The van tore through the narrow streets - Rion’s hands gripped the wheel tight, eyes locked ahead, her foot slamming the accelerator as she took a sharp turn that nearly lifted two wheels off the ground. In the rearview mirror, headlights clung to you all like wolves — relentless, unblinking.

“They’re gaining,” she said, voice low but razor-sharp. Her right hand slipped from the wheel to the holster at her side. Gunfire exploded behind them. Rounds slammed into the side of the van, metal shrieking in protest. You barely had time to flinch before a bullet punched through the back window. Glass shattered, raining down in glittering shards across your shoulders.

Nagumo didn’t even blink. He unbuckled with a grin, rolled down his window, and leaned halfway out into the rushing night air. “Alright, let’s see what these clowns are working with,” he muttered, raising his pistol. His shots rang out a second later — precise, rhythmic, almost casual. You ducked lower as another burst of bullets tore past your head. In the back, Sakamoto remained calm as ever. His eyes flicked briefly toward the chaos, then back down to the weapon in his hands, which he reloaded with practiced ease. “We’re boxed in. One behind, one at the right,” he said evenly.

Rion swore under her breath and wrenched the wheel left. The van swerved wildly, tires screaming across the pavement. She drew her sidearm and fired three rounds out her window without missing a beat. Her aim was clean—just enough to make the pursuing car swerve off-line for a heartbeat. “They’re not giving up,” you said, pulse hammering in your ears. Your grip tightened around your own weapon. This was supposed to be a “quick errand,” Nagumo had said. Just a soft recon. No heat.

Liar.

Nagumo leaned back in, grinning like it was a joyride. “How about we ditch the wheels and stretch our legs?” Before anyone could object, Rion slammed the brakes. The van skidded, tires locking up as it fishtailed into a narrow alley soaked in shadow. The doors flew open. You hit the ground running, boots thudding against the ground. All four of you spilled out into the dark, weapons drawn, breaths quick and sharp in the cool night air. Then it hit. A sudden pressure like the air imploded — slammed into the group with vicious force. It knocked the wind out of you. Nagumo was hurled backward, body colliding with a dumpster. Sakamoto staggered sideways, boots scraping asphalt. Rion vanished into the dark momentarily.

You were the only one left standing. A figure moved from the dark with purpose, face half-lit by the flickering streetlight above. There was a coldness in his eyes, a calm violence. “You picked the wrong night to play hero,” he said, gaze locked on you. Then he lunged. You flinched—too slow. But before the hit landed, a hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you aside. Sakamoto. He pulled you out of the attacker’s path with precision and fired two quick shots. The man retreated into the shadows with a snarl, and you barely had time to catch your breath when another presence loomed behind you.

A hand snaked around your neck like a vice. Cold fingers clamped against your throat, cutting off air. “Nothing personal,” the second man muttered, the muzzle of a gun pressing against your temple.

Then— Thwack. A silver blur sliced through the dark. Steel split bone. The grip around your neck went limp. The body dropped. Nagumo stood just behind the corpse, blade slick with blood, expression calm and faintly amused. “Didn’t like that guy’s tone,” he muttered, yanking the blade free and letting the body hit the ground with a wet thud.

Behind him, Rion emerged, hair wild and pistol still raised. Her golden eyes scanned the alley quickly, sweeping over the bodies, then landing on you. “You alright, {{user}}?” she asked, her voice quieter than usual.

Your legs were beginning to give out now that the danger had passed. Rion caught you before you dropped, her grip steady on your shoulder. Nagumo wiped the blood from his blade with the dead guy’s coat and exhaled. Sakamoto reloaded in silence behind him.