Tokyo: The Player Behind the Scenes.

Chapter 291, Section 38: Okeechobee

The night was deep, and the humid summer air, carrying the scent of decaying plants, drifted in from Lake Okechobi, weighing heavily on the nearby town.

On the highway leading from Miami to the town, a lone Suburban is driving with its high beams on, about to enter the town's inner lanes.

The lights on both sides of the road have increased sporadically, but it is still dim overall, especially on the left, where the huge lake is completely dark.

"Officer Mike, we're about five minutes away from Okeechobee. Okay, sorry to bother you."

Agent 11 hung up the phone and looked at Agent 12, who was driving: "Luckily, we were assigned to Florida. Texas has had a church killer these past few days who specializes in shooting in churches. His marksmanship is unbelievable. Agents 17 and 18 both died there."

“No matter how strong you are, you can’t escape being surrounded.” 12’s expression didn’t change much. “But you’re right, it’s better to bare your teeth at a crocodile than to compete in marksmanship with a seemingly supernatural being.”

While a superhuman might not necessarily die from a gunshot wound, it's hard to say for them.

"It would be nice to stay in Georgia. Maybe I could get Muramasa Taki's autograph. Those things are worth a lot of money now, and there's no market for them." 11 dreamed, resting his head on his pillow. "If I brought one back to my daughter, she would definitely jump up and kiss me three, four, five, or six times."

"Too many people want to get close to her; it's not our turn. Even the President has to make a special trip to see her," 12 said bluntly.

Muramasa Takii focused on his investigation as soon as he landed in Atlanta, without any intention of engaging in social interactions. How wonderful! It seems that once you have the power, you can ignore unnecessary social niceties.

“That’s not wrong,” 11 sighed.

"Getting too close to the extraordinary may not be a good thing," 12 remarked.

11 chuckled: "I understand that principle. I want to live a couple more years, but I don't want to be one of those secret agents in the movies. I couldn't be that good even if I died eight hundred times."

Because of Silver Cup Estate, the National Security Special Response Bureau has no intention of letting go of those seemingly ordinary events that are happening in the Southern states.

They firmly believed that the devil is in the details.

However, manpower is ultimately limited, so different manpower was allocated according to the level of suspicion in different states.

Florida, as a neighboring state of Georgia, was in the second tier of suspicion and was assigned a number of special agents and investigators.

The two of them were in charge of several incidents of people being injured by crocodiles or other animals that had occurred in the past few months.

Others are responsible for investigating all sorts of random rumors and stories.

The document also included a list of animals, stating that special attention should be paid to these twelve species.

But there were even dung beetles in there, and they couldn't figure out how dung beetles could hurt people.

Putting feces into a water glass while someone is asleep?
That's very hurtful.

Alligators are the animals they value most because they are the most likely to cause injury. Florida alligators are also quite famous, with about ten incidents of injury occurring every year.

Miami has a designated place to store the carcasses of alligators that were recently killed and injured people, for scientific research or specimen making. There are no more old ones; they have all decomposed in nature.

However, after expert evaluation, most of these crocodiles were found to be unremarkable. The most unusual one was simply a natural mutation and not much different from ordinary crocodiles.

The two agents reviewed the records and found that the officer who killed the unusual crocodile mentioned that the crocodile's armor was thicker than usual, but experts found nothing unusual after examining it. The bullets had penetrated the crocodile's body, but because the crocodile was large, the bullets failed to penetrate vital organs.

If they could just buy a little more time, the crocodile would bleed to death.

They also tested it themselves and compared it to the strength of a regular crocodile.

Taking into account the instructions from above not to overlook any abnormalities, they did not delay and embarked on a journey to the town of Okechobi overnight. They made an appointment in advance by phone with Mike and Officer Jess, who had killed the alligator, and then rushed to their house.

Okechobi is a small town with only a few thousand inhabitants. Apart from attracting a large number of fishing and nature enthusiasts in winter, it doesn't attract many tourists for vacation and can't compare to cities like Miami.

As the car entered the town, the sparse streetlights cast dim yellow halos in the night fog, barely illuminating the somewhat desolate streets.

Occasionally, a few muffled splashes could be heard from the lake in the distance, probably from fish hunting for food.

The address given by the police officer was some distance from the lake. Following the navigation, we found the house number and parked the car in the open space in front of the house.

They must have heard the engine sound from inside, then the wooden door opened, and warm light streamed in.

Mike, dressed in civilian clothes, greeted him with a warm smile: "Agents from Washington? Please come in, the mosquitoes outside are biting." His partner, Jess, also stood inside the doorway, welcoming him.

"Excuse me." Agent 11 shook hands with them and handed them his credentials for verification.

The two men glanced at it casually, handed it back, and welcomed them into the house.

The room was furnished with a homey feel, very tidy, and the floor was spotless. There was no one else around, and the aroma of grilled fish mingled with the distinctive scent of sweet tea. "Have a seat, and try some bass? We just caught it today," Mike said, pulling out a chair and pointing to the deep-fried, thinly sliced ​​largemouth bass on the table.

This is Florida's state fish, a specialty of Lake Okechobe, and it's almost at its peak season now.

Most of the fishing enthusiasts mentioned earlier came specifically for this type of fish.

