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

Chapter 82 So this isn't Detective Conan, it's GTA!

With this duo of Shuke and Beta by his side, and driving a Porsche 365A, who else could it be but Gin?

Why did you have to come just when I was planning to leave?

Why don't you ever time your moves so perfectly in animations, you bastard!

Mason sighed and stood there leaning against the car door. Gin's convoy pulled up beside him, and a group of people stopped around him.

As expected, Vodka and Gin were sitting in the driver's and passenger's seats respectively—but unexpectedly, there were two black men with deadpan expressions sitting in the back seat. In addition to the two people that Chianti and Cohen had with them in the back seat, Mason couldn't help but feel a little pressured.

These look like the same type of cyborg Vermouth brought—silent and with faces as stiff as corpses. And there are four of them; if they all swarm at me, I'm probably no match for them.

"Konek?"

Gin walked up, a cigarette dangling from his lips, and asked in a cold tone, "What are you doing here?"

"I saw the distress signal and came over to check it out."

Mason returned the same dismissive look, coldly stating, "I just checked everything, and there are no problems in the factory area or the safe house."

"Oh?"

Gin frowned slightly: "Where's the signal source?"

"I don't know, it's probably already been extinguished." Mason curled his lip. "I came in a hurry and didn't bring much investigative equipment. If you have any leads, please feel free to contact me."

"Ha, you, who's always following Vermouth around like a shadow, actually have the nerve to meddle in this kind of thing?"

Chianti said in a provocative tone, "That sounds a bit fake."

"What I want to do is none of your business," Mason sneered, retorting directly. "You two are both inferior to me in terms of performance and position, yet you dare to point fingers at me?"

"You fucking bastard—!"

Chianti immediately flew into a rage, rushing forward as if he were about to draw his gun and kill Mason on the spot.

That's exactly what Mason wanted to achieve.

According to Cognac's diary, as a member of the organization, he was indeed a bit more sophisticated than Chianti and Cohen. Given the brewery's corporate culture that the strong should ruthlessly humiliate the weak, it was perfectly normal for him to show contempt for them.

The key is confidence. In the current situation, appearing confident will make Gin and the others feel that they are fine.

"stop."

Gin glanced at Chianti: "This is a public place, what are you doing?"

"Of course, it's to let this bastard know that some things can't be said."

"I told you to stop, didn't you hear me?"

Gin stared coldly at Chianti for a few seconds, and the latter unconsciously swallowed, then gritted his teeth and retreated.

Gin then looked at Mason and continued in a cold voice, "Konek, tell me about your investigation."

Tsk—things are getting complicated.

Mason gritted his teeth inwardly, then put his storytelling skills to use. Based on Gin's request, he fabricated an investigation process, mainly to express that no problems were found and that they could investigate for themselves if they didn't believe him.

Once Gin and his crew start their operation, I can find a chance to slip away—but the question is, can this hastily fabricated lie really fool Gin?

After listening, Gin didn't say anything. Instead, after thinking for a moment, he waved to one of the black men behind him and called him over. Then he said to Mason, "Recently, there have been too many moles in the organization. Just to be on the safe side, you can take a lie detector test. Just hold this guy's hand and say that you are not lying."

Mason: "?"

What is a human lie detector?

He looked at the black man who walked up to him with a stiff expression and fell into deep thought for a moment.

Is this some kind of ploy? Are they trying to put pressure on me to see if I'm suspected of betraying them?

"What's going on?" Mason frowned, his face showing displeasure. "You suspect I'm lying?"

"We'll find out once we take the test." Gin's eyes gradually sharpened. "What, are you afraid?"

Mason:

—

If it doesn't look like a bluff, then that's a bit troublesome.

Although I am fairly good at lying, I am not at the level where I can easily fool a lie detector, let alone a human lie detector whose operating mechanism is unknown.

If this black man's physical abilities are as strong as the young cyborg who looked to be from Southeast Asia, then once he gets into a handshake position, it will be very difficult for him to escape.

In other words, there is only one answer.

"OK."

Mason's expression revealed no flaws. He stepped forward, using the swinging motion of his arm to hide his right hand behind his back, and then without hesitation took out the flashbang that he had just stored in his bracelet. In an instant, he went from still to moving, all the muscles in his body exerting force, and in a flash, he pulled off the flashbang's pull ring, then threw it in front of him with a backhand.

Gin: "!!"

He reacted with lightning speed, and with just a glance out of the corner of his eye, he knew exactly what Mason had thrown.

