Jodie ran in a hurry.
The corridor echoed with the sound of a circle of high heels, she rushed into the surveillance room as if she hadn't heard or realized she was still stepping on seven or eight centimeters of high heels, "What's the situation?!"
The FBI agent in the surveillance room stood up, "We've accessed the nearby surveillance, Mr. Akai has arrived!"
The moment she rushed in, Jodie saw the huge screen inside the surveillance room.
The screen, which was almost as tall as a man, was now divided into six pieces, each of which was a camera feed.
On one of the red light cameras, there were two parked cars.
The two cars were ordinary looking, not race cars, but just a relatively high end and a somewhat low end car, one black and one red.
In the black car was Akai Shūichi, wearing a knit cap, not tying up his hair, and not looking at the traffic lights, but looking to the side of the red car.
He's in a hunting mood, ready to go.
Inside the red car was a young man, a young man Jodie had never met in person, but knew all too well.
His hair was almost pure white, a little long and wolf-tailed, and he looked careless enough to smile at Akai Shūichi.
The two cars went off at the same time, disappeared from that piece of surveillance video, and appeared in another piece of surveillance video.
One FBI investigator immediately cut out the original surveillance and replaced it with another one from a nearby intersection, while several other FBI investigators were scanning the densely-packed surveillance at nearby computers, clicking on the traces of the moving vehicles as soon as they were spotted.
They were trying to keep both vehicles on the screen as long as possible.
Jodie watched eagerly as the cars flashed on the screen and the surveillance cameras kept jumping around.
The black car and the red car are crashing.
The cars didn't look like they were racing, they looked like they were in a collision course, both trying to kill each other on the next collision.
The surveillance cameras clearly capture the occasional spark as the cars collide.
But here's what's strange: occasionally, Akai Shūichi gets the upper hand, but he doesn't go for a straight sprint away from the red car.
And when Ichijō Mirai has the upper hand, he doesn't just sprint away from the black car either, even voluntarily slowing down a bit when he's partially separated by a turn, just to slam into the black car.
They really are not competing for speed, but are using their lives to crash the car.
...These two maniacs.
Jodie's face turned ugly and she cursed, "Psychopaths!"
She took a deep breath and was about to turn her head to ask her men about the public opinion when she saw a sudden change on the monitor.
The black and red cars were no longer traveling in unison or side by side.
As they entered a long stretch of road, Akai Shūichi took advantage of the turn to overtake them, and the black car arced through the air, almost being thrown in front of the red car, which turned 360 degrees and aimed at the front of the red car.
This is to force the red car to stop.
But when the black car's front end was about to hit the red car's front end head-on, the red car spun violently and swerved without hesitation.
It spun out of the street it had just entered and headed for another off-ramp.
The black car followed.
They were up again, one behind the other, side by side with the occasional spark.
Jodie was suffocating.
She releases her instinctive breath-hold, gasps for air, clasps her hands together and stares at the screen, gritting her teeth a little, "...You psychopaths!!!!"
How dare you overtake a car and hit the front of the car with the front of the car!
I don't think it's a bumper car!!!!
She was gritting her teeth, but glanced at the corner of the surveillance video of a little light, a stunned, "That's..."
"A gun?!"
As the two cars sped up again, shots were fired.
The shooter, probably awakened by the sound of cars bombing the world, didn't even put on his clothes, climbed out of bed, grabbed a shotgun, stood on the second-floor balcony and fired at a car not far away.
He was aiming at the red car.
But the moment he fired, the red car, as if it had expected it, suddenly shifted speed, flashed like a ghost, forced the black car to pass, and took off by itself.
The black car was shot in the roof.
It didn't hesitate for even a second, as if it hadn't noticed the sudden change, and continued to bite the red car.
The gunshots continue to ring out, and on the silent surveillance video, the flashes of gunfire flicker two or three more times.
One shot hit the black car, the rest hit nothing, and a hand poked out of the red car's driver's side window, which shook a few times as if in thanks.
The shooter angrily fired again and again, but the two cars were already out of range and only one screen in the far corner of the FBI surveillance room remained for him.
He lowered his gun with a curse.
Jodie took a few long looks at the shooter and continued reading.
The FBI has added a few more to its hate list.
The noise was so loud that not only Mr. Shotgun, but a number of others were awakened and instinctively exercised their gift of freedom, shooting without thinking.
For the black and red cars, their shots were completely random and unpredictable, like some sudden crisis in a racing game.
But the red car dodges every time.
The black car wasn't hit again, and from the second time onwards, every time the red car suddenly changed lanes and speeds, it would also avoid it.
In the heat of the chase and collision, the two cars began to fall apart.
