In the Marvel Universe: I can summon items from all dimensions.

Chapter 81 Ah~ Gin!

Upon hearing this, the gazes of the others towards Professor Agasa immediately became subtle.

That's true, but those mystical inventions you've brought out from your lab don't seem like things that could appear in the 21st century. Do you scientists have no self-awareness at all?

But such comments are fine to make privately, but saying them to someone's face would be a bit impolite. So after whispering for a while, James stepped forward and asked with concern, "In your opinion, what kind of being is this—?"

"A clearly modified product."

Dr. Agasa answered directly, "Look, its skin has many surgical scars. Although I don't know exactly how it got like this, it at least shows that its abnormal physiological characteristics are due to postnatal modification, not something it was born with. Although my expertise is in engineering and physics, I also have some knowledge of biology. What I can say for sure is that the technology used to modify it is unique and different from any known technological approach."

"What exactly did the organization do?!"

James felt a chill run down his spine, then managed to compose himself and asked the most crucial question—

"In your opinion, what kind of method would be effective against something like this—"

Considering Professor Agasa's civilian status, James hesitated for a moment before continuing, "Cause fatal damage?"

But Dr. Agasa wasn't surprised at all—after all, the old man wasn't a complete shut-in. Before he became an old fat man, he was a renowned figure in the academic world and had heard and seen many things. Human experiments were just a minor incident.

"Although the technology it uses is strange, it is ultimately just a stronger humanoid creature." Dr. Agasa waved his hand. "The handgun bullets are useless because its self-healing ability is excellent, but as long as the caliber is increased, such as by using a slug with a steel core, it can definitely cause effective damage, provided that it does not have any other special abilities."

"Special ability?"

"That's right, like that special corrosive liquid." Dr. Agasa said with a solemn expression, "I just tested it. It's an acid, stronger than concentrated sulfuric acid. Without more detailed research, I can't even understand how that kind of thing can be stored in a living organism."

"Furthermore—if it was manufactured as a weapon, it would obviously not be a single unit, or even more than one model."

At this point, Professor Agasa shook his head: "I never imagined that I would actually see such a monster in my lifetime, one that looks like it crawled out of a horror movie."

Although most of his inventions are even more absurd than those in typical science fiction movies.

After a brief silence, Professor Agasa sighed and said, "In short—you'd better prepare as soon as possible. If there are still a lot of these things, the few bodyguards outside are really not enough. Even for everyone's personal safety, it's time to upgrade our forces."

The FBI agents looked at each other in bewilderment.

While it's not that they lack the ability to deploy more advanced military force—after all, there are over eighty US military bases in Japan, and if they wanted to, they could even send fighter jets over Tokyo—Japan is, after all, a sovereign nation. No matter how unreasonable America's hegemony may be, it's not so exaggerated as to completely disregard international opinion. They can't just let the media come here, take a couple of photos, and say something like "Bio-Cyber ​​Monsters are about to wreak havoc on Japan," and then send a squad of fully armed soldiers in armored vehicles to parade through the streets, can they?

—It seems like it's not impossible to do that.

The FBI agents suddenly realized something terrifying and began to discuss it.

"This definitely doesn't seem like something we agents can handle—should we call Okinawa?" Judy whispered. "I have some connections there; secretly borrowing a few squads of soldiers shouldn't be a problem—"

Andrei scoffed, "Is it really necessary to make such a big deal out of this?!"

"After all, we have to think about our own lives. Our mission objectives don't include fighting bio-engineered humans," James said slowly, stroking his chin. "Anyway, the soldiers in Okinawa have nothing better to do all day. A naval lieutenant commander even told me he envied you guys who see exciting things every day." —Perfect, this is exciting enough. I'll have him bring his men over to see for themselves.

"Ha, I thought this place would most likely be placed under martial law."

Wearing overalls and driving his van, Mason returned once again to the safe house at the brewery on the outskirts of Beika City. It was already close to noon, and the food factory workers had already started work. After looking around outside and finding nothing unusual, Mason carried a toolbox and a ladder inside, and as expected, he was not stopped at all.

So-called high-level infiltration only requires the simplest method—the equipment he is currently wearing allows him to easily enter most poorly guarded places without arousing anyone's suspicion. This is the magic of the electrician's profession.

And so, Mason entered the safe house and began a thorough search.

Bomb? Take it, take it.

Pistols, submachine guns, shotguns, sniper rifles? Whatever, take them all, bullets too!

