"Sigh… This kid, buying so much food. Most of it will end up in the fridge." Michael placed the mountain of snacks in the car, carefully closing the door. The sun had long set, and a chilly wind rustled the leaves, lifting the hair from his forehead.
The wind carried a symphony of scents and sounds: the aroma of various dinners, the clatter of dishes, the sizzle of cooking oil, the chatter of families watching television, the wails of a crying child.
Michael looked up at the starless night sky and chuckled.
"Alright, alright." To himself? Perhaps.
He strolled leisurely, like a salaryman heading home, not a driver-bodyguard on duty.
Five minutes later, he reached the intersection where he'd parted ways with Mei. It took him another five minutes to find the ramen shop.
He entered. Like the street stalls, it was sparsely populated. Mostly elderly residents and children—low traffic, low spending power.
A quick glance confirmed Mei wasn't there.
"Hello there," he greeted the idle ramen chef.
"Hello! Want a bowl of ramen?"
Michael shook his head, and the chef's face fell.
"Just wondering, have you seen a girl with long purple hair, wearing a black baseball cap?"
The chef eyed him suspiciously. Michael's attire and demeanor, combined with his inquiries, screamed "gangster."
Fortunately, Michael wasn't in the habit of reading minds, though it wouldn't be difficult. He'd only interacted with two people all day, besides Mei, and both had pegged him as a delinquent. Was he that intimidating?
The wary chef pondered, then shook his head. "Haven't seen anyone like that."
"Really?"
"No, I know all my regulars. Same faces every day. I'd remember a new one."
Before he finished, Michael turned and walked out. He'd already sensed no trace of Mei within the shop.
The chef watched him leave, bewildered.
Michael, lips pressed together, walked until he was outside, then smirked.
"Interesting. Finally showed their hand. But stealing my person? They've got guts!"
…
"Tap… tap…" Mei walked haltingly, dry-swallowing, eyes darting around, trying to orient herself.
Everything was shrouded in darkness. All she could see were identical buildings.
"What's happening? Is it one of Father's rivals? Did they follow me? What about Michael? Is he with them?"
Mei's thoughts raced. Her pace slowed, and a cold, hard, cylindrical object pressed into her back.
"Move! Don't try anything funny!"
Mei instinctively turned her head, and the gun jabbed her harder.
"Stay still! Don't move your head!"
She inhaled deeply, resuming her slow march.
Having grown up in a prominent family, Mei had been taught what to do in a kidnapping scenario: stay calm, avoid confrontation, don't resist.
Then, try to engage the kidnappers in conversation, gather information.
There were more instructions, but none of them, except the first, seemed applicable.
She hadn't even seen her captor's face. She'd been walking towards the ramen shop, and suddenly, a gun was in her back.
Judging by the shadow under the streetlight earlier, it was a girl, about her height, voice somewhere between her age and Michael's. But this girl, or rather, the group she represented, was clearly experienced, offering Mei no opportunities.
She was forced to walk at a steady pace, neither lingering nor fast enough to escape if the shadows deepened.
Unable to turn her head, her limited vision was further restricted. After being led through a maze of alleys, she was completely lost.
She had tried to initiate conversation, but the girl remained silent. If Mei raised her voice, the gun pressed harder as a warning.
If they wanted to kill her, a single shot in the street would suffice. Why kidnap her? They clearly wanted something from her father. Logically, the gun was an empty threat.
But she couldn't risk provoking them. Kidnappers weren't known for their rationality. Even if they didn't kill her, a shot to the limbs would be… unpleasant.
Her only resistance was to occasionally pause, a feeble attempt to stall.
It wouldn't buy her much time. Even if Michael was incredibly capable, he couldn't possibly catch up… Wait!
Mei stopped. The gun jabbed her back.
But this time, the girl didn't urge her forward.
Footsteps approached from the shadows ahead, growing closer and closer.
The alley was narrow, barely wide enough for two people. Mei felt a hand on her shoulder, pushing her roughly to the left.
The girl was trying to avoid the approaching figure. Staying to the right would minimize contact and conceal the gun in her right hand.
Strangely, as the footsteps neared, barely a few meters away, they stopped.
The new moon offered little light. The alley was dark, further shadowed by the abandoned buildings. Even with strained eyes, the kidnapper could only make out a tall, but not particularly bulky, figure.
She swallowed, sensing what was coming.
Mei exhaled slowly.
A sliver of moonlight pierced the clouds, briefly illuminating the scene.
"Bang!" The silencer muffled the gunshot, but it still echoed through the alley.
The girl stared in disbelief. In the time it took her to pull the trigger, the man had pulled Mei aside and grabbed the silencer, deflecting the bullet.
Yes, when a gun appears in a story, it must be fired. But fired doesn't mean it hits.
The bullet grazed the fabric of his suit jacket, perhaps even his skin, but it was inconsequential, a mere scratch.