An FBI agent who knew the cars well whispered, "Their race is almost over."
The race, which had no fixed route, no fixed time, no fixed finish line, and only a fixed starting point, would come to an end when one, or both, of the cars could no longer maintain high speed.
And the bottom line is: "Mr. Akai's car is more seriously damaged."
Jodie held her breath again, watching the surveillance.
Even the FBI agent sensed this, so of course Akai Shūichi knew.
So, at an intersection where he could see the turn, he narrowed his eyes and looked at the looking red car.
The moment he crashed into it, the red car crashed into it with even more vigor, and they collided together, crashing into a roadside barrier and stopping their movement.
The black car hit the wall, the front hood popped up, and half the front end was almost dented, spreading smoke.
Akai Shūichi was slumped over the steering wheel, motionless, with red blood gushing out, and his right hand was in an odd position, appearing to be broken.
The red car that crashed into the black car was in a better condition, but also quiet, without a single movement.
After the loud crash, the whole street fell into dead silence.
Ichijō Mirai woke up from the blackness and briefly examined himself, realizing that there was blood on his body.
Not feeling any pain, he didn't bother to check his wounds, so he opened the door, got out of the car, leaned against the body of the car, and gasped for breath as he looked into the black car.
In the black car, Akai Shūichi stirred and barely looked up.
His knit cap was mostly wet, blood was trickling from his eyes and dripping down his chin, and he was having trouble breathing.
His dark green eyes were bloodshot, and he looked like a dying prey, unable to fight back and waiting for death to come.
...Look.
Ichijō Mirai snorted, "What is it, Mr. Akai?"
"You," Akai Shūichi closed his eyes, trying to sit up but failing, his voice with a 'ho' sound attached to it from his throat, "a question."
[The winner has to answer a question for the loser.]
Ichijō Mirai looked at Akai Shūichi.
Akai Shūichi's voice was so low that one had to listen carefully to recognize that it must have hurt his internal organs, and it became lower and lower, and finally, Ichijō Mirai could hardly hear it.
To hear it, he had to walk over to it.
Ichijō Mirai was still looking at Akai Shūichi.
The black car was smoking.
In the spreading smoke and silence, he moved his red eyes, smiled, ignored the black smoke from the black car, and walked over to him, bracing himself, "What's the question?"
His gaze swept over the car, over Akai Shūichi's right arm.
Up close, the oddity of Akai Shūichi's right arm was even more obvious, with white bones piercing through the clothing.
The arm was clearly unusable.
Ichijō Mirai was no better.
He leaned lazily against the driver's door of the black car and pressed down on his broken ribs a few times, "Speak."
Akai Shūichi rose with difficulty, only his left hand able to move, and said, "'Satan,'"
"About 'Satan'..."
The broken words and a strong wind came at the same time, and Ichijō Mirai immediately attacked the direction of the wind without looking back.
"Click."
The sound of handcuffs was heard.
Ichijō Mirai's handcuffs were added to his right hand, and his body was pulled towards the car window by the force of the handcuffs and Akai Shūichi's power, and he was almost forced inside.
He looks at the flash of silver on his wrist, raises an eyebrow, and looks to the driver's seat.
In that instant, Akai Shūichi struck again, taking the cuffs on his left hand with him, driving up Ichijō Mirai's cuffed right hand, restraining him from behind, and strangling him halfway around the neck with the chain between the cuffs.
A feeling of suffocation hit him.
Akai Shūichi struck hard, not as if his right hand had been disabled and he could only strike with his left hand, which he didn't normally use, but as if he were using his favorite hand to deliver a deadly blow that had been patiently lurking in a viper's nest for a long time.
Ichijō Mirai did not resist.
His physical skills were never very good, and his specialties were mostly in the realm of escaping from the police, not in face-to-face combat with them.
But that didn't mean he was incapable of judgment.
"Left-handed?"
Akai Shūichi calmly said, "Yes, left-handed."
The injuries were so severe that Ichijō Mirai could feel a viscous liquid rolling down his back, running down his body like an open faucet, soaking his shoulders.
He wasn't much of a cleanliness freak, but he couldn't help but frown at the presence of blood, "Practiced?"
Akai Shūichi: "Jeet Kune Do."
Well, well, well, professional.
Even though he was seriously injured, even though he was subdued and had difficulty breathing, Ichijō Mirai smiled, "Cheating?"
The race was over.
But Akai Shūichi sneaks in.
At the moment when the race was over, the winner had been decided, and he was pretending to ask a question, he attacked with a single blow that killed him.
Akai Shūichi's facial expression was almost always tense and expressionless, but now he smiled.
"Yes, cheating."