The vehicle drove straight ahead, and after about half an hour, it arrived at Haneda Airport.
When Johnny and his companions got out of the car, they were immediately shocked by the scene before them: dozens of identical cars continuously drove in from the intersection, and teams of people disembarked, looking at each other.
Because they wore hoods and masks, no one could recognize anyone else.
It was very difficult to judge who was who based solely on their outlines; everyone was too preoccupied to joke around or chat with others, each burdened with their own thoughts.
The sudden change in rules, the shift in setting, and the weapon restrictions all put immense pressure on everyone.
The cargo area of Haneda Airport at 2 AM was a world apart from the quiet passenger terminal.
It was vast and silent, yet an invisible tension permeated the low hum of machinery.
The massive concrete tarmac stretched into the dark distance, sparsely dotted with a few vaguely outlined cargo planes or passenger planes awaiting maintenance.
At the edge of the horizon, the deep night sky pressed down on the inky blue waters of Tokyo Bay; only a few distant city neon lights and scattered ship lights on the horizon failed to dispel the gloom of the place.
The only clear light source came from the signal lights atop the towering control tower, rotating rhythmically, intermittently sweeping a cold white beam across the empty tarmac and the colossal bodies of the planes.
The air was thick and muggy; the high humidity characteristic of mid-July Tokyo had not completely subsided even at midnight.
The temperature hovered around 28 degrees Celsius, with humidity exceeding 70%.