Are You Guys Even Professional?

"So this is your evacuation plan?"

Lin Yang felt dazed, as if his brain had short-circuited.

The Eagle Eye, on perimeter duty, had spotted something amiss, rendering their prepared vehicles unusable. The four-man team had no choice but to pile into Lin Yang's delivery van—the Wuling Hongguang—since they were already in deep together. Giving them a ride seemed harmless enough. But hearing their actual evacuation plan—flying straight out—left Lin Yang utterly bewildered.

Four burly men in combat gear, armed with pistols, submachine guns, assault rifles, and even grenades, had just gone on a rampage through the Edogawa Ward of Tokyo, Japan. They'd mowed down nineteen people before vanishing into thin air, their gunfire ringing out like New Year's firecrackers. And now they wanted to waltz onto a plane? What kind of international joke was this?

"Relax, no issues there," Steering Wheel waved a hand, as if explaining the obvious. "The ones who just arrived aren't from the Tokyo Metropolitan Police—they're backed by the gang these guys answer to. Bet they called for backup from their underground hideout the second things went south. We trashed all the surveillance. By the time they track us down, we'll already be touching down in LA."

He sounded supremely confident.

"What about the Tokyo police? This is a major crime. Won't they seal off the airports?" Lin Yang couldn't fathom their audacity. If they were caught at the airport, there'd be no escape—and if they fell, he'd go down with them.

"Relax. Those guys won't let the police meddle too much. Even if the cops step in, they'll take at least half an hour to cordon off the scene, then hours more to file reports. By the time they start tracking us, we'll be home in bed."

Lin Yang still felt uneasy. This was his first time pulling something like this; the sense of impending doom clung to him like a shadow.

"No need to stress. You know the cops will do ballistic analysis—they'll figure out our firepower. The dead are just gang lackeys, not big names. They'll probably spin it as 'gang infighting' to the public anyway. For fifty grand a month, why would they risk their necks chasing us?" Wolf spoke loosely, relaxed as ever. Clearly, this wasn't their first rodeo.

Lin Yang forced himself to calm down. If these pros thought it was safe, he shouldn't overthink. They were flying out—he'd sail.

Having lived in Japan for years, he'd rubbed shoulders with local Chinese gangs. He had a connection with a minor leader of the Fuqing Gang; he'd pay the guy to arrange a boat, slip out under cover of night.

"Alright, I'm here. You guys handle the rest."

Lin Yang's house was on the way to the airport anyway. The van was a lost cause—they didn't have time to ditch it properly, so he left it for Steering Wheel and the crew to drive straight to the airport. He needed to rush home, pack, and make his own escape plans. Maybe, if he got lucky, he'd secure a boat before they even boarded their flight.

"Thanks. Hurry up and find an exit route. Nice place, too bad we can't stick around."

Wolf clambered from the back seat to the driver's side, rolled down the window, and waved.

"Hey, it's rented. Safe travels."

Lin Yang smiled. It was just a suburban villa he'd leased, not bought.

Wolf chuckled, hit the gas, and sped off.

ID, passport, bank cards, cash—Lin Yang scrambled to pack. Clothes and shoes? Left behind. A lightweight escape. His high-end gaming PC and laptop? He hesitated, then left them. Pots and pans? Gone. A power bank, some dry rations, and water—all stuffed into a small backpack.

Next step: figuring out how to leave.

He scrolled through his phone contacts, found the number, and dialed.

"Hey, Brother Hua, it's me, Xiao Yang."

"Oh, Xiao Yang. What's up?"

"Brother Hua, I've got trouble. Need to get back to my hometown ASAP. Can you hook me up with a boat?"

The call connected quickly. Huang Tianhua, his contact in the Fuqing Gang—a mid-level enforcer handling logistics—sounded unfazed. He'd seen it all: stowaways hunting for black-market jobs, criminals fleeing Japan, snakeheads from Southeast Asia. He snapped his fingers, and a subordinate leaned in.

"Xiao Yang, we're all overseas Chinese. Making a living's tough. I don't need to know the details. There's a boat to Thailand leaving Zhuzhi Wharf at 9 PM. Mention my name. Fifty grand cash—money in hand, you sail."

Fifty grand? Robbery at gunpoint. Lin Yang winced, but didn't hesitate. Life was worth more than money.

"Brother Hua, can you get me a new phone and SIM card too?"

"No problem. Add ten grand."

"Thanks, Brother Hua."

Lin Yang exhaled. As long as he could escape, money was no object. His current phone was a liability—if the cops traced it, he'd be done for. Needed to cover all bases.

Staying home till nightfall to reach the wharf was risky. He needed a hiding spot.

His neighborhood was remote, with sparse surveillance. Finding a place to lie low for half a day shouldn't be hard.

"Knock knock knock!"

Sudden banging jolted Lin Yang upright. Had the Tokyo police found him? They said they wouldn't be this fast… Or was it the Inagawa-kai? That made more sense—criminals moved faster than cops. They didn't need proof, just suspicion.

He didn't open the door immediately. Grabbed a cleaver from the kitchen, then crept to the peephole.

It was Steering Wheel and the crew.

What the hell? They were supposed to be on a plane. Did they get cold feet and come to silence him? But they were in civilian clothes—something must've changed.

After a mental tug-of-war, Lin Yang cracked the door.

"What's going on?"

"Fuck the airlines!" Wolf snapped. "Fuck this weird weather!"

Steering Wheel shrugged. "Something's wrong. Weather anomaly delayed our flight—at least four hours. At least!"

Lin Yang massaged his temples. Of all the luck.

In civilian clothes, Steering Wheel looked like any ordinary 30- or 40-something Western guy, plopping unapologetically onto Lin Yang's couch. Wolf and Harvester—both muscle-bound—couldn't hide their bulk; their necks bulged with sinew. They helped themselves to the fridge, popping open beers. The only difference: Wolf was shorter, paler; Eagle Eye was a quiet, lanky type.

"You didn't prepare backup routes?" Lin Yang couldn't believe it. The pros were stuck, while he'd been ready to go.

"No. Got your route sorted? Can we use it?"

"I'll check."

Lin Yang sighed. If they couldn't leave, his solo escape was pointless—the video would ruin him, and he'd never see home again.

Huang Tianhua, though, was thrilled. He didn't care how many people—cash was cash. With confirmation, Lin Yang relaxed. At least that hurdle was cleared.