scan range." Silas lowered his equipment. "We need eyes inside. But carefully. If they detect us—"
Suddenly, the tracker signal vanished.
Completely.
Gone.
"What—" Silas checked his equipment. "Signal lost. Tracker's offline."
"How?"
"He found it. Destroyed it. Or disabled it somehow." Silas cursed quietly. "We're blind."
"What do we do?" Akari asked, still holding her stomach.
"We regroup. Report to Kaiser. Get backup before—"
His phone rang.
Kaiser.
"Katsuragi. We have a situation."
"What situation?"
"Check the news. Now."
Silas pulled up a news feed on his phone.
BREAKING: Police Corruption Scandal Exposed – Anonymous Source Releases Thousands of Documents
His blood ran cold.
"They released the files. Everything they stole from the police stations. They put it all online."
"Every corruption case. Every covered-up crime. Every piece of evidence the system buried." Kaiser's voice was grim. "It's everywhere. Social media. News sites. Government servers. Everywhere. They're forcing the truth into the open."
"Public opinion will—"
"—shift in their favor. Exactly. People will see the corruption. The failures. And Daidan's movement will grow." Kaiser paused. "Get back to headquarters. Immediately. We need to strategize."
"Copy."
The call ended.
PART 4: INSIDE THE WAREHOUSE – DAIDAN'S SPEECH
Inside the warehouse, thirty-four people stood in a loose circle.
Men. Women. Different ages. Different backgrounds.
All with one thing in common: they'd been failed by the system.
Daidan stood in the center, addressing them.
"Thank you all for coming. I know this wasn't easy. I know you've risked a lot to be here."
He looked around at each face.
"You've all suffered. All of you. Some of you lost loved ones to criminals the system protected. Some of you were victims yourselves. Some of you watched as justice was denied, again and again, while the powerful walked free."
Heads nodded.
"Today, we took action. We exposed the truth. We showed the world what we've known all along—that the system is corrupt. That it protects predators. That it fails the innocent."
He smiled.
"And now? Now people are listening. The files we released are being read by millions. The evidence is spreading. The truth is coming out. And the system—" He gestured dramatically. "—the system is scrambling. Desperate. Trying to control the narrative. Trying to silence us."
"But they can't," Nanika said, stepping forward. "Because we're not alone anymore. We're not hiding. We're not afraid. We're ACTING. And we're winning."
Cheers from the crowd.
"Our next operation is the biggest yet," Daidan continued. "We're going after someone important. Someone powerful. Someone who embodies everything wrong with this country."
He pulled out a photograph.
Showed it to the group.
Gasps.
"That's—"
"—impossible—"
"—you can't be serious—"
"I'm completely serious," Daidan said. "This person has enabled corruption at the highest levels. Protected criminals. Covered up atrocities. And faced zero consequences. Until now."
He put away the photograph.
"Thirty-four of you. My best people. We're moving tonight. In—" He checked his watch. "—one hour. Prepare yourselves. Mentally. Physically. This is going to be dangerous. Some of us might not survive. But those who do—those who succeed—will change history."
He looked at each person.
"Let's go, gentlemen. And ladies. Let's fix this broken world."
The crowd dispersed.
Preparing. Arming. Steeling themselves for what was coming.
Daidan stood alone for a moment.
Smiling.
Just smiling.
Nanika approached. "Are you sure about this? Targeting someone this high-profile?"
"Positive. This is exactly what we need. A demonstration that nobody is above justice. Not police. Not politicians. Not even—" He smiled wider. "—government ministers."
"It's a declaration of war."
"I know. And I'm ready for it. Are you?"
Nanika nodded. "Always."
PART 5: KUROKAMI HEADQUARTERS – ONE HOUR LATER
FULL ALARM.
Every light in the facility flashing red.
Every operative scrambling.
Phones ringing. Radios crackling. Chaos.
Commander Saito stood in the operations center, coordinating responses.
"All units respond! Emergency level one! This is NOT a drill!"
Kaiser burst through the door.
His expression—usually calm, controlled—was panicked.
Actually panicked.
"Status!" he demanded.
"Attack in progress. Defense Minister's residence. Multiple hostiles. Heavy casualties." Saito pulled up live feeds. "We're getting reports of—"
He stopped.
Stared at the screen.
"—sixteen security personnel down. All dead. Response teams en route but—"
"Where's the Minister?" Kaiser interrupted.
"Inside. Barricaded. Armed. But—"
"I'm going. NOW." Kaiser was already moving.
"Kaiser, wait—"
"SEND EVERYONE! Marcus! Silas! Ren! Akari! EVERYONE! We need maximum response!"