So he immediately took a step back and hid his body behind the tall, black man.

Chianti and Cohen, two assassins extremely familiar with weaponry, were only a beat slower than Gin, raising their hands to cover their eyes as their expressions changed drastically.

One of them, vodka, was completely stunned until the flashbang exploded.

With a deafening roar, Mason, completely unaffected by the flash, quickly retreated, simultaneously drawing his pistol from his waist and firing a barrage of shots at the people from the distillery. It wasn't that he didn't want to use the Thor's Orb, but rather that the thing was in his pouch, and considering the time it took to zip it up and cast the spell, the wind-up was too long.

Mason's marksmanship wasn't great, but at such close range, he still had some accuracy—three shots hit the black man in front of Gin, one shot hit Vodka in the chest, one shot hit Cohen in the arm, and the rest missed.

Without time to confirm the outcome, he turned and dashed toward the bread cart. Although only Vodka was affected by the flash, the rest of the men would be deaf for at least ten seconds. If they wanted to run, they had to do it now.

That is, assuming those four zombie faces don't attack immediately.

Mason moved quickly, reaching the car door handle in less than a second. But just as he opened the door and was about to jump in, the two zombie-faced men who had come with Chianti Cohen suddenly turned their gazes toward him.

It seems these two gentlemen aren't immune to flashbangs either.

"broken----"

Sure enough, some things shouldn't be said carelessly. Why throw out a flag for no reason? This looks like things are going to get messed up now.

Mason's bad premonition arose as quickly as the two zombie-faced men drew their guns. In the blink of an eye, the two men pulled two pistols from the side seats of the motorcycle and fired them at Mason without any hesitation.

However, with Chianti and Cohen between them and Mason, their accuracy was bound to suffer if they tried to avoid the latter's shots. So, despite their fast firing speed, after a round of fire, Mason was only hit once in the arm, while the rest of the shots hit the bread truck and the surrounding open ground.

But there was another piece of bad news: one of the tires was shot out.

Gan.

Mason took off running without hesitation.

God knows what other surprising unique skills these guys have. If it's just shooting and punching, that's fine; I've just fully charged up, so I can heal easily. But if they have skills that can control and stun, like that bastard who sprayed corrosive liquid before, then things will get complicated.

After all, you can't fight city hall, and strength isn't your strength. If you get controlled and then swarmed and pinned down, you're doomed.

As he ran, Mason rummaged through the stack storage, stuffing two of the flashbangs that were blocking the outside into his body, throwing away the rest, before finally finding a shotgun and a submachine gun. Then he slung the air gun over his left index finger and fled toward cover.

"Half of the men chase after him, don't let him escape!"

Amidst the deafening noise, Gin instinctively gave the order, and as soon as he finished speaking, a black man and a gunman rushed off in the direction Mason had fled.

A few seconds later, Gin, who had recovered slightly, looked at the others. Although Vodka had been shot in the chest, he was wearing a bulletproof vest, so he was not seriously injured. On the other hand, Cohen, who had been shot in the arm, was kneeling on the ground, his entire sleeve stained red.

"Bandage him up," Gin instructed the black man who had also been shot in the chest but showed no signs of distress, then looked at Chianti: "Prepare to snipe."

Still somewhat dizzy, Chianti clicked her tongue and shakily took off the violin case from her back.

He took out a sniper rifle from inside, cursing under his breath.

"Damn it! Damn it! You bastard! I'll smash your head into mincemeat!!!"

Some people might wonder why they're suddenly brandishing guns in public—that's just the confidence of the distillery employees. What secret operation? It's just something to play around with. When it really comes down to it, shooting down an amusement park or Tokyo Tower with machine guns is a piece of cake.

With this kind of behavior, heaven knows how much money Karasuma Renya spends every year cleaning up the messes of his employees.

However, just as Chiantimo was getting ready to make his move, a series of explosions suddenly rang out in the distance.

"Your reaction time is way too fast, bro!"

After running about a hundred meters, Mason looked back and saw a black man and a yellow man chasing him like madmen. The latter was holding a pistol in each hand, charging and firing at the same time, and his accuracy was amazing. In such violent shaking, he actually hit Mason in the back and thigh before the first magazine was empty.

The black man didn't draw his gun, but judging from his height of over two meters, he was probably a close-combat fighter.

But regardless of ranged or melee combat, these two are clearly faster than Mason. If they continue...

If they try to escape, they'll definitely be caught up in no time.

Then the only option left is to fight back.

