Isn't it very scientific to use the Death Note to kill people?

The organization member giving the report was clinging silently to a low section of the exterior wall like a gecko. His hydraulic shears were locked onto the rusted grille latches of the ventilation duct, and as he steadily applied pressure, the metal snapped silently.

"My explosives are ready and I can detonate them at any time."

"Roger that, I have five seconds left. Once I'm inside, I'll decide whether to detonate it based on the situation inside, creating a diversionary tactic."

As the man spoke, his hands continued to move, and with a soft "click," the last lock was cut.

Then, he carefully removed the heavy grille and gently leaned it against the wall, revealing a deep passage that could only accommodate one person at a time. A musty smell of metal and dust wafted out.

"I'll wait for your signal."

The member who planted the explosives didn't urge him; his finger hovered over the detonator, his eyes fixed on his partner's direction.

Gin's instructions were to infiltrate and then kill.

As lowly members of the action team, they knew that their target was the FBI—but they didn't care. All they knew was that those who performed exceptionally well in this operation would be given codenames and become executives of the organization.

This is undeniably attractive to them.

The member who removed the grille quickly and silently slipped into the dark ventilation duct like a fish, leaving only the faint sound of clothes rubbing together.

From a distant observation point, Gin coldly watched as the dots representing his own personnel spread and infiltrated the factory map like a virus.

Vodka stood by, overseeing communications and operating auxiliary equipment.

"These two newcomers are pretty quick."

Vodka grinned as he noticed the dot of light on the screen moving rapidly deeper into the factory area.

Gin's gaze lingered on that point of light for a moment.

He snorted.

The organization occasionally recruits some peripheral members, and a small group of people can indeed be useful after training... This group of newcomers performed quite well this time.

But compared to the amazing performance of Cointreau, which he had personally discovered, it was ultimately quite ordinary.

"Big brother, progress is going smoothly. The perimeter has been cleared, the infiltration team is in position, and no alarms have been triggered."

Vodka reported in a low voice, his tone tinged with excitement.

Gin has not yet responded.

His green pupils reflected the moving dots of light on the screen. Although the situation was progressing according to his plan, he felt inexplicably restless and uneasy.

what happened?

He frowned unconsciously.

At this point, he was actually somewhat dissatisfied with this troublesome infiltration.

Ideally, they should combine Vermouth's disguise skills. If that woman were there, their operation would be much easier... At least if she were inside to help them, they could just let her take the Vespania ore in directly, instead of going through all this trouble.

They just had to disappear at this crucial moment.

Gin felt a surge of anger.

He was extremely dissatisfied with Vermouth's recent mysterious whereabouts and repeated unresponsiveness when called.

He was frustrated by the fact that he needed the woman's help at a crucial moment but couldn't access it, so he decided to deal with her after everything was over.

“Kier,” he suppressed his displeasure and ordered into the miniature microphone in his collar, “take your men and cut in from the west wastewater treatment channel. The structure there is more complex, and the defenses may be relatively weaker. Make use of that.”

"learn."

Rena Mizunashi responded calmly immediately, without revealing any emotional fluctuation.

"Tequila," Gin continued, "Demolition team, prepare. Lock down the main office building entrance. Await the signal for the Kiel team to be in position. Proceed as instructed."

OK.

The agave responded with a gruff voice.

An invisible net is slowly but firmly tightening between the rusted skeleton of the factory.

The newcomer who had entered the ventilation duct was crawling forward, holding his breath and concentrating intently, in the narrow, dark metal passage.

He stirred up the thick layer of dust that had accumulated on the pipe walls, causing it to drift away silently. All he could hear in his earpiece were his own suppressed breathing and the occasional, extremely brief confirmation signals from his companion.

(It's too quiet...)

Even by a newcomer's standards, he sensed something was amiss.

According to intelligence, this is an FBI outpost. Even if the outer sentries have been cleared, the interior should not be so lax, with even the most basic motion sensors or vibration sensors not being triggered.

Could it be that we didn't have time to equip ourselves with these things?

But he didn't have time to think it through.

Ahead, the pipes curved, and a faint sliver of light pierced through a gap in the grille behind the bend. He cautiously peered inside—

Below is what appears to be an abandoned workshop, but the central area has been cleared out and furnished with a few makeshift tables and chairs, scattered with electronic devices, leftover pizza boxes, and coffee cups.

In the corner, there were even several open equipment boxes piled up, with bulletproof vests and communication equipment peeking out from inside.

(Found it!)

The newlyweds were overjoyed.

The chaotic scene resembled the state of personnel who had just been evacuated or were on rest shifts. He quickly inserted a miniature camera through the gaps in the grille and transmitted the footage back in real time.

"The target area has been discovered, suspected to be a temporary command post. There is abandoned equipment and supplies inside, but no personnel have been found."

He lowered his voice and reported to Gin at a rapid pace.

In the distance, Gin looked at the slightly blurry image transmitted from the tactical tablet and did not respond immediately.

(So ​​it really is here...)

"Target confirmed. Kiel, report your location," he ordered coldly.

"We have reached the end of the wastewater treatment channel. The valve connecting to the main plant is rusted shut and needs to be blasted. We expect to be ready in thirty seconds." Rena Mizunashi's voice remained calm.