He ran.
Faster than anyone had ever seen him move.
Out of headquarters. Into a vehicle. Speeding through Tokyo streets.
Please let me be in time.
Please.
His phone rang.
Silas.
"Kaiser. We're en route. ETA five minutes."
"Make it three."
"Copy."
Another call. Marcus.
"Kaiser. I'm injured but functional. Two minutes out."
"Move faster."
He hung up.
Pressed the accelerator to the floor.
The vehicle's speedometer climbed.
120 km/h. 140 km/h. 160 km/h.
Through red lights. Through intersections. Through traffic.
Faster.
Not fast enough.
PART 6: DEFENSE MINISTER'S RESIDENCE – THE CONFRONTATION
The residence was chaos.
Bodies everywhere.
Sixteen security personnel. All elite. All trained.
All dead.
Some shot. Some beaten to death. Some with broken necks.
And inside the main study—
Defense Minister Nakamura stood behind his desk.
Suit jacket removed. Sleeves rolled up. Gun in hand.
Breathing hard but steady.
Facing the door.
It opened.
Daidan walked in.
Alone.
Smiling.
"Minister Nakamura. It's an honor."
Nakamura raised his gun. "Don't move. I will shoot."
"I know you will. You're a soldier. A leader. A man who's made hard decisions." Daidan walked closer. "But shooting me won't solve your problems."
"It'll solve one."
BANG.
Nakamura fired.
Center mass. Perfect shot.
The bullet hit Daidan's chest.
He stumbled back.
One step.
Then straightened.
Looked down at the bullet hole in his shirt.
Smiled.
"Good shot. But you'll need more than that."
What—
Nakamura fired again.
BANG. BANG. BANG.
Three more shots. All center mass.
Daidan stumbled with each impact.
But didn't fall.
"Body armor?" Nakamura asked.
"Something like that." Daidan reached into his shirt, pulled out the flattened bullets. "You're right to fight. I respect that. But this isn't about you personally. This is about what you represent."
"And what do I represent?"
"A broken system. A corrupt government. An institution that protects criminals and punishes victims." Daidan stepped forward. "You're a good man, Minister. I've researched you. You've done good work. Saved lives. Protected the country. But you're also part of the problem. You enable the system. You enforce its rules. You protect its interests."
"That's my JOB—"
"And my job is to fix what's broken. Even if it means tearing down good men who serve bad systems."
Nakamura dropped the gun.
Reached into his desk drawer.
Pulled out a combat knife.
"Then come on. Let's see if you can back up your philosophy."
Daidan's smile faded.
Replaced by genuine respect.
"You're going to fight? Hand to hand? At your age?"
"I'm sixty-two years old. Former Special Forces. Twenty years active combat. I've fought in wars you've only read about." Nakamura moved around the desk, knife ready. "I'm not going down easy."
"I wouldn't want you to."
PART 7: THE MINISTER'S STAND
They engaged.
Nakamura moved first.
Fast for his age. Skilled. Experienced.
Slashed with the knife—precise, controlled, aimed at Daidan's throat.
Daidan leaned back, the blade missing by inches.
Nakamura followed with a kick aimed at Daidan's knee.
Daidan shifted, absorbed the impact on his shin.
Countered with a straight punch from his right hand aimed at Nakamura's face.
Nakamura blocked with his forearm, redirected, slashed again with the knife.
The blade caught Daidan's shoulder.
Drew blood.
First blood.
Daidan looked at the cut.
Impressed.
"You're better than I expected."
"I'm a lot of things people don't expect."
They circled each other.
Nakamura attacked again.
Combination—slash from the knife, punch from his free hand, knee strike aimed at Daidan's ribs.
Daidan blocked the knife with his forearm, caught the punch with his palm, deflected the knee with his hip.
But Nakamura was relentless.
He pressed forward. Aggressive. Controlled violence.
Slash. Punch. Kick. Slash. Punch. Kick.
A rhythm. A pattern. Decades of training compressed into pure combat efficiency.
Daidan defended. Blocked. Evaded.
For three full minutes, Nakamura held his own.
Actually pushed Daidan back.
Made him work for it.
He's good, Daidan thought. Really good. If he were thirty years younger, this would be a problem.
But he's not.
And time is the only opponent nobody beats.
Nakamura was breathing hard now.
His movements slower. Less precise.
Age and exhaustion catching up.
Daidan saw it.
Capitalized.
He moved faster. Harder.
Stopped defending. Started attacking.
Punch from his left hand—Nakamura blocked but the force pushed him back.
