Zongman: Becoming Prime Minister in the Conan Universe

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Akai Shuichi and Jodie now stood alongside the American police officers. They had personally witnessed the scene where Fujiwara Toru instantly shredded twelve people into minced meat with two machine guns. At this moment, no one dared to act rashly.
The ground covered in minced meat even {N•o•v•e•l•i•g•h•t} made the American police officers turn pale, and some couldn't help but vomit.

The brutality of the battlefield and ordinary gunfights were completely different concepts.
Jodie stared at the Porsche 911 two hundred meters away and cursed, "The people in that car couldn't be CIA, could they? Only they are so daring!"
As an intelligence organization reporting only to the president, the CIA was notorious, mainly because this group had immense power, and other departments couldn't do anything about them.

And in order to complete their missions, the CIA's actions never cared about the law, and their deeds were outrageous.
Especially seeing a Porsche 911 equipped with two machine guns – this kind of agent-style technology was only consistently used by the CIA.
Akai Shuichi, who was next to Jodie and on the phone, put down his cell phone and said helplessly to Jodie, "The people we were asked to support are indeed from the CIA."

"But judging from the current situation, we don't need to provide support anymore."
Jodie didn't want to deal with CIA personnel. She asked, "Since they don't need our support, should we leave now?"
Akai Shuichi shook his head, "Such a group of armed individuals appearing domestically is our dereliction of duty."

"Now that the higher-ups have handed the investigation of this matter to us, we should at least greet them."
Saying this, Akai Shuichi raised his hands, walked past the vehicles in front, and headed towards the Porsche where Fujiwara Toru was.
"Wait, don't go over there! That madman might kill you!"

Jodie wanted to grab Akai Shuichi, but she was a step too late.
She watched nervously as Akai Shuichi walked forward, afraid that the CIA agent would open fire directly and turn Akai Shuichi into pulp too.
In the Porsche, Fujiwara Toru and Vermouth had temporarily separated.

Naturally, they also saw Akai Shuichi slowly walking towards them.
Seeing that it was Akai Shuichi, Vermouth frowned. Of course, she wanted to eliminate this FBI agent who had been investigating the organization.
But now, with so many police officers present, if Fujiwara Toru really opened fire, he would definitely face a military tribunal.
Moreover, it was the Black Organization that wanted to kill Akai Shuichi, but Fujiwara Toru, as a CIA agent, had no grudge against Akai Shuichi, and it was impossible for him to eliminate him.

Vermouth sighed lightly, deciding to ignore what she couldn't see. She took out a small mirror and lipstick and began to touch up her makeup.
The kiss with Fujiwara Toru just now had smudged all her lipstick.
Akai Shuichi was also nervous, afraid that the other party would fire accidentally. Only after reaching the side of the Porsche did he feel relieved.

When Fujiwara Toru rolled down the car window, Akai Shuichi immediately handed over his credentials: "I am FBI agent Akai Shuichi, this is my identification."
Habitually, Akai Shuichi subtly glanced at the passenger seat and was stunned to see that the person sitting there was actually Chris Vineyard, the famous Hollywood star.
But he quickly withdrew his gaze. He wasn't interested in prying into other people's private lives.

Fujiwara Toru finished checking the credentials, returned them to Akai Shuichi, and said, "I think your superior has already told you my identity. I don't have identification."
The FBI belonged to the judicial system, so of course, they had identification. But the CIA was an intelligence organization, prioritizing secrecy, and couldn't carry identification that revealed their identity.
"I've been assigned to investigate this incident."

Akai Shuichi nodded and said.
Fujiwara Toru shrugged, "That's good, then this matter is handed over to you. Letting such a group of armed individuals run rampant in the metropolis is the responsibility of both our departments."
"I've heard of you, Akai Shuichi. You've achieved quite a bit for the FBI, a star figure within the bureau."

Akai Shuichi offered a formal smile, "You flatter me, sir."
He didn't know Fujiwara Toru's name or his job; that was classified information, and he wouldn't inquire.
"Since you, Akai Shuichi, are investigating this matter, I can rest assured. Here's a hint: I suspect those people are from Mossad."

"You should have heard of Mossad's reputation. These people never scruple about the means they use. You should pay close attention and don't let them cause another major incident."
Listening to Fujiwara Toru's words, Akai Shuichi inwardly criticized.
If we're talking about unscrupulous means, the CIA, Mossad, and KGB are all equally notorious.

"Since the matter has been handed over to you, I'll leave first. Good luck, Mr. Akai Shuichi. I estimate you won't be able to sleep well for several days because of this troublesome matter."
After speaking, Fujiwara Toru chuckled, rolled up the car window, didn't waste any more words with Akai Shuichi, left him with a trail of exhaust fumes, and sped away.
As a direct subordinate department of the President, one of the most mysterious and confidential departments in America, as long as Fujiwara Toru didn't directly attack the FBI group, or even if he did, as long as there was no evidence, he didn't need to give a damn about anyone.

"Boy, where are we going now?"
Only after leaving Akai Shuichi did Vermouth speak up.
"Where do you want to go?"

"Let's go to my place."
Vermouth gave an address.
"Okay!"

Fujiwara Toru drove directly to a high-end apartment building in Manhattan. This was one of Vermouth's residences in America.
Arriving at Vermouth's home, just as the door closed, Vermouth jumped forcefully, her slender and powerful legs wrapping around Fujiwara Toru's waist.
"Boy, I can't stand it anymore, let's do it right here!"

Vermouth impatient like a monkey pulled at Fujiwara Toru's clothes. After escaping death, the man and woman most needed passion to release the pressure in their hearts.
Soon, sounds that made one's face blush and heart pound came from the entryway.