Volume 15, Prologue: The finest lead bullet for you my dear. Management.

Volume 15, Prologue: The finest lead bullet for you my dear. Management.

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There were blind spots.

For example, the janitor closet of a large department store.

The department store staff thought that it was being used by outside janitors, and the janitor staff thought that it was being used by department store staff. Since it was off-limits to customers, no security cameras were installed, and nobody had their eyes on it. As a result, nobody entered it even when everybody knew about it, turning it into a room which even the key-holders didn't enter.

An iron door normally kept it closed.

But today was different.

Tsuchimikado Motoharu used a previously obtained key, and opened one such door located in a corner. Inside, the interior design was like that of a small bar.

In front of him was a large sofa that could seat more than ten; beside it was a long, small table. Further in was something like a bar counter. It was plain clear that the world changed past that door.

"Welcome,"

Upon spotting Tsuchimikado come in, a cheerful man's voice flowed from within.

Standing opposite the counter was a man even shorter than Tsuchimikado, probably a college student. Matching his frivolous looks, his attire was some type of brand-name suit. With no necktie, three of the shirt's buttons were unfastened, which revealed his chest.

With four or five mobile phones swinging from his neck, the man's popular name was Management.

As he leaned onto the counter with his elbow, he said, "Oh, my bad, my bad. Showing a light side is part of the service industry; this is to create a mood where we can speak easily. I'll cease it if it offends you, how about it?"

"Nah, this will do."

As Tsuchimikado said that, Management broadly smiled.

Tsuchimikado threw the key he carried, and Management caught it with one hand. And with the business over, Management moved out the furniture, changing into other concerns.

"Well, then, I wonder what kind of stuff you're looking for. Today, the excellent sensor busters for unlocking are a bargain. Shit is bad for those in for money laundering. As usual, we're at a shortage due to the new regulations that came in after the September 30th incident. For the rest, it's business as usual."

Several people were involved in robberies and thefts.

In such cases, there was a division of roles like transporters, lock picking, breaking-in, and money laundering, but amongst them, the problem of "They wanna rob, but they're short on hands" came up.

Management was the person who supplied the necessary manpower and earned referral fees from doing so.

"Even so, it's the net or email nowadays; people like you making a direct visit is rare."

"Is what I've done bad?"

"Nah. There's no risk for this time. Ah, yes, you want a drink?"

Tsuchimikado scanned the shelf behind Management. Upon seeing massive cans, he slightly frowned.

"I'm not into drinking paint thinners."

"Don't misunderstand me. Those solvents are for wiping off oil-based inks; important stuff for business like this. The alcohol's inside the ref. And it's the really good stuff that's gathered inside."

"Either way, I'll pass."

Even as Tsuchimikado declined, Management's complexion didn't especially change.

"No time to be both tense and drunk, eh. Oh, well, that's to be expected for such work. Let's continue with the business. What item do you want?"

"Sorry. I'm not looking for items, either."

"?"

Tsuchimikado easily said that to a puzzled Management.

"I'm not here as a customer. I'm here as a catcher."

Management was agape for only a moment.

However, when he saw Tsuchimikado draw his pistol from his belt, he immediately dove for cover behind the counter.

Tsuchimikado unconcernedly pulled the trigger.

Successive *BAM!BAM!BAM!* gunshots echoed. Punching holes into the paint thinner cans on the shelf behind the counter, a disagreeable smell immediately filled the room.

(That bastard...!?)

Management, remaining hidden, reached for the bulletproof jacket and submachine gun hidden behind the counter.

As soon as he inserted a magazine and pulled on the slide to load the bullets, Tsuchimikado's gunshots suddenly stopped. Management raised up his head to ascertain the situation.

(Is he out of bullets?)

A thinner-stained Management thought that, but he immediately got a different answer.

The scratching of an oil lighter.

"!!?"

Management's throat dried up.

Before he could say anything, Tsuchimikado threw the lit oil lighter onto the counter.

Management had no time to think about anything. Chucking off his bulletproof jacket and submachine gun, he jumped out from within the thinner-filled counter.

The oil lighter fell onto the thinner puddle, and a *VOOM!* explosive flame rolled up.

Management, having barely escaped it, noticed that the handgun was jammed right into him.

He raised his hands up, and loudly said, "WAIT, WAIT! I GOT IT, I GOT IT! I SURRENDER—"

Tsuchimikado absentmindedly pulled the trigger.

Along with a *BAM!* discharging sound, Management frighteningly looked at his own side.

There, a dark red hole had opened up.

"Y-you, bitch. I told you I surrender..."

Trying to say something, Management collapsed onto the floor.

Tsuchimikado, with no particular change in expression, first checked if Management was breathing, then brought out his mobile phone.

Punching in a registered number, he curtly reported to the answering party.

"Time for collection."

The person on the phone said something back.

Tsuchimikado continued to reply.

"After this, I'll look for his address and check out various stuff. Get in touch with the grunt groups. No, not an ambulance, a paddy wagon will do. I'll look for info based on the registered address, and Accelerator is... gone?"

​

Tsuchimikado clicked his tongue.

"I see; he's doing stuff over there right now, eh. Can't be helped, then. You're going out, Unabara. And take over for Musujime as backup. See you then."

Tsuchimikado hung up his mobile phone.

Tsuchimikado Motoharu, Accelerator, Unabara Mitsuki, and Musujime Awaki.

Those four were designated GROUP.

A small group that existed in the underworld, working to defend the mainstream society.