Morofushi Hiromitsu looked down, glancing downward.
He could only see the eaves of the bank, but as if his eyes had passed through them, he saw Ichijō Mirai's expression, which was unusually serious.
Even though Ichijō Mirai's tone sounded as careless as usual, rather heartless, like a casual excuse to put the police under pressure and then not quite go out of his way to appease them.
But he knew it belonged to Ichijō Mirai.
The words of a man who had to have a deep understanding of how incompetent some of the police were, and how incompetent he himself was.
"...Yes," Morofushi Hiromitsu spoke up, changing the subject, "I noticed that the senior police officer was talking on the walkie-talkie, and there was a figure moving in the direction of 9 o'clock, it seemed to be a police assault team, but I'm not sure, may I ask?"
Ichijō Mirai repeated, "9 o'clock?"
He went along with the conversation, not emphasizing that he really didn't think most of the police he'd seen so far deserved to be police officers, "It's the back door."
"It's okay then, they're dead, Furuya, Kenji, start preparing lunch."
"I'll have a sandwich."
As he spoke, Ichijō Mirai's eyes swept across the bank's lobby and landed on a surveillance screen in one corner.
It was the back door's security camera.
The camera was an automated camera that would make a 140-degree turn to capture as much of the neighborhood as possible. It took thirty seconds to turn from one extreme to the other, then it would freeze for ten seconds, turn again, and add up to a total of forty seconds.
During this period, once captured the portrait, the camera will automatically track, if the portrait violently out of the monitoring range, or too many portraits, the camera will stay in place for ten seconds, to resume slow steering movement.
The bank's staff knew this, and so did the police team that came to raid the bank. They didn't break into the back door at first, but crouched in the alley waiting for instructions, like a silent mushroom.
The silent mushroom shows a little stalk.
Ichijō Mirai pressed his finger against his furrowed brow and muttered to himself, "It's only half a foot, and the cameras didn't lock on to a human figure, so this team of police officers is doing a great job."
"..."
"I'm starting to wonder if it's not a bit unnecessary to seriously prepare a trap to deal with them."
He looked at the hall monitor again.
In the lobby, Furuya Rei had briefly informed all the hostages of the unfortunate news: 'Trading is suspended, take a break for dinner'.
And the good news, which was better than nothing: 'You can order food'.
The hostages were clearly not satisfied, and there was a bit of a buzz, rising and falling like rippling water, but it quickly subsided as Matsuda Jinpei and Date Wataru from the lower floors returned to the first floor lobby.
All the dissenting hostages saw Date Wataru's face.
It was a face with a wide jaw, a bold, deep face, thick eyebrows, a face that kills at least one person a day, and a face filled with obvious impatience, and it said, "I'm not a police cadet, I'm a real robber in the middle of nowhere.
It also says, 'Shut up and I'll kill you.'
It doesn't look like an act.
Within seconds, the hostages behaved themselves, even when Furuya Rei was picking out the unlucky ones, those who weren't picked sat on the ground, resting and pretending to be mushrooms, and those who were picked stood up and became Furuya Rei's targets.
Kenji Hagiwara walked out of the bank and headed for the cordon again as he had done in the previous hostage exchange, only this time he didn't bring any hostages with him, only a menu.
This change was obviously of concern to the police, and Ichijō Mirai saw the group of police at the back door who had been working as mushrooms move.
The lead officer's toes shifted and he stepped back a bit out of the surveillance area, then quickly moved forward again, not just partially on his feet, but partially on his tensed legs and arms, crouching, his arms dangling below his knees in what appeared to be a walkie-talkie or a headset.
After a few moments, perhaps because the police had learned of the outrageous request from Kenji Hagiwara, the police officer leaned forward a few centimeters again, revealing a portion of his face in the surveillance video, which was sternly pinched and staring at the bank's back door.
He looks like a cheetah that has its sights set on an enemy and is ready to strike.
After leaning forward to a certain extent, Mr. Cheetah suddenly swept the ground and slowly stepped back.
