I'm in Conan, I'm not a gangster

Chapter 346 The Black Organization's Counterattack (2 Updates)
The factory was filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant and a faint odor of blood.

In the dim light, police and FBI agents moved through the rooms, searching every suspicious corner.

Kuroda Hyoue stepped over the broken glass, his leather shoes making a crisp sound on the ground. His gaze swept over the experimental subjects imprisoned in iron cages, their eyes vacant, and his brow furrowed.

“Commander Kuroda!” A public security detective rushed over and reported in a low voice, “We found… a ‘special sample’ in the innermost freezer.”

Kuroda's eyes darkened as he followed the detective deeper into the factory. Pushing open the heavy metal door, a blast of cold air hit them.

Amidst the billowing white mist, several enormous corpses lay silently inside the cryogenic chamber—their muscles were bulging, their skin an unnatural bluish-gray hue, and some of their limbs had even mutated, exhibiting inhuman characteristics.

"Just as I thought..." Kuroda muttered to himself, the video footage provided by Amuro Tooru flashing through his mind.

These corpses are irrefutable evidence of the organization's human experimentation.

“Looks like we’ve found the same thing.” James’s voice came from behind. He walked in with several FBI agents, their gazes also falling on the corpses, a hint of seriousness flashing in their eyes.

The two exchanged a glance, understanding each other without saying a word.

They all understood the value of these "samples"—not only as evidence of crimes, but also as key to studying organizational techniques.

“This evidence must be kept under strict guard,” Kuroda Hyōe spoke first, his tone calm. “I will arrange for the Public Security Bureau to take over.”

James chuckled and shook his head. "I'm sorry, Mr. Kuroda, but these things are too important. The FBI will hold them at the embassy for now, pending further analysis."

Kuroda Hyōe's eyes instantly turned cold: "Mr. James, this is Japanese territory. All evidence should be handled by the Japanese Public Security Bureau."

“Theoretically, that’s true,” James shrugged, his tone relaxed yet undeniably assertive. “But given the international nature of the case, the FBI has the right to prioritize key evidence.”

Kuroda Hyoue's fingers tightened slightly, his knuckles turning white. He stared at James, his voice low and menacing: "Are you planning to disregard Japanese legal procedures?"

“Legal proceedings?” James smiled knowingly. “Mr. Kuroda, you and I both know very well what the consequences would be if these things were made public.”

He paused, his tone slightly sarcastic: "Besides, do you really think your police force is capable of properly safeguarding it?"

These words completely ignited Kuroda Hyōe's anger.

He stepped forward, a dangerous glint in his single eye: "Are you questioning the capabilities of the Japanese Public Security Bureau?"

The surrounding agents sensed something was wrong and stopped what they were doing, watching the confrontation between the two officers with bated breath.

James remained unyielding, instead offering a meaningful smile: "I'm merely stating the facts. If Mr. Kuroda has any objections, perhaps he should consult his superiors?"

Kuroda Hyōe's chest heaved violently. Suppressing his anger, he said coldly, "Fine, since we each have our own version of events, then let's each take half and divide it fairly."

“Hahaha—” James suddenly burst out laughing, as if he had heard some absurd suggestion: “Mr. Kuroda, if I may be so bold, you have no right to bargain.”

His smile vanished, his eyes sharpening: "Not a single needle of these things will remain in Japan."

Kuroda Hyōe's face darkened completely.

He stared intently at James, then suddenly turned to the police officers behind him and ordered, "Seal off the scene! No evidence is to leave without my order!"

James narrowed his eyes: "Are you sure you want to do this?"

“Absolutely certain,” Kuroda Hyōe replied coldly.

The air froze instantly, both sides tensed up, their hands unconsciously resting on their sidearms.

James stared at Kuroda Hyoue for a few seconds, then suddenly sighed and pulled his phone from his pocket: "It seems we need to have someone more influential communicate with us."

As Kuroda watched James dial the phone, a sense of foreboding welled up inside him.

Sure enough, his phone rang in less than five minutes.

Kuroda Hyōe's expression changed drastically after he answered the phone!

Because it was the call from the Commissioner General of the National Police Agency, the top official in the Japanese police system!

"Yes...I understand...but..." Kuroda Hyoue's knuckles turned white as he gripped the phone, his voice filled with suppressed anger.

Finally, he hung up the phone stiffly, his face ashen.

James put away his phone and looked at him calmly. "Now, we should be able to reach an agreement, Mr. Kuroda."

Kuroda Hyōe took a deep breath, suppressing his humiliation, and waved to his subordinates: "Withdraw the defenses."

The police detectives reluctantly stepped back, and the FBI agents immediately stepped forward and began moving the cryogenic chambers.

“Mr. Kuroda,” James said in a low voice as he passed by him, “don’t take it to heart, I’m not targeting you, it’s just… international practice.”

Kuroda Hyōe did not respond, but simply stood there watching the FBI agents load the crucial evidence onto the truck piece by piece.

