On July 6th, at 4:00 a.m., the entire Tokyo-based FBI was killed.
There were two types of fatal injuries, external and internal.
External wounds were inflicted by a 30-centimeter blade, killing over a dozen people with wounds to the neck and heart.
According to the traces in the museum and the scene of the crime, these people are in a state of being alone with someone from behind to cover the mouth and nose, a sharp blow to death, most likely to the end of the breath did not make an effective sound to wake up coworkers.
Internal injuries are varied, with the most prevalent fatal injuries being caused by syringes, venous air embolism, and in some cases the presence of narcotics in the victim's system.
Throughout, no non-FBI personnel noticed anything unusual, not even that the phone lines had been cut.
It wasn't until dawn that the shock was realized.
On July 6th, at 7:00 p.m., a second FBI team arrived.
Once again, all Tokyo-based FBI investigators were killed.
The fatal wound was a gunshot wound, inflicted by a sniper.
The sniper rifles went off with a bang, like a salute, and the scene was festive, with Tokyo police, government officials, media, and the public dancing in the spirit of the holiday.
They looked like they were doing some kind of ancient tribal dance around a bonfire, but there was no bonfire, so they had to crawl out of the scene.
Ichijō Mirai, not delighted by the festive atmosphere, doesn't join in the fun, but instead says, somewhat wanly, "It's so noisy."
The best way to hate a song is to set it as an alarm clock and live with it every day. The best way to hate a sound is to listen to it for a few days and nights at a time, leaving your ears in an endless cycle of 'hearing it at first, not getting used to it' and 'getting numb'.
The painkillers were able to block out the pain in the eardrums and shoulders.
Shortly thereafter, the sound of sniper shot after sniper shot came again, striking Tokyo like a nightmare, leaving the citizens of Tokyo and the neighboring cities in a state of panic.
The equally panic-stricken organization was quick to pick up the unfortunate news on the news.
Ichijō Mirai wasn't lying, and in his debriefing with Gin, he asked rhetorically, "Are you satisfied?"
He said in a serious tone, "I don't believe you when you talk tough."
To which Gin replied, "Don't go too far."
A very feeble answer, and the boss kindly announced 'the company has been financially tight recently, so let's reduce the salary first, and then increase it back after a period of hard time together, OK? When the subordinates answered 'Yes'.
It was pale and powerless.
What's more, Gin added, "Tokyo is in chaos."
Tokyo was so polarized, everyone knew the devil had risen from hell.
Most of the black people, white people, or ordinary residents who didn't participate in camp confrontations or camp trading activities, were honestly stirring their legs and playing dead, and were very well behaved.
But a very small number of people went on a rampage.
Under Ichijō Mirai's leadership, there have been a lot of shootings in Tokyo lately.
And none of them were committed by members of the organization.
Gin never imagined that one day he'd be bothered to quell the unrest in Tokyo.
While the police were doing it out in the open, the Organization was doing it in the shadows.
They were both desperate.
"Huh? The police represent the light of day, and the Organization represents the darkness of the black world," Ichijō Mirai said casually, "so I'm not in charge of the twilight between day and night?"
He said slowly, "I'm in charge of finding you something to do."
The phone went silent.
But Ichijō Mirai solemnly warned, "Don't scold your coworkers."
"..." Gin inhaled deeply without moving, adjusted his breathing, and said in a quiet voice, "Tokyo is not New York, and the tone of the two cities is different."
Every city is different, some are more prosperous in trade, some more in politics, and for different cities, organizations have different plans.
Whatever the original plan for Tokyo was, it was never to become the same type of city as New York.
He said, "Aren't you being paranoid."
Ichijō Mirai realized something, and wondered with hindsight: Wasn't Gin too good at cursing?
But, "What did you say?"
"Aren't we yakuza?" Ichijō Mirai understood the reasoning, and Ichijō Mirai understood the emotion, but he was still a bit confused, "What did you just say?"
"In what capacity are you saying this?"
He strictly interrogated his boss, "Are you trying to betray the organization?!"
That's too police-like! It's too civilian! It's too FBI!
It's not the tone of a black man!
Gin: "You know what I'm talking about."
Ichijō Mirai: "Oh."
He stops making trash talk that is designed to mess with the mindset of his superiors, stops being crazy for a moment, and says sincerely, "But, this is a mission given to me by the organization."
"-To teach the FBI to tuck their tails in."
"The organization has already left the novice stage, and most of the terrorist organizations that need to create all kinds of chaos are different, what is needed is stability, only if the city is stable, you can be profitable," he said lightly, "The targets you are targeting, many of them are people like the president who are not ordinary citizens and some powerful technicians."
"These are the ones that thrive and flourish with a stable city as their soil."
When an organization grows to this point, it doesn't really matter if it's black or white, or official or unofficial.
It is not pure black and white, but gray, not purely official, not purely unofficial, but a contradiction where the official and the unofficial can work together intimately, and can also kill without moving.
But, "It has nothing to do with me."
Ichijō Mirai patiently repeated, "Nothing to do with me."
Gin seemed to want to say something, but Ichijō Mirai didn't give him a chance and continued smoothly, "Do you really think that I care about my so-called mother, my so-called revenge?"
"Do you really think that the Organization has bound me, and that I'll only be a member of the Organization from now on?"
"'The organization knows everything about me, and once I leave the organization and get hold of the evidence of my crimes, there will be no place for me in the world, and I can't go back to the world of light, so I can only serve the organization', some people in the organization think so, right."
He inquired, "Do you think that I would care about being in the light, not in the light, wanted, not wanted, having to deal with pursuers and not having to deal with pursuers?"
Of course not.
Ichijō Mirai was a true madman.
The day he's happy, on a whim, and calls to report 'Hey, good morning, it's a sunny day, I'm going to blow up Tokyo!' It all makes sense.
Gin was silent.
"If you want me to join the organization, you have to give me some goodwill, right?"
Ichijō Mirai was talking to Gin, but not to Gin, but to the leader of the organization.
"Pretending to be threatened and forced all the time gives me the illusion that I'm going to the sea, and resisting appropriately," he said lightly, "Once or twice is fine, but all the time, it's a bit boring."
"The third batch of FBI, will be completely destroyed in three days, as to whether there is a fourth batch, fifth batch, sixth batch..."
Ichijō Mirai smiled, not saying any more, and turned to, "Dear Lord Chief,"
"Three days, I give you three days,"
"To please me."