"Thank you, I just ate."

12 politely declined the food, only taking a sip of the chilled sweet tea; 11 did the same.

“I understand, business comes first.” Mike shrugged, not insisting, and sat down opposite them, with Jess following.

“We’re here mainly to find out about the crocodile you killed in the North Shore Swamp a while ago,” 12 said bluntly. “I saw in the report that you felt the crocodile’s hide was unusually tough when you killed it. You shot it multiple times and it seemed to be unharmed until it finally died after being hit in the eye. But the autopsy by experts found no abnormalities. We need to reconstruct what happened.”

Mike and Jess exchanged a glance. Mike picked up a fish fillet and ate it, crunching it as he pondered, "I don't remember the details very well. We received a call that someone was being dragged by an alligator, and we rushed over. When we got there, the scene was quite chaotic. Someone was being dragged along the ground with their shoulder bitten, a guy in a floral shirt was hitting the alligator's back with a golf club, and another guy in a wheelchair was even more aggressive—he drove his wheelchair straight into the alligator's face! The scene was... wow."

Jess nodded: "Yes, the wheelchair guy could jump up and run after the collision, like nothing happened. The crocodile was enraged and bit off another person's arm. We rushed over and opened fire, but because of the tension and avoiding the wounded, the first few shots missed."

11 and 12 did not interrupt and listened quietly.

“Then a gunshot rang out, and the crocodile charged at us,” Mike continued. “A few shots were fired, and Jess hit it in a vital spot, and it fell. It was pretty tense at the time; maybe everything was magnified a bit? After all, these large animals are quite difficult to kill if you don't hit them in a vital spot.” He shook his head, as if he couldn't remember.

Jess, standing nearby, nodded casually: "Thinking about it now, it might just be an illusion caused by nervousness? Or a problem with the lighting? The swamp has a lot of moisture, which makes things look distorted."

11. Follow-up question: "Exactly how many shots were fired?"

Mike frowned: "Open. Hmm. About one magazine per person? I think the report said that."

12. After a moment of silence: "What happened to the person whose arm was bitten off? What became of him?"

“Oh, him,” Mike replied immediately. “He was badly injured; his arm was bitten off. After we stopped the bleeding, the ambulance took him to a big hospital in Miami. I heard he had surgery and survived, but his arm was mangled beyond repair. I guess it can’t be put back together. What a tragic story for him.”

He shook his head, his tone tinged with sympathy.

Did you follow up on his situation afterward? Or did he mention anything unusual?

“No,” Jess shook his head, eating a slice of fish. “After we finished dealing with the scene, the rest is up to the hospital and animal control. The injured person’s family hasn’t contacted us again. I guess it’s just a regular alligator attack incident, and even if they seek compensation, they won’t be able to find us.”

"Besides, if anything unusual happens to him, the hospital will definitely report it to you, right?"

Officers 11 and 12 exchanged a glance. The two officers' explanations didn't seem wrong; tension could indeed distort perception. Their expressions were natural, their eyes unwavering, so they shouldn't be lying. Were they going to check on the injured person?
No, if nervousness caused the perception to become distorted, the writer should have already calmed down by the time they wrote the report, so there was no need to deliberately add those descriptions.
"Are you really not going to eat it? It won't taste good when it gets cold." Mike and Jess were enjoying their sea bass so much that they even licked their fingers; it looked really delicious.

12 shook her head, refusing again, and took a sip of her iced tea: "Thank you. We want to go and see for ourselves."

“No problem,” Mike readily agreed. “But it’s too late now, and the lake area isn’t safe at night, and you can’t see very well. How about we stay here and go tomorrow morning? I have a spare room at home anyway.”

"Thank you, we've already booked a hotel." 12 refused, but in reality, he hadn't booked one; it was just a polite excuse.

“Okay, the Water Lizard Inn on the east side of town is nice. I don’t know if you’ve booked there, but I recommend it.” Mike checked the time. “We’ll wait for you here tomorrow morning at nine?”

11 and 12 said their goodbyes, and Mike and Jess, carrying the plate of fish, warmly saw them to the door while they ate: "Take care, see you tomorrow. But...really, won't you try the specialties?"

12 gave 11 a helpless look.

11 reluctantly took a piece, took a bite, and found it crisp, fragrant, and sweet and sour. Hmm? It was indeed quite good.

“It’s delicious.” 11 nodded in surprise and picked up another slice.

“Of course, this is a local specialty, and this method is my secret recipe.” Mike winked proudly.

The two said goodbye, and the Suburban drove away, its taillights disappearing into the increasingly thick night fog.

At the entrance of the cabin, in the warm light, the smiles on Mike and Jess's faces gradually faded.

Mike slowly turned his head to look at Jess. His face and eyes changed in the shadows, long white hair gradually appeared, and his pupils slowly elongated and narrowed, looking like the vertical pupils of a goat.

Jess silently grinned, his mouth stretching almost to his ears. A dark red, wet tongue, far longer than a normal person's, emerged from his mouth. The tongue nimbly sprang out with lightning speed, precisely catching a mosquito dancing in the light, before instantly retracting into his mouth. He swallowed softly, his throat bobbing slightly.

The two exchanged a glance, said nothing, turned around, went back inside, and closed the door.

(End of this chapter)