Trace

Inspector Nakamura's lead had taken them to an abandoned warehouse on the outskirts of the city. The building was dark and crumbling, its windows shattered and its walls covered in graffiti. It was the perfect place for someone like Ryohta to hide.

The police had set up a perimeter around the warehouse, their movements careful and deliberate. They knew Ryohta was dangerous, and they weren't taking any chances. Inspector Nakamura stood at the edge of the perimeter, his eyes fixed on the building.

"We've got him surrounded," he said, his voice low and tense. "But we need to be careful. He's armed, and he's desperate."

Inside the warehouse, Ryohta moved through the shadows, his eyes gleaming in the dim light. He had known the police would find him eventually, but he wasn't going down without a fight. He had spent years planning, years preparing for this moment. He wasn't going to let them take him.

As the police moved in, Ryohta set his plan into motion. He had rigged the warehouse with traps, his knowledge of explosives and mechanics serving him well. The first explosion rocked the building, sending debris flying and the police scrambling for cover.

Inspector Nakamura cursed under his breath as he radioed for backup. "We need to move carefully," he said, his voice sharp. "He's got the place rigged."

As the police regrouped, Ryohta made his move. He slipped out of the warehouse through a hidden exit, his movements silent and precise. He had one goal: Aika.