"Agave, stand by."

"Anytime is fine," came the rough voice of Tequila.

Meanwhile, several other groups that infiltrated from other directions also reported that they were "safe" or "had found traces of activity but encountered no resistance".

The entire factory was like an undefended ghost town, allowing them to enter freely.

"Brother, it seems the FBI never expected us to find this place. Their defenses were too lax!" Vodka couldn't hide his excitement; in his mind, victory was already in sight.

Gin did not respond, but stared at the green dots on the screen representing his own personnel, which spread like a virus throughout the core area of ​​the factory.

The spot of light from the newcomer who initially infiltrated through the ventilation duct has even moved to the ventilation duct beneath the main office building.

Something's not right...

It went far too smoothly.

Gin frowned, a suspicion that this was a trap briefly crossing his mind.

But if it really is a trap, why haven't there been any signs of it being triggered yet? Would the FBI be so reckless as to gamble with an entire facility and high-value targets?

Something's not right—

He abruptly pressed the communication button, "Group Two, retreat, confirm the bodies of the two sentries on the high point, and send back the pictures."

"clear."

The second group members, who were given orders, did not ask any questions. They immediately got up and, like cheetahs, silently withdrew from their hiding place, quickly making their way to the location where the two sentries had fallen on the outskirts of the factory.

A few minutes later, the other party's voice rang out again: "Inspection complete, Lord Gin. My target here is wearing civilian clothes under an FBI standard bulletproof vest, and the underwear is standard. I also found an FBI badge on him, and his appearance matches the previous intelligence, as does the photo on the badge."

"It's the same on my end; the images from the scene have already been sent."

Another member of the second group spoke up.

The image was quickly transmitted back.

Gin quickly opened and zoomed in, glancing at the confirmed features before his gaze fell on the target's palm.

You could indeed see calluses on the base of the thumb and knuckles of his hand from years of holding a gun, and his skin didn't look like that of a homeless person who had been exposed to the elements...

Gin, who couldn't see anything wrong, was relieved.

(The documents, equipment, disguise... everything matches up.)

Although he felt a little uneasy, he never doubted Rum, who was the second-in-command.

Then there are those FBI guys; even if they set a trap, they wouldn't sacrifice their own comrades.

What's more, before the operation, Rum grinned and said he would provide some help... Gin didn't pay much attention at the time, but now he thinks it must have been his mole in the FBI who sabotaged things.

For example, they might have adjusted patrol shifts or provided incorrect defense maps, which made the stronghold's defenses so weak that they were able to advance unimpeded.

Relieved, he gave the order:

"Kiel, after the explosion, groups three and four will work together to storm the main plant."

"Tequila, Kiel Team, detonate the bomb simultaneously, blow up the main office building entrance, create chaos. Team One, Team Two, launch a full-scale assault."

"All units"

Gin's voice, sharp as an ice blade, severed the last vestige of hesitation: "Open fire freely once inside the factory. Leave no survivors. The primary objective is to locate Naomi Algent and eliminate her first."

The order was clearly communicated to every member of the operation.

Inside and outside the factory, all the gun barrels were quietly raised, and fingers were on the triggers.

The demolition expert's fingers hovered over the detonation button.

The air was filled with the final, deathly stillness before the storm.

Meanwhile, underground in the factory, in a hidden space sealed off by a heavy metal door, a group of burly figures calmly watched the dots of death on the screens of hidden cameras scattered throughout the factory, stepping step by step into the... optimal kill range they had carefully measured.

One of them picked up the encrypted communicator and reported in a low voice:

"The target has begun to connect to the network. Get ready."

"hey-hey"

"Once this deal is done, I'll have everything."

Chapter 111: Reversal

boom!!

A dull bang shattered the factory's silence, and the rusted metal doors of the main office building twisted and flew off in response.

In that instant, two members of the organization who had been on guard on both sides of the door immediately rushed in, their MP5 submachine guns flashing across the hallway under the bright beam of their tactical flashlights.

"Safety!"

"Left lane cleared!"

The report was brief and clear.

Tequila's burly figure stepped in next, carrying a shotgun, his sharp eyes sweeping across the dusty, rubble-covered ground.

The beam of the flashlight swept across the wall, leaving only some fresh scratches and mold spots.

"Tsk, they run pretty fast."

Tequila spat and waved his hand, "Group One, come up to the second floor! Group Two, clean all the rooms on the first floor, quick!"

The team members surged toward the stairs and corridors like a black tide.

Soon, intense gunfire erupted from the second floor, but it lasted only a very short time.

"Two people were killed in the room on the east side of the second floor!"

An excited report came through the communicator: after breaking in for so long, they had finally spotted the enemy.

Agave rushed up to the second floor.

At the end of a corridor, he saw two FBI agents lying in pools of blood. They were wearing bulletproof vests and holding standard-issue pistols, but he noticed that the gun next to one of the bodies was still on safety.

Suspicious, Tequila stepped forward, kicked the gun away, and crouched down to examine the body briefly. The body still had an expression of extreme terror on its face, unlike a well-trained agent, but more like... an ordinary person who had been scared out of their wits.

"what the hell……"

He muttered to himself, but the constant reports from other teams in his earpiece—"Clearance complete" and "Target eliminated"—suppressed his doubts.