The back door of the bank is a relatively remote alley, which leads to a street that is very different from the main entrance of the bank and has to turn another corner, and the road surface of the alley is not the kind of flat concrete floor of the street, but a large piece of floor tiles, the floor tiles are not of the same color, but there are some differences in the color of the tiles, and it seems that the color of the tiles is not uniformly mixed on the ground.
Mr. Lead Officer had just leaned forward and his head almost crossed the edge of one of the tiles.
The camera's turned away.
Ichijō Mirai pulls up the recording, zooms in on the surveillance video, looks at the borderline, then at a building almost flush with it, and raises an eyebrow: Error.
It could be a misinformation, the scope of the surveillance provided by the bank was wrong, the error was about five or six centimeters, not too big, but in some moments it could be fatal.
Or it could be an error of understanding, where the police misinterpreted the information provided by the bank.
Either way, the police made a mistake.
As the camera automatically turned back, Ichijō Mirai exited the recording mode and looked at the real-time monitor again, absently watching the police crouch and lurk in place, silently counting the small movements of the lead policeman's crouch, and then shifting his gaze when he noticed something strange happening in the lobby.
In the lobby, Furuya Rei shot one of the hostages, quickly backed up, took another hostage, moved forward, and stood by the bank's glass window again.
Morofushi Hiromitsu's voice rang out, "Snipers are watching, be careful to hide your body."
"Well, this hostage is bigger than me," Furuya Rei's voice tightened a bit, "Kenji,"
Kenji Hagiwara: "I'm safe."
"The police have agreed to the request."
He slowly backed away from the bank before whispering somewhat gruffly, "But, they don't have a pleasant expression on their faces."
"...Probably planning to attack."
The official police attack came thirty minutes later, and while the police delivered some of the easier-to-find food items on the menu as a matter of urgency, they placed them far away from the bank, and Kenji Hagiwara went to pick them up, both parties being quite restrained and polite throughout, keeping their words and actions together at a level that did not provoke hostility.
In contrast, a police assault team launches a surprise attack from the back door.
The leader of the police is an elite police, kicked the door into the action is very skillful, skillful, like a flawless thinking FBI, he rolled into the back door with a gun, and then use his knees to stop rolling, raised his gun guard, but did not in the field of vision to sweep any of the robbers guarding the back door.
He only caught a glimpse of the police officer who had followed him into the back door.
He frowned, and was about to wave his hand and give the order when he heard a sudden, crisp sound in front of him.
It was the sound of a glass jar.
A glass jar rolled down the corridor towards the back door, containing a white slip of paper, and rolled unhindered all the way to the police officer's side, where he reached out and picked it up.
He looked down and saw.
[Cause of death: explosion of a homemade bomb.]
...Wh- what?
Before the officer in charge could react, a dull but amplified sound, similar to the sound of a heavy object hitting the ground, sounded from the direction where the glass jar had rolled.
When amplified by the speakers, it sounded a bit like the impact of an exploding bomb.
The Officer: "..."
There is more than one side of the note in the glass jar, except that one side has large, concise handwriting and the other side has small, dense handwriting.
The smaller side was on the inside, so the glass jar needed to be opened and the note removed to read the writing.
The camera at the end of the corridor had turned to the door, and because it recognized a human figure, it stayed for a long time pointed at the back door.
The officer in charge looked up at the camera, down at the glass jar, then back at his colleagues, who hadn't even recognized the handwriting yet.
He paused.
After three or four seconds, he glanced at the camera again before he finished his mental struggle, lowered his gun, and went to open the glass jar while briefly explaining the situation, "We were killed in action, killed by the robber's Molotov cocktails."
The officers, who were so bewildered and alert that they almost shot the glass jar: "..."
"?!"
In the midst of the question marks popping up, the lead officer took out the note, "The note in the glass jar said we died from a homemade bomb,"
"If it was anyone else,"
He didn't finish the sentence before he said the twist, "but this time, we're up against someone who, as you well know,"
The name 'Messiah' was so well known that almost the entire police department had heard of this Savior student, and were incredulous that he was truly a Savior, being spontaneously helped and embraced by countless people in Tokyo.
Some of the officers may not have heard of him, but at the start of the bank robbery drill, they were well aware of the enemy.
There was something intimidating about an enemy like that, and it was as if you were the criminal who had no right to be against him, but fortunately, the number of Reds was so small that the Blue camp was able to stabilize itself without any disturbances.
"I believe him."
The lead officer, who had never met Ichijō Mirai before, said.
If it were any other maneuver, and someone from the other camp had dropped a note saying they were dead, he wouldn't have believed it for very long, and would have had to explore the area for a few moments before believing that he had actually been killed in action for no reason at all.
But Ichijō Mirai, he believed.
He unfolded the note, and read it, "Sugar in quantity... recipe for homemade bomb,"
"Estimated power. All personnel within three meters killed or seriously injured."
"Two locations, one at the end of the hallway, one..."
"To the right of the back door?"
The camera's on the left.
The bank had provided maps and notes before the operation, so the police officers had subconsciously glanced at the cameras as they rolled through the door, but hadn't paid much attention to the left side, and only looked over when they heard the officer hesitantly reading the note.
One of the closer police officers looked over, scanned left and right, and finally settled on a trash can that looked like it wasn't worth caring about. "Bombs in a trash can?"
Some regular facilities and some people are usually blind, such as cab drivers, staff, and banks are equipped with garbage cans, but no one pays attention to them except the people who have to throw out the garbage and the janitorial staff.
The police officers, of course, didn't care either, until now.
The closer police officer cautiously reaches for his gun, picks at the trash can without opening the lid, "It's a small gap, basically just cigarettes or something," he says.
He picked out a piece of rope.
It was very thin, no thicker than two or three strands of hair combined, and at one end was a disintegrating black rope that came to an abrupt end.
Another police officer subconsciously looks to the back door, reaches in, feels around the door, and pulls the other half of the rope.
It was a rope attached to a bomb.
If this hadn't been a drill, but a real bank robbery, and there had been a real bomb in the trash can, all the police officers would have been killed the moment they marched in the back door of the bank and triggered the bomb.
Even if they survived, they'd be out of action.
A back door bomb would have been enough to kill them, not the one in the corridor.
Officer in charge: "..."
Police officer: "..."
"So we," The police officer hesitates, "go?"
"...Go, get the second assault team in, tell them in advance to watch out for bombs."
The first assault team left the scene in three minutes.
Two and a half minutes were spent studying the cause of death.
The second assault team arrived.
The second strike team left the scene in five minutes.
Two minutes on the bomb, two minutes on the cause of death.
Third assault team arrives.
The third assault team left the scene in two minutes.
Two minutes on the cause of death, triggering the homemade bomb.
Fourth assault team arriving.
The fourth assault team left the scene in 23 minutes.
Ten minutes walking in the alley, eight minutes walking inside the bank, five minutes working on cause of death.
(Narrator) The fifth assault team arrived.
The fifth assault team left the scene in ten minutes.
Nine minutes of that time was spent moving at a constant speed, preventing the receipt of [Machine Gun Shot Cards] if we were going too slow, [Molotov cocktails] if we were going too fast, and [Gas Leak Cards] if we were going too fast.
One minute researching [cause of death: smoke grenades obscuring vision + machine gun fire + Molotov cocktails exploding.]
The note isn't white, it's gold.
On the back is the usual small print, only this time, in addition to the recipe and location, there's an extra line: [Five in a row must produce gold light :)].
It's a good idea.
The fifth raid team: "..."
They leave the field with the golden light.
The sixth assault team arrives.
The sixth assault team raises its hands and surrenders in the middle of the bomb formation.
The sixth assault team sends a cordial greeting and a question: "Where did you get so much sugar?!"