Makima pressed a button on a remote in her hand. The illuminated map vanished, replaced instantly by a slideshow—a grim collage of faces and clandestine meetings, surveillance photos taken from awkward angles, images blurry yet unmistakably damning. Grainy black-and-white snapshots depicted influential men in tailored suits shaking hands furtively with shadowy figures hidden behind sunglasses and baseball caps. Each slide bore annotations: names, dates, transactions. There were even excerpts of intercepted messages, displaying the arrogant confidence with which these figures operated.
"We have identified dozens of prominent politicians," Makima continued steadily, her voice carrying the weight of barely-contained disgust, "who have been bought outright by foreign intelligence agencies and domestic crime syndicates." She paused as the next image appeared—a clear, damning shot of a respected parliament member accepting a thick envelope from an identified Russian GRU operative in a secluded café. Another showed a high-ranking prefectural governor sharing a quiet dinner with a notorious yakuza boss known for illegal Pokémon trafficking. "These figures range from local council members to sitting cabinet ministers. The rot runs high and deep."
She clicked again, and an official portrait appeared: a dignified older man with silver hair, gentle eyes behind rimless glasses, the official image used when announcing state funerals. A somber silence settled over the room.
"The former Prime Minister—Hisashi Ikeda—died suddenly three months ago. Officially declared a heart attack," Makima stated, allowing the gravity of the revelation to hang heavily in the air before continuing, her voice hardening with cold fury. "Unofficially, the timing was far too convenient. PM Ikeda was openly opposed to recent security concessions demanded by foreign governments—particularly concerning our national Pokémon research and intelligence-sharing protocols. He became an obstacle they needed removed."
Madoka's sharp, analytical eyes narrowed behind his glasses as he leaned forward slightly. He had spent countless nights at the Japanese Embassy in Washington, sifting through intelligence that hinted at just such sinister machinations. Seeing the confirmation now, his heart beat faster, vindication mingling unpleasantly with dread. Carefully, deliberately, he raised a hand to adjust his glasses and spoke quietly, asking the question that gnawed at him.
"And what about his successor, Prime Minister Tanaka?" Madoka asked, his voice careful but firm. "He stepped down suddenly right after the General-Director defected—was there foul play there as well?"
Makima's amber gaze flicked to Madoka, her lips pressing into a thin line. The room seemed to hold its breath, sensing the heaviness of her impending revelation. "Yes," she replied bluntly, her voice low and tight. "Tanaka-san's resignation was not as voluntary as it seemed. When the General-Director vanished along with the sanctioned black ops team and most of our Pokémon assets, Tanaka became the scapegoat. The cabinet—half compromised themselves—declared his inability to maintain security as gross incompetence. Privately, however, it's widely suspected that blackmail and threats played a role in forcing him out."
She clicked to another slide, revealing Tanaka's resignation press conference—his face pale, eyes hollowed by exhaustion and fear. "He resigned after barely two months. Now we have a third Prime Minister in a single term: PM Takahashi. He's an honest man, as far as we can tell, but politically inexperienced and severely isolated. He took office amidst bribery scandals and threats of internal blackmail. Some of his own party members are actively sabotaging him, colluding with foreign powers and criminal elements to undermine Japan's government from within."
Makima's voice darkened further, carrying deep frustration as she articulated the scale of the political turmoil. "Japan's government has effectively become a revolving door. Three Prime Ministers within one term. Our international reputation has cratered. We've become an object of ridicule—no better than the United Kingdom in recent years. Our closest allies don't trust our stability, our enemies see weakness and are circling like vultures, and every corrupt actor thinks they can buy us off or threaten us into submission."
A tangible wave of anger surged through the gathered agents. Himeno, always composed and poised, clenched her fists so hard her knuckles whitened. Her normally steady voice trembled with barely-suppressed fury. "Those absolute bastards," she hissed under her breath, echoing the sentiment felt deeply by all of them. The thought that their nation's leaders could be bought, blackmailed, or even murdered made her blood run hot. Her hand unconsciously moved to the edge of her black eye patch, fingers tracing the fabric—an old habit born of anxiety and anger. Beside her, Aki's jaw tightened visibly, his own gaze hardening into icy resolve. Denji's fist clenched on the table as he muttered something about wanting to personally throw corrupt politicians through windows.
Makima allowed the tension to simmer for a moment before continuing, her voice becoming even sharper, the quiet fury behind her words unmistakable.
"And it gets worse," she said, her amber eyes piercing the gathered agents with a chilling intensity. "Our enemies aren't satisfied merely toppling governments or manipulating politics. They're accelerating efforts to infiltrate deep into our intelligence networks. Their objective is absolute control—not influence, not espionage, but complete, direct dominion over Japan's entire national security apparatus."
A collective breath seemed to catch around the room. Eyes widened; faces paled. Aki's jaw tightened, Kishibe narrowed his gaze, and even Angel shifted slightly, clearly troubled.
Makima's eyes flicked briefly to Hiroshi, a moment of silent, heavy understanding passing between them. She continued, "They possess inside information—agents embedded within PSIA itself, police departments, even the Self-Defense Forces. Our adversaries have been systematically working to compromise every facet of Japan's security. Every single one of you, except Hiroshi, was compromised at some level. They had full dossiers on your identities, movements, even your psychological profiles. Hiroshi was the only exception due to the extreme security precautions around his recruitment and operations—latex masks, voice modulation, constant disguise shifts. They were essentially setting a trap for every PSIA operative, especially those of us involved in dismantling Ringmaster and acquiring their technology."