On the other side, Fujisawa moved swiftly and silently. His skilled hands pressed C4 charges against rows of large wooden crates stacked at the edge of the airstrip. He knew exactly what was inside—killer robots for the client, next‑gen lethal machines yet to be deployed. He set the timers with precision: five seconds to blast, just enough to flee, enough to obliterate.
Just as he secured the final detonator wire, footsteps echoed from the left. Many—too many to ignore.
Fujisawa rose slowly and spun around. His gaze swept the horizon—and his heart pounded as dozens of armed soldiers closed in on him from all directions. Among them, stepped forward the man he knew best: David. The bald figure advanced unarmed, yet his frozen aura felt like time stood still.
"Well… this is an unexpected reunion, David," Fujisawa said flatly, his voice heavy with long‑suppressed bitterness.