His single eye reflected the headlights of the departing car, and his fist was clenched tightly.

"Sir..." a police detective hesitated, unable to finish his sentence.

"Dismissed." Kuroda Hyōe's voice was hoarse and weary. "Tonight's events are classified as top secret."

He turned and walked towards his car, his back looking particularly lonely in the moonlight.

He lost this game completely—not because of a lack of ability, but because of the gap in national strength.

However, while they were arguing, the people from the distillery had already picked up their weapons.

James was directing FBI agents to load the last batch of experimental equipment onto the transport vehicle when he suddenly felt a chill on the back of his neck.

"boom!"

An RPG streaked across the night sky, leaving a trail of flame, and struck the lead transport vehicle precisely. The explosion illuminated the entire factory area as if it were daytime, and the shockwave shattered the windows of surrounding buildings.

"Sniper! Three o'clock!" an agent shouted as he fell to the ground.

"Thud!" A bullet pierced his temple.

Gin's silver hair fluttered in the night wind. Standing on the high vantage point, a cold smile played on his lips as he spoke into his earpiece: "Leave no one alive."

Vodka, carrying the rocket launcher, excitedly loaded the second round: "Great, bro!! Damn, this is really awesome!!"

"You don't even need to aim, you can just fire it!"

"It's incredibly powerful, and the explosion is devastating!! No wonder that ruthless bandit loved this thing so much!!"

On the other side, Chianti and Cohen moved like ghosts in the shadows, and with each sniper rifle spitting fire, an FBI agent fell to the ground.

"Retreat! Retreat to the factory!" Cold sweat beaded on James's forehead. He had never imagined the Black Organization would dare launch such a large-scale attack near Tokyo!

The FBI agents hastily retreated, dragging their wounded comrade along. Vermouth, using a silenced rifle, accurately struck the fleeing man in the back of the heart with every bullet.

"How pathetic," she chuckled, her red lips particularly alluring.

Kiel deliberately slowed down and fired in the wrong direction, secretly creating an escape opportunity for the agents who were lagging behind!

"Kuroda! We need backup!" James roared into the communicator as a bullet grazed his ear, leaving a bloody gash on his face.

Inside the factory, Kuroda Hyōe watched this scene through the monitor, a hint of pleasure flashing in his single eye.

He slowly picked up his teacup: "Mr. James, didn't you say we weren't allowed to interfere?"

"You fucking—" James hadn't finished speaking when another explosion occurred.

Gin had already led his men to break through the outer defenses. He held an MP5 submachine gun, his black trench coat billowing in the smoke.

Each shot precisely reaped lives, as if the Grim Reaper had descended.

"Sir! The east flank has fallen!" An FBI agent rushed in, his face covered in blood, to report.

James turned pale; he finally realized that he had seriously underestimated the organization's strength.

Tokyo was far more dangerous than he had imagined.

"Kuroda! I order you to provide immediate support!" he roared hysterically, "or you'll regret it!"

Kuroda Heibei put down his teacup, a hint of gloom flashing in his eyes.

He knew James wasn't joking.

"Tsk." He reluctantly pressed the communicator: "All units, begin assisting the FBI on defense."

Public security police emerged from their hiding places, and the dense barrage of fire temporarily halted the organization's offensive.

“Gin, the police have intervened.” Vodka said into his earpiece, hiding behind a burning car.

Gin squinted and saw the reflection of a sniper scope flashing past the second-floor window of the factory.

He scoffed, "Continue the advance. Destroy everything before reinforcements arrive."

"Give me some time." Vermouth had already hidden herself away and was beginning to disguise herself again as a dead FBI agent.

Chianti's sniper rifle kept hitting her targets, but she was still intentionally holding back, only hitting once out of every three shots.

We can't put in any more, or we'll arouse suspicion.

"Damn it!" James hid behind a machine, watching more and more of his men fall in pools of blood. His arrogance had long been replaced by fear, and now he only hoped to leave this place alive.

Kuroda Hyōe stood in the monitoring room, coldly observing the massacre.

He both hoped more FBI agents would die, and worried that things would escalate beyond control. This internal conflict made him irritably loosen his tie.

"Sir, the troops will arrive in ten minutes," the adjutant reported.

Gin paused for a moment, then received some messages through his headset.

He suddenly raised his hand to signal a halt to the attack.

"Retreat," he ordered curtly.

"What? Not yet—" Chianti exclaimed in dissatisfaction.

"Now!" Gin interrupted coldly, then quickly withdrew.

Seeing this, the other members didn't waste any words and quickly made their escape.

The members of the Black Organization appeared as suddenly as they did, quickly disappearing into the night.

All that remained was a scene of utter devastation and the sounds of wailing and lamentation.

James slumped to the ground, his expensive suit stained with blood and dust.

He shakily pulled out his cigar, but couldn't light it no matter what he did.

Kuroda Hyōe walked up to him, lit a cigarette for him, and said, "They... are much more arrogant than I imagined."

James didn't say anything, he just kept smoking.

(End of this chapter)