The girl, despite her youth, was a seasoned mercenary. She didn't try to fight him, nor did she panic and empty her magazine. Her response, at least in her mind, was flawless:
She instantly released the gun, pressing the magazine release, catching the falling magazine. She retreated, drawing a second pistol from her back—this one, shorter, lacked a silencer. But that was someone else's problem.
All of this happened within a single tick of her watch. Now, she just needed to bring the gun to bear and, relying on her extensive training, take him down.
What did he have? She'd observed him carefully. He wasn't carrying any visible weapons. The only risk was her discarded pistol, which, though lacking a magazine, still had a round in the chamber.
But she wasn't afraid. She wore a ballistic vest, easily capable of stopping a silenced Parabellum round at this distance. And she'd led Mei on a long detour. He'd be winded, his heart racing. In this darkness, she doubted he could aim anywhere other than her torso.
But things didn't go as planned. She drew her second pistol, but before she could aim, he tossed the empty pistol at her, hitting her weapon.
"Clack!" The impact sent her gun flying. She watched in despair as both pistols clattered away.
Before she could reach for the knife in her boot, he was upon her, a swift kick to the abdomen sending her sprawling.
"Go!" He didn't pursue her, grabbing Mei and running.
"Tch!" Half a minute later, the girl recovered, pulling herself out of a pile of trash. "…He actually held back…"
If he hadn't kicked her into the trash, but sent her flying twenty meters, she'd have broken several bones.
"Damn! Lost to… him again." She pulled back her hood, revealing crimson eyes that gleamed in the moonlight.
She tapped her wristwatch. "Bad news, the target was rescued by her bodyguard. Ural Silver Wolf, it's your turn."
"Don't worry, I won't fail."
Hearing the confident reply, Natasha chuckled silently.
…
Run. Just run, following the figure ahead. At first, Mei glanced back occasionally, checking for pursuit. But after two minutes, all she could hear was her own ragged breathing.
The taste of blood filled her mouth, her throat felt raw, her lungs burned, and she imagined her alveoli bursting one by one.
Michael dragged her for almost a kilometer before they reached the end of the labyrinthine alley.
"Screech—" He stopped abruptly, three meters from the exit.
Mei, propelled by inertia, would have stumbled out, but he pulled her back, their backs against the rough, cold wall. After a few seconds, her legs gave way, and she slid down. Her vision brightened, everything edged with white light, then filled with swirling motes.
"Deep breaths! Open your mouth!" She vaguely heard Michael shout.
She gasped, and a rush of cool air filled her lungs. The burning sensation vanished. If her legs weren't jelly, she wouldn't have believed she'd just run at a speed far exceeding her sprint record for two minutes straight.
"What… what was that?" She looked up, seeing only his profile in the moonlight.
He seemed unaffected by the run, chest barely heaving, as if he didn't need to breathe. He watched the street warily.
"I'll explain later. Right now… there's a fifty-story building at five o'clock. Nagazora is low-lying. From here to the Raiden estate in the hills, everything's visible from that rooftop. If I were them, I'd set up a sniper there. Coverage extends to Sakuramachi, and a skilled sniper could even block the bridge to the eastern district."
Mei stared at him, stunned. He described the terrain perfectly, a stark contrast to the clueless driver from earlier.
But there was no time for surprise. "What do we do? Should I call Father…?"
"No need." Michael turned, offering a reassuring smile. "Minor issue. Wait one minute."
Mei didn't understand, but given his previous actions, she trusted him.
A minute passed. The roar of an engine made her raise an eyebrow, then her eyes widened in fear. She couldn't be mistaken! It was the Raiden family car.
But… wasn't the driver right here?
She grabbed his arm.
"Hmm?" He grunted in surprise.
Mei quickly let go. He was solid, warm, not some apparition.
"Screech—" Tires left black marks on the road, clearly visible even at night.
The rear passenger door opened, facing the alley. Before Mei could react, Michael scooped her up.
"Get in and stay down!"
He tossed her into the back seat, and the door slammed shut.
Mei curled up as instructed, then, curiosity overriding fear, she peeked towards the front seat—
Empty.
The car had driven itself?
She blinked, and Michael was suddenly behind the wheel, clutch, gearshift, accelerator—a seamless flow of motion as the car sped away.
"But… there was no door opening or closing sound…"
Mei felt dizzy, disoriented. Her hand brushed against something. It was the street food, scattered across the seat during the sudden acceleration.
…
"Tch! Tough one… Hah… what the…" The girl, Ural Silver Wolf, perched on the fiftieth floor, stared in disbelief.
"Raven, are you sure your intel is correct? Only one bodyguard-driver?"
"What do you mean? You think I can't count? I'm not that old!"
"You're right, but that car just drove itself."
"Huh?"
"Same license plate. The driver wasn't in it. Why don't you go after them?"
Bronya grumbled, shifting her scope to Sakuramachi, then, seeing the crowds, to the bridge southeast of it.
She chambered a special round.
Hitting a person in a speeding car at that distance was impossible, but she could try hitting the car itself.
Before the car appeared, a stern yet weary voice came through her earpiece.
"Forget it, mission failed. Both of you, return to base."