Chapter 156
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Translator: penny
Chapter: 156
Chapter Title: Revenge on the Detention Center
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"I'll flip the detention center that humiliated me, and everything behind it... the Japanese investigators and the Japanese government..., anyway, all of them."
I hadn't forgotten the humiliation I'd suffered. I still couldn't shake the memory of having my ass spread wide for inspection.
Anger boiled in my head, feeling like another me was about to be born. Right now, my rear humiliation was at 5000%. It was like holding back until the rage exploded.
I picked a flat, solid patch of ground and set up the mortar in a suitable spot.
Thanks to Weapon Mastery Lv.1, operating the mortar felt effortless, as if I'd eaten my fill and handled one for ten years straight.
I checked the barrel, baseplate, bipod, sight, and everything else, preparing meticulously to operate it solo—what normally took three or four people.
I pulled out a map, used a ruler to gauge the direction and distance to the target, and finished all the prep work in advance.
Then, I slowly and leisurely began firing toward the detention center's watchtowers and key defense and security buildings—my targets.
- Boom!
- Boom!
- Boom!
I'd imagined a mortar going off with a 'plop!', but the actual launch sounded just like any shell firing.
- Kaboom!
- Kaboom!
- Kaboom!
From way off in the distance—about 2km away—the sound of mortar rounds hitting and exploding their targets echoed faintly back here.
Even with the Weapon Mastery bonus, operating solo limited me to about 10 rounds per minute.
I could've gone faster if I pushed, but I didn't bother getting greedy—just fired at a relaxed pace.
About 10 minutes like that?
After unleashing 100 rounds on my pre-set targets, I roughly disassembled the 60mm mortar and stowed it in my Subspace Storage.
Then I started walking slowly toward the Tokyo Detention Center.
The closer I got, the more the chaotic atmosphere around me sank in.
Things started feeling good, exhilarating. My shoulders began swaying on their own.
-"This calls for some fun dancing."-
"Oh, Solomon's cock. My old friend, you've returned." -"I've always been with you. You just ignored me lately."-
"Is that so? Well, good to see you again anyway. Since you're here, let's have some fun like old times." -"Yeah. Let's dance. Dance."-
"Sounds good."
I walked while dancing.
Dum chit dum chit. Dum dum chit chit. Doo doo dum chit chit.
It felt just like becoming the Joker from the Batman universe.
Or like that Dark Dance Guy from Google—search 'Spiderman Dark Dance' and that's what pops up.
Joker's staircase dance and Spiderman's dark dance—they had something in common.
The vibe hit me naturally. So I grooved to that signature upbeat, exhilarating dance as I headed toward the detention center.
"Dark dance~♬ Dance~♬"
Dum chit dum chit. Dum dum chit chit.
On the way, just in case, I put on the voice-modulating necktie I'd gotten from the Tower's 5th-floor Hard world.
My goal right now was to hide my identity.
'Who knew I'd use this again like this. Kekeke.'
It was an item I'd thought useless, but it seemed I'd get some solid mileage out of it.
I considered pulling out the flying skateboard for a ride..., but in this chaotic vibe, I wanted to walk while dancing, so I left it.
As I danced along in high spirits, I pulled a fully kitted AKM from my Subspace Storage.
Real rampages like this called for an AK—that's where the flavor was.
The game description even called it 'The assault rifle of comrades for revolution.'
Though my AK was one soaked in capitalism.
4x scope, secondary 45-degree canted sight, compensator, high-cap quick-draw mag.
Since I planned to make a big noise, I skipped the suppressor on purpose.
As I strolled toward the detention center's main gate, the closer I got, the more gunpowder stench and the wrecked facility came into view.
"Bring stretchers! More stretchers, hurry!"
"The shells stopped! Move now!"
"They could start again! We need to find where they're coming from!"
"Everyone, move faster! Have we requested more support from above?! Tell them this is a warzone now!!"
"Aaaagh! Uwaaaah!! Help, save me...!!! My leg...! My leg...!!"
"Sir, please calm down! We'll get you to the hospital soon...!"
The detention center outskirts looked like a battlefield—sirens blaring, ambulances and police cars rushing every which way.
"Hum hum~♬ Hum~♪ Hng~♩ Dance~♬ Dance~♬"
Guess my mortar skills were on point—the hypothetical watchtowers and defense/security buildings I'd targeted were all smashed to bits.
'Shoddy construction..., or maybe mortars are just that strong....'
It'd only been 10 minutes since I started firing, but their response was quicker than expected.
Ilpon worldview perks? Seemed like the Japanese were all competent.
Or nah? In our country, emergency services could probably show up in 10 minutes too.
The main gate was a mess of ambulances, fire trucks, police cars, and all sorts tangled up.
Tons of people hesitated to move amid the ongoing blasts, but now that I'd stopped shelling and things quieted, they rushed to evacuate the wounded.
I approached them slowly, eyeing the scene.
A young woman in a police uniform—rookie vibe—staring at me curiously from the gate, spotted my gun and made an 'Eh..., no way....' face.
A moment later, she actually muttered "Eh..., masaka...." with her mouth agape.
But no real tension in her expression—probably thought it was fake or a toy.
Still, amid the recent commotion and warzone chaos, she looked like she sensed something off.
Makes sense—they wouldn't expect a lunatic strolling in with a real gun right in central Tokyo.
"Dance~♬ Dance~♬ Hm, if her face wasn't so busted, I'd have started by fucking that lady cop first. Those buck teeth wrecked her lower face. With a mask, she'd look pretty. Witch vibe."
She seemed about to approach me to check for sure, but a senior cop-looking guy yelled at her to stop standing around and help with the wounded, startling her into running off.
'Kuhuhu.'
In the chaos, no one stopped me as I sauntered right into the detention center, heading for C Block, Room 15—where I'd been.
Any walls in my way, I blasted through with sticky bombs or C4.
Explosions that should've caused a huge stir, but with the mortar barrage hitting everywhere, they barely registered.
After 100 mortar rounds, blasts just felt routine.
This was quiet in the storm.
Weaving through the maze of barriers designed to prevent escapes, I reached my old cell.
On the way, I shoved my gun in a correctional officer's face, threatened him, and got the keys—reuniting with my cellmate.
"Hey, Fukuda Ren. Like I promised yesterday, I'm here to bust you out."
"...H-Hyung? Big bro? Is that Ota Jun hyung? Your voice...?"
"Modulated it. ...How about that? I kept my promise. Shinjuku full course—look forward to it."
"...No, hyung. For real though, this isn't what I wanted at all.... ...I-I just wanted a defense lawyer... ."
"And from now on, never say my name. Got it? Not in front of others either, or I'll kill you."
"Y-Yes, hyung. Got it. But hyung, I really just wanted a defense lawyer..., haa..., guess it's too late now...."
I knew exactly what Fukuda Ren wanted, of course.
If I'd truly cared about him, I wouldn't have kicked this off.
'I just wanted to rampage...! Who gives a fuck about your life...?!'
I didn't say that.
"You idiot. This Japan's already rotten. You think getting you a lawyer and bail proves your innocence? They say once the prosecutor indicts, it's 99% guilty, right? Once indicted, 99% guilty—and you, detained, think you'll walk free?"
I put on an act like I'd started this mess to save Fukuda Ren.
Snippets I'd overheard from my lawyer helped me spin plausible lines.
As if I had no choice in this trash Japanese reality to save him.
"Y-Yeah, you're right.... Got it. Since it's come to this, I'll follow you forever for going this far for me...!"
'Nah, I just came 'cause I was pissed and horny.... I wanna wreck everything. Chaos for chaos's sake...!'
The reason for this lame act with Fukuda Ren was simple.
I needed him to do 'this action'.
'This action' was as follows.
I handed Fukuda Ren the AKM rifle, four grenades, and two sticky bombs.
Of course, his AKM was a stock model—no attachments at all.
'Rampaging solo versus with a lackey—even if he's useless, group chaos hits harder. Humans are social creatures that thrive in packs.'
Targeting the detention center tied into this too.
It was the shithole that humiliated me, so smashing it flat would purge my stress source..., but also, this place was packed with societal malcontents.
Pre-trial detainees to begin with.
What if I armed all these pissed-off-at-Japan kids and sprung them?
In my book, it'd be hilarious.
'Kekeke. Kukuku.'