————————————————————————

Poison didn't matter; Mason only took a few bottles of cyanide, considering them local specialties.

After spending some time loading enough weaponry to arm a platoon to the teeth into the stack storage, Mason felt much more at ease.

While these things may not be comparable to even a hair of the Thor's Pearl, the saying "a gun in hand keeps you calm" applies here; the sense of security that gunpowder and metal can provide is unmatched by anything else.

So, with the shortcomings in attack capabilities somewhat mitigated, the next step is to find a way to improve oneself.

Having suffered numerous injuries, Mason's energy was down to about two-thirds. Although theoretically it would last for a while, Mason was the kind of man who would panic if his phone battery dropped below 90%. While he was never hesitant to sell his blood, it was best to keep his energy at full capacity for a greater sense of security.

The problem is that devices that can emit strong light are not easy to come by. The flashlights commonly found in stores usually only have a few hundred lumens. Although you can buy a good one with 100,000 or 200,000 lumens online, it will take at least a few days. Mason still hopes to find a way to fill up the blue bar immediately.

If you want something convenient—wouldn't it take some time to find a spotlight or something similar? Or would you rather just go to a hospital and get a full-on light treatment?

None of them seem quite right.

Mason paced around the safe house for a while, pondering, before suddenly noticing something in the cabinet that he had left over.

—Flashbang.

Although it doesn't last long, this thing can emit a powerful light with an intensity of up to millions of lumens.

Mason hissed, then pulled a flashbang from the cabinet, ripped off the tab, and threw it at his feet.

Although flashbangs make a lot of noise, the safe house is well soundproofed, so there's no need to worry about the workers upstairs hearing it.

A few seconds later, accompanied by a loud bang, a blinding white light illuminated the entire safe house in an instant.

Mason, who stood still without moving, fell into deep thought.

For an ordinary person, this would at least result in temporary blindness or deafness, but he didn't care much. The bright light had no effect on him, and the damage caused by the shockwave was repaired within a second or two.

To sum it up—flashbangs do provide him with some light energy, although it's nothing compared to the super-fast charging of laser eyes, it's still usable. After deducting the damage from repairing his eardrum and cochlea, a flashbang can charge him about 0.5% of his battery.

It's alright, I guess.

Mason took out all the more than one hundred flashbangs from the cabinet, sat down in a chair, and pulled the rings one by one. After a series of continuous popping sounds like firecrackers, he replenished all the depleted light energy.

So we really need to think outside the box when it comes to developing superpowers. Although it was a bit uncomfortable to have my eardrums ruptured repeatedly, it was nothing compared to the sense of security I felt from being filled with light energy.

However, ever since he discovered the mechanism of this ability, his sense of pain seems to have been gradually weakening. Just a short while ago, jumping out of a car almost made him faint from the pain, but less than a month later, he was able to lie on the ground with his body pierced by bullets and his limbs broken without flinching.

Is it that the body structure is gradually changing as abilities are developed, or is it simply a matter of getting used to it?

He wouldn't cry and shout things like "I'm not human anymore!" In his view, being able to continue being "Mason" was far more important than his human identity, so there was nothing to agonize over. However, he did need to find an opportunity to study himself carefully and see what kind of changes he had undergone.

He stood up, put the unused flashbangs into a box, and then stored the entire box in the stack storage. Although the efficiency of using this thing to charge is very low, it is convenient. Until a better charging method is found, he should stock up on more.

Mason then walked toward the elevator.

Preparations are almost complete; it's time to meet the all-powerful father of the Grim Reaper elementary school student and the utterly useless FBI agents.

But just after he took two steps, the phone in his pocket suddenly rang.

Hmm—who is it?

He took out his phone and saw Conan's phone number.

Why are you contacting me now? Is the interrogation result out? It seems Vermouth is even more disappointing than expected, surrendering so quickly.

Mason answered the phone and greeted him with a smile, "Edogawa? What's up?"

"Konek, that's me."

Vermouth's voice came from the other end of the phone: "Good news and bad news, which do you want to hear first?"

"What?" Mason replied calmly, "Did you manage to kill the Kudo family and the FBI?"

"How could that be? I have already surrendered because I could not bear the humiliation. The three of them are right here watching me."

Vermouth said in a voice that appeared nonchalant on the surface but sounded somewhat melancholic upon closer inspection, "By the way, this is the good news."

"I see, the Kudo family is really something." Mason whistled. "So, what's the bad news?"

"Bad news—heh."

Vermouth suddenly sneered: "After I'm done with my bad luck, it'll be your turn soon."

