Perhaps because rain was imminent, darkness settled over Tokyo earlier than usual.
In a van speeding down the highway, Morimoto Chiyoda spread the map of Biological Research Lab 47, obtained from Iwaki Kususuke, on a small table. The facility was octagonal with four exits. The top featured a helipad. It spanned three floors above ground and included a basement. The ground floor housed various biological research labs, numbered 1 to 30. The second floor contained a dining area and a recreation center with fitness equipment, table tennis tables, basketball courts, and more, to ensure the staff's physical and mental well-being. The third floor consisted of dormitories, with a total of 60 rooms.
The Z Drug was just one of many pharmaceuticals developed by Biological Research Lab 47, not its sole product. Iwaki Kususuke hadn't obtained the specific details. The information was heavily encrypted and stored in the most secure core, and he couldn't access this critical data. Iwaki Kususuke used to boast that his hacking skills were unmatched. However, in reality, he was not as formidable as he claimed. He couldn't breach all systems of Biological Research Lab 47, managing to acquire only partial information. This meant they would need to break into Biological Research Lab 47 and copy all the data on the Z Drug onto a USB drive.
"Based on the information Iwaki gathered, the Z Drug data is in Lab 8," Morimoto Chiyoda said, her expression solemn. "We can use high explosives to breach the outer wall and enter the courtyard from the west. Before that, we need to deal with the sentry towers at each corner. Their staffing is unclear, but their firepower is undoubtedly top-tier, very likely including machine guns. I suggest deploying drones carrying explosives for a kamikaze-style attack. Then, we must move as quickly as possible to Lab 8 to retrieve all information on the Z Drug."
Okayama Buji was driving, while Iwaki Kususuke, Miyaji Yosuke, and Kitanotake listened. After much deliberation, Miyaji Yosuke had decided to participate in the operation. He couldn't tolerate such a horrendous case unfolding right under his nose without taking action.
"Can't we use a drone to scout for more specific details at the scene before we go in?" Miyaji Yosuke asked.
Iwaki Kususuke shook his head. "My cyberattack can only paralyze their system for 15 minutes. Any longer, and we can't stop them from calling for reinforcements. The U.S. Forces Japan from Yokosuka Port will arrive immediately. We have to act fast."
Miyaji Yosuke frowned slightly. "Dealing with the enemy and copying the Z Drug data within 15 minutes is a tight schedule."
"No matter how tight, we have to do it," Morimoto Chiyoda stated. "You all saw the message from Ito. The Z Drug is essentially a complex poison. The longer we delay, the less chance Emily has of being saved. We must develop an antidote while the toxin's effects are at their weakest." Looking up, she added, "Okayama, if you're tired of driving, let someone else take over. We need to maintain our optimal condition. It's a considerable drive from here to Kawagoe city in Saitama Prefecture."
"Okay," Okayama Buji responded and continued driving.
Aozawa slipped out of the van like a breeze. He already knew Morimoto Chiyoda's plan: to retrieve the so-called Z Drug information from Biological Research Lab 47, which was related to Emily. The lab was in Kawagoe city, Saitama Prefecture. There was no need for him to rush. He decided to go back, eat a meal, then assume his Dio persona and deal with Chitose's problem preemptively.
「Night fell.」
Outside Kawagoe city in Saitama Prefecture, a narrow path branched off the main road, winding through the mountains and leading to Biological Research Lab 47. Besides the octagonal research facility, there was a rather spacious courtyard with attractive landscaping. High walls enclosed the exterior, and the iron entry gate was very sturdy. Electrified barbed wire ran along the top of the walls, and sentry towers, each equipped with a machine gun, stood at the corners. To ensure the security of the research, an elite U.S. Army platoon was stationed here.
Harold Rosen was their platoon leader. He stood 6 feet 5 inches tall, with dark skin and a very solid build. In summer, Harold wearing a green tank top made one suspect he could wrestle a black bear bare-handed. He favored tank tops and long pants, wearing them whenever the occasion permitted, whether in the scorching summer heat or the biting winter cold, to display his meticulously sculpted physique. His boundless energy had earned him the nickname "Black Gorilla" among the U.S. soldiers in his platoon. Of course, they only dared use this nickname behind his back, never to his face. However, Harold had long overheard their private nickname for him and wasn't annoyed in the slightest. A superior not mocked by his subordinates isn't a good superior. He considered being given such a powerful nickname by his subordinates proof of his success as a superior.
