Once a mobster, now Masachika Kuze

"Pulling a trigger is easy. Any idiot with a working finger can do it. Hitting the target? A bit more challenging, but still manageable. Now... keeping your mind intact while everything around you screams for your surrender? That, my friend, is what separates predators from sheep."

Ryan stood in the middle of the corridor, his eyes cold and calculating as he removed the magazine from the pistol he had taken from one of the guards. He counted the bullets: five in the magazine, one in the chamber. Six chances. The sharp sound of the alarm continued to echo through the halls, accompanied by the rapid approach of footsteps and shouted orders.

Taking a deep breath, he slid the magazine back into place, chambering a round with a fluid, precise motion. He held the pistol like a seasoned soldier, his voice calm and almost apathetic as he spoke toward the door from which the last two guards had emerged.

"The mission will be completed."

Without hesitation, Ryan shoved the door open with his shoulder, pistol already raised and aimed. On the other side, a soldier ran toward him, eyes wide with surprise. Ryan's finger pressed the trigger with the precision of a watchmaker. The gunshot was sharp and direct, and the soldier crumpled like a rag doll, a red hole marking the center of his forehead.

Ryan wasted no time admiring his handiwork. Moving swiftly, he crouched by the nearest doorframe, using it as cover. It wasn't long before a flashlight mounted on a rifle illuminated the corridor. A firm, authoritative voice followed:

"Come out now with your hands where I can see them! You're completely—"

The warning was cut off by another gunshot. Ryan raised the pistol above the frame and fired blindly, the bullet piercing the skull of the man who had spoken. The body toppled backward, dragging the rifle it held to the ground.

Before the echo of the shot could fade, another soldier beside the fallen man opened fire on the doorframe. Bullets ricocheted off walls and floors, shattering bits of concrete and sending a fine dust into the air.

Ryan had anticipated this. He dove sideways, sliding across the floor with an almost inhuman agility. His pistol fired once mid-slide, the bullet striking the second soldier squarely in the forehead. The man fell backward, his fingers still squeezing the trigger, the sound of sporadic gunfire filling the corridor as his hat flew off from the impact.

Before silence could settle, a voice crackled from the cell phone in Ryan's pocket, dripping with sarcasm and boredom.

"Now would be that moment when you just won't shut the fuck up and start philosophizing, but it seems like you're busy shooting. I hope you don't die, because I hate repeating things."

Ryan didn't respond immediately. He stepped over the bodies sprawled on the floor, blood pooling and staining the pristine white tiles with deep crimson streaks. Passing the laboratories, his sharp eyes scanned the scattered notes on desks and whiteboards, each movement deliberate, like a predator stalking prey.

The quiet was broken by a raspy voice coming from a radio attached to one of the fallen men's vests.

"Soldier, report from the platoon!"

Ryan approached, nudging the body with his foot to search its pockets. He found the soldier's ID: "Tomeo Sato." Smirking faintly, he picked up the radio, pressing the transmit button as he replied in a dry tone:

"Tomeo Sato here. The target is within the hospital perimeter."

A pause followed, then a response tinged with suspicion:

"The Queen has already been evacuated. A patrol is being sent to locate Dr. Irie."

Ryan pressed the button again, his eyes narrowing as his smirk darkened.

"What's the extraction area?"

The radio went silent for a few seconds before the voice returned, now sharper and more distrustful.

"Soldier, identify yourself!"

Ryan's smirk widened into a mocking grin.

"Unidentified operative soldier."

Before they could respond, he crushed the radio in his hands, letting the fragments fall to the ground as he continued down the main corridor. His icy gaze swept over each door and passageway, ready for any surprises.

He eventually reached a room with a large reinforced glass window. Behind it, a man in a white lab coat stood frozen, clearly shaken. His blond hair was disheveled, and his green eyes locked onto Ryan with a mix of fear and determination. Beside him, a gurney held an unconscious blond youth, while an oversized teddy bear rested on a nearby shelf.

Ryan tapped lightly on the glass, like someone trying to get a distracted friend's attention. His smirk grew more sardonic as he murmured,

"That must be Dr. Irie..."

The doctor raised a hand to his communicator, speaking into it while covering his mouth to prevent Ryan from reading his lips. Ryan tilted his head, his grin widening as he muttered to himself,

"Important, huh? Or maybe not as important as this Queen..."

He raised the pistol and fired at the glass. The impact was loud, but the bulletproof window held firm. Unbothered, Ryan fired twice more, the sound reverberating in the room.

Yuno's voice came through the phone again, impatient this time.

"Want me to come over? I'm running out of patience with your stalling."

"Stay Still, yuno. I don't need you right now," Ryan replied dryly, tossing aside the now-empty pistol. He walked to one of the fallen bodies and retrieved a Type 89 rifle. Inspecting it briefly, he grinned with satisfaction.

"Howa Type 89... Cute. This'll do."

With his new weapon, he aimed at the glass and unleashed a focused burst. Cracks spiderwebbed across the surface until it finally gave way. Dropping the rifle, Ryan strode through the shattered remains with a smile on his face.

The doctor backed against the wall, pale and terrified, speaking frantically into his communicator:

"He's in! He made it in!"

Ryan grabbed the man's hands, immobilizing him. His eyes gleamed with dark malice as he whispered,

"Hello, Doctor. I had an appointment. You must be the famous Dr. Irie, right?"

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