Punch from his right hand—connected with Nakamura's ribs.
Kick from his left leg—hit Nakamura's thigh.
Nakamura stumbled.
Recovered.
Slashed desperately with the knife.
Daidan caught his wrist.
Twisted.
SNAP.
The knife clattered to the floor.
Nakamura's wrist—broken.
He gasped in pain but didn't cry out.
Just grabbed Daidan's collar with his other hand.
Pulled him close.
Headbutted him.
CRACK.
Daidan's nose broke.
Blood streamed down his face.
He blinked, surprised.
Then laughed.
"You STILL won't quit? I respect that. I truly do."
"I don't quit. Ever." Nakamura threw a punch with his unbroken hand.
Daidan caught it.
"I know. That's why this is necessary."
He started fighting seriously.
PART 8: THE DOMINATION
What happened next wasn't a fight.
It was a demonstration.
Daidan moved with speed and precision that hadn't been there before.
He'd been holding back.
Not anymore.
Punch from his right hand—hit Nakamura's jaw. Head snapped back.
Punch from his left hand—drove into Nakamura's solar plexus. Air expelled.
Kick from his right leg—connected with Nakamura's ribs. CRACK. Bones broke.
Nakamura tried to defend. Tried to counter.
But Daidan was faster. Stronger. Better.
Punch. Kick. Elbow. Knee.
A systematic breakdown of Nakamura's defenses.
Breaking ribs. Bruising organs. Destroying the older man's ability to fight.
But Nakamura stayed standing.
Bleeding. Broken. Barely conscious.
But standing.
"Just... fall down..." Daidan said, almost pleading. "You've proven your point. You fought well. Better than anyone I've faced. But this is over. Fall down. Let me finish this quickly. Painlessly."
"No."
Nakamura spat blood.
Raised his fists again with his one working hand.
"I said... I don't quit."
Daidan stared at him.
Genuine admiration in his eyes.
"You're extraordinary. Truly. A dying breed of honor and courage in a dishonorable world."
He took a breath.
"I'm sorry it has to end like this."
His hands began to glow.
Faintly.
A soft, barely visible light emanating from his palms.
Daidan stepped forward.
Wound up.
And punched.
One final strike.
Straight to Nakamura's chest.
The impact sounded like thunder.
Nakamura's eyes went wide.
The force of the blow—enhanced by whatever that glowing energy was—transferred through his chest.
Stopped his heart.
Collapsed his lungs.
Shattered his sternum.
All in one instant.
He dropped.
Hit the floor.
Didn't move.
Daidan stood over him.
Breathing hard.
Blood from his broken nose dripping onto the floor.
"You were a good man, Minister. Better than most. But you were part of a bad system. And I had to remove you to fix it."
He knelt down.
Checked for a pulse.
None.
"I hope you understand. Wherever you are now. This wasn't personal. This was necessary."
He stood.
Looked around the destroyed office.
At the broken furniture. The scattered papers. The body of a man who'd served his country for forty years.
And smiled.
Just a little.
"Phase one complete."
PART 9: KAISER'S ARRIVAL
Kaiser's vehicle screeched to a halt outside the residence.
He jumped out.
Ran.
Past the dead security personnel. Through the front entrance. Up the stairs.
Please be alive. Please be alive. Please—
He burst into the study.
And stopped.
The room was destroyed.
Furniture overturned. Blood everywhere. Bullet holes in the walls.
And in the center—
Defense Minister Nakamura.
Lying on the floor.
Dead.
Kaiser's world stopped.
He walked forward slowly.
Knelt beside the body.
Checked for a pulse he knew wouldn't be there.
Nothing.
"No. No no no no—"
Behind him, footsteps.
Silas, Marcus, Ren, and Akari entered.
Saw the scene.
Went silent.
"We're too late," Silas said quietly.
"The Defense Minister..." Ren whispered. "He's—"
"Dead," Kaiser finished. His voice was hollow. "He's dead. And Daidan killed him."
He stood.
Turned to face them.
His expression—usually controlled, professional—was pure rage.
"Find him. Find Daidan. Find everyone working with him. I don't care how long it takes. I don't care what resources we need. FIND THEM."
"Kaiser—" Marcus started.
"FIND THEM!" Kaiser's voice echoed through the room. "He just killed one of the highest-ranking government officials in Japan! He declared war! And we WILL respond!"
Silence.
Then Silas nodded. "Understood. We'll find him."
"Good. Because when we do—" Kaiser looked down at Nakamura's body. "—I'm going to kill him myself."
[END CHAPTER 20]