1

"Hmm?" Mason raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

"Remember those assassins you took down last night?" Vermouth's laughter grew sweeter, but it was clearly intentional. "I heard from my godson that after you took them down, you tied them up and dumped them in some deserted area nearby."

She said the words "godson" through gritted teeth—and if Mason wasn't mistaken, there was also a burst of ambiguous, canned female laughter nearby.

—It seems I know what happened before.

Running away with a bucket to avoid the FBI seems like a bad deal. If I could witness such a rare scene, even being shot for three minutes would be worth the price of admission!

"That's right."

Mason pretended not to understand and said casually, "So, is there a problem?"

"Simply put, I've left myself an extra layer of protection—" Vermouth said. "The one waiting for you on the first floor of the factory is an assassin directly under the organization's command. Before setting off, he swallowed a transmitter. If the transmitter isn't removed and destroyed within a certain period, a cloud server will send an alert to the organization—"

'

Mason: "—I knew this would happen."

At this point, he was too lazy to say anything more and asked directly, "Who's coming?"

"Gin, Binga, even Rum—it all depends on who receives the alert," Vermouth replied. "To avoid exposing my operations, I've set the message transmission method to be random; it's possible that anyone or everyone could receive it."

"Ha, it's surprising that you would honestly confess to something like this."

"Heh, if the rest of the organization sees me in this state, I'm doomed. If you're going to betray someone, you have to betray them completely. I don't want to get shot in the head when I can't walk."

"Yes, that's a reasonable consideration."

Mason sighed. "So? What are you planning to do next?"

After the question was asked, the person on the other end of the phone changed, and Yusaku Kudo's voice came through: "Mr. Mason, it depends on the organization's efforts. If a large number of cyborgs appear, we will have to temporarily flee to the US military base in Okinawa for refuge. If you don't mind, you can come and meet us now."

Oh, so that's the idea you're having.

Mason understood.

To be honest, Yusaku Kudo's proposal was excellent, and if he were just Cognac, he would definitely have gladly accepted.

But cooperating with the FBI is one thing, but if you go directly into a US military base, who knows how many people will be interested in your superpowers? At the very least, you'll be held captive and used as an experimental animal. How will you complete the mission then?

Although I am now considered capable of fighting, it would be too much of a stretch to take the US military stationed in Japan as my opponent.

It seems that the Grim Reaper Elementary School student's ability to summon people was underestimated. In such a short time, he has already summoned foreign heavenly soldiers. He is strong, but it is a bit beyond his control.

Perfect timing! We've just started the side quest to collect the Divine Orbs, so let's leave the Death God Elementary School student alone for now.

After all, Conan is a good person, while his own methods are rather extreme—for example, those three assassins who were tied up in a nearby garbage dump. If it were up to his temper, he would definitely have shot them all to eliminate any future troubles. But Conan only knocked them unconscious and left them aside, planning to contact the police or the FBI to arrest them afterward. While this approach is certainly righteous, it is also very laborious and prone to backfiring.

But if you're going it alone, you don't need to worry about these things; you can just keep killing and killing.

"Hehe, then I'll politely decline."

Mason explicitly rejected Yusaku Kudo's suggestion: "I want to see what other tricks the organization has up its sleeve."

"Mr. Mason————"

Before the other person could finish speaking, Mason hung up the phone.

Of course, the forces gathered at Professor Agasa's house are already terrifying. If they wanted to, they could probably find him directly through street surveillance or phone tapping. After all, this is modern society, and there's no point in hiding unless you run to the deep mountains and forests.

But this is just a matter of attitude. A clean and decisive refusal shows that they don't want to get involved in complicated relationships. If the Kudo family is smart enough, they will only try to monitor their whereabouts without taking any further action.

If they do that—then I'm sorry.

After deciding on his next course of action in a flash, Mason took the elevator out of the safe house and went to the outside of the factory, where he was about to get into his car and leave.

But at that moment, he saw a black luxury car driving towards the factory.

Porsche 365A.

On either side of the car, two motorcycles followed, each carrying Chianti and Cohen, each with a violin case on their backs, and the strange men with cold and indifferent expressions.

Good news: the Black Organization did not deploy its entire force.

The bad news is that Chianti and Cohen, while incompetent in terms of mobility, are snipers with decent professional skills and spotted Mason from half a street away.

Okay, okay, is this how you play?

Mason rolled his eyes and abandoned his idea of ​​getting in the car and leaving.