In the next instant, Mason slightly changed direction to avoid stray bullets entering the factory area and causing innocent workers to die on the spot, and then pulled the trigger of the submachine gun without hesitation.

Sixty bullets were fired in the blink of an eye, with a hit rate that could only be described as touching; in any case, it did not stop the two pursuers at all.

It doesn't matter; I never expected to repel them with just one round of shooting anyway.

Mason tossed the submachine gun aside, then grabbed two defensive grenades from the stack storage, pulled off the pins, and threw them without much aiming.

As the saying goes, poverty leads to precision strikes, while wealth leads to overwhelming firepower. The amount of ammunition currently stored in the stack storage is enough for Mason to use up for an hour without running out, so why be stingy? Just go all out and blast them to smithereens!

In just three or four seconds, Mason repeated the above actions, throwing more than a dozen grenades in one go—it doesn't matter if one or two miss, but if there are more than a dozen, the flying fragments will be enough to form a deadly net, turning any large object in the range into a sieve!

As a result, the two cyborgs who charged straight forward without making any evasive maneuvers were immediately riddled with holes by shrapnel from the grenade. The black man was even blown in the head on the spot, his head snapping back and almost falling to the ground.

Isn't this the opportunity to showcase your talents?

Mason's eyes narrowed, and he immediately abandoned his escape attempt. Instead, he began rummaging through his storage device. He took out a pistol and a submachine gun, which were not very effective at sniping, and threw them aside. As he charged forward, he changed his equipment, and finally, just before the two cyborgs got close, he pulled out a shotgun loaded with slugs.

The best defense is offense. Instead of running around worrying about being caught, it's better to take these two down now.

"Bang, bang, bang."

Mason raised his hand and fired three shots at the black man with his air gun. The huge impact sent the man flying backward. It was hard to say how much damage he caused, but he certainly couldn't pounce on him immediately.

This slight pause gave the cyborg with the gun an immediate opportunity to fire three shots at Mason. Two shots hit his torso, and one shot went straight to his head. But Mason didn't even pause for a moment before rushing over and firing an air shot at him.

boom!

The cyborg flew backwards.

Mason took several large strides to catch up, raised his shotgun, and fired a burst of bullets at the guy. This caliber of bullet could directly blow a person's head into a bloody mist, and even an elephant would be killed with one shot. There was no reason why a cyborg could stop him.

Instantly, Mason blasted the cyborg's arm, right abdomen, and left shoulder to pieces. After getting close enough, he adjusted his aim and blasted the cyborg's head, which was trying to get up, into a pile of fragments.

Now, it finally fell down cleanly and neatly.

Mason immediately changed direction, pulling out the Thor's Orb while rushing towards the black man. The latter's movements were also incredibly fast; after being knocked away, he only took less than a second to get up and continue to pounce on Mason with numb and stiff movements.

"Try this."

However, Mason was one step ahead. After taking out the Thor's Orb, he immediately swung it forward, and a golden bolt of lightning shot out, striking the black man in the blink of an eye. It blew his neatly combed dreadlocks into a bird's nest shape. As for whether he was charred—due to his skin color, it was impossible to tell.

However, the effect is immediate.

After being electrocuted, the black man collapsed to the ground, convulsing, as if a power-off button had been pressed.

"Wow, that's amazing?"

Before Mason could even sigh, he abruptly stopped and blasted the black man's head off with a single shot.

Although we don't know if these two can spray venom or have some other unique skill, as long as we kill them all before they use those methods, we won't have to worry about them anymore.

After taking down two people, Mason didn't immediately turn back to wipe out Gin and his men. Instead, he knew when to stop and ran away without a moment's hesitation.

He crossed the somewhat desolate factory area, climbed over several walls, and rushed directly onto the main road.

The good news was that as he arrived, a car was driving towards him.

Looks like I need to do something like GTA.

Mason strode forward and blocked the vehicle's path. The driver was shocked and immediately slammed on the brakes, bringing the car to a stop just a few meters in front of Mason, nearly causing it to overturn.

"Are you fucking looking for—"

However, before the driver could even utter a curse, he saw Mason pull out a pistol from his waist and fire a blank shot at the ground.

"Open the door, or the next shot will hit you on the head."

"!!!!!"

The driver reacted with astonishing speed, seamlessly switching from exasperation to trembling in two seconds, and opened the car door.

Mason got into the car, pulled out a wad of Japanese yen he hadn't yet spent from his pocket, slapped it at the driver, and then, pointing his gun, said, "Drive! Hurry up!"

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