Harold began his routine nightly patrol, first checking in via walkie-talkie. "Matik, report the status of the sentry towers."
"Reporting to Platoon Leader Harold! No anomalies!" Matik shouted back. It's been three years since I was stationed at Biological Research Lab 47. The place isn't far from Yokosuka Port—who would dare cause trouble here? According to the old-timers, guarding this place is like a long, paid vacation where you can just hang out at the recreation center. But Harold's personality means our entire platoon maintains stricter military training than even at Yokosuka Base. That Black Gorilla must have a screw loose. Or maybe he's just severely paranoid, staying vigilant for three years straight, always on alert for some unseen enemy that could strike at any moment. It's just tough luck for us. We don't get any of the perks the guys before us had. Instead, we spend all day worrying if the Black Gorilla will spring a surprise inspection.
"Very good," Harold said. "You all need to stay alert. The enemy could appear at any time. Report any abnormal situation to me immediately!" He then called out, "Locke, remember to send the security status report to the base on time."
"No problem."
Harold issued these minor orders and received their acknowledgments, but he still didn't feel at ease. He knew that prolonged comfort could dull his subordinates' vigilance, which wasn't good. He had to keep a close watch on the situation at all times. Unlike the ordinary soldiers, he knew Biological Research Lab 47 was different now. More experimental subjects had arrived recently than in all the previous years combined. This indicated ample funding from above and signified that the higher-ups placed great importance on the research results here. He had to be careful, exceptionally careful. It was the only way he could distinguish himself and get ahead. Harold was born in a slum, but unlike many others there, he didn't choose a degenerate path. Since childhood, he had set a goal: to rise above his circumstances and shatter the stereotypes associated with his skin color. He prioritized inspecting the specimen storage, checking if the personnel guarding the experimental subjects were slacking off.
「The specimen storage was located in the basement.」
There was only one entrance and exit. When Harold opened the door, the lights in the corridor leading down were already on. He descended the stairs. Downstairs, there was a large, prison-like room. Tables and chairs were placed outside it for two U.S. soldiers on duty. Inside the room were 19 individuals of various ethnicities. One of them muttered in a language Harold didn't understand, "Damn intermediary, cheated me out of hundreds of thousands, sent me here to let those Mexicans..."
"Platoon Leader Harold!" The two U.S. Army soldiers stood up and saluted.
Harold nodded. "You need to be careful. They are precious experimental materials; we can't let them die."
"You two didn't touch the experimental subjects, did you?" Harold asked, his voice stern.
"No, Platoon Leader Harold! We've adhered to your policy and haven't interacted with the experimental subjects in any way!"
Harold didn't speak, just stared at the soldier with an icy gaze. After a moment, the pressure made the soldier's forehead break out in sweat. He confessed, "I'm very sorry, Platoon Leader Harold. I lied."
"If you have that much excess energy, get out and run 20 laps around the research facility!"
"Yes!"
After punishing the soldier, Harold was about to continue his inspection when a report suddenly came through his walkie-talkie from the sentry tower, "Platoon Leader Harold, a blond man is on the road, approaching our position. Are we expecting an inspection from the higher-ups today?"
Hearing Matik, Harold realized something was wrong. He hadn't received any notice of an inspection. Considering those martial artists with their freakishly strong physical abilities, Harold immediately ordered, "Kill him."
"Don't we need to confirm his identity or issue a warning first?"
"No need. I haven't received any notification." Harold was decisive and trusted his judgment. Anyone appearing here unannounced, not from the higher-ups, had only one fate: death.
"Okay," Matik replied, his gaze shifting to the road ahead. The night was dim. The blond man continued his casual approach, completely unaware that Death had him targeted, his life's clock ticking down.
Matik relayed to his companion, "Platoon Leader Harold's order is to kill him."
"What a pity," the companion remarked.
Despite his words, the man's face showed no sympathy. He aimed the machine gun at the blond man several dozen meters away and pulled the trigger.
RATATAT! A burst of bullets flew out. By the time they registered the sound, the figure should have collapsed, like a character in a video game.
Yet, in their sights, the man was still slowly approaching.
"Hey, your aim is atrocious!" Matik criticized. "What kind of outlining marksmanship is that? It's not like we're in the middle of a firefight. The guy was standing still, a stationary target, and you completely missed! That's beyond ridiculous."
The shooter broke out in a cold sweat. Astonished, he stammered, "That's not right... I clearly aimed at him. Why isn't he dead?"