[ We haven’t made any progress with video analysis.
Hey. Enomoto, you look - ….. shit.
Enomoto, have you slept? Eaten? It’s been days, man, just—
Give it up, Enomoto, those guys are probably already dead.
If it’s really Adonis, then we’re probably too late.
Their words echo through your ears as you approach an abandoned warehouse. You hear the apathy in their voices, the mocking. They’ve already given up on ever finding their missing comrades. But you don’t listen. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t stop looking until -
Until the smell of blood hits you as soon as you throw open the door.
The room spills out in front of you. Slumped against the wall, there is one man.
The one you’ve been looking for.
You barely recall protocol - you call your superior, you give an address and nothing more - and you approach the man you admired. Yuuta Fuji. Your idol left to rot in the outskirts of Shinjuku five days after he was killed on video.
You’ve never felt hatred like this before. You’ve never wanted someone dead before. The job is dangerous and sometimes people get hurt but you’ve always been willing to be the person to put your neck on the line for somebody else, even a stranger.
Right now, face to face with the bloody corpse of someone you treasured, all you want is to hurt somebody else the way that you’re hurting now. To take their greatest source of admiration and shoot it down.
A voice (25:18 - 26:14) cuts through after you’ve been standing there for who knows how long. He gives you orders. You know you have to follow them. Set up a perimeter, gather evidence, solve the case like you’ve solved so many before. This is your job.
But as one tear rolls down your cheek without permission, you know something else -
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Hey. Enomoto, you look - ….. shit.
Enomoto, have you slept? Eaten? It’s been days, man, just—
Give it up, Enomoto, those guys are probably already dead.
If it’s really Adonis, then we’re probably too late.
Their words echo through your ears as you approach an abandoned warehouse. You hear the apathy in their voices, the mocking. They’ve already given up on ever finding their missing comrades. But you don’t listen. You don’t eat, you don’t sleep, you don’t stop looking until -
Until the smell of blood hits you as soon as you throw open the door.
The room spills out in front of you. Slumped against the wall, there is one man.
The one you’ve been looking for.
You barely recall protocol - you call your superior, you give an address and nothing more - and you approach the man you admired. Yuuta Fuji. Your idol left to rot in the outskirts of Shinjuku five days after he was killed on video.
You’ve never felt hatred like this before. You’ve never wanted someone dead before. The job is dangerous and sometimes people get hurt but you’ve always been willing to be the person to put your neck on the line for somebody else, even a stranger.
Right now, face to face with the bloody corpse of someone you treasured, all you want is to hurt somebody else the way that you’re hurting now. To take their greatest source of admiration and shoot it down.
A voice (25:18 - 26:14) cuts through after you’ve been standing there for who knows how long. He gives you orders. You know you have to follow them. Set up a perimeter, gather evidence, solve the case like you’ve solved so many before. This is your job.
But as one tear rolls down your cheek without permission, you know something else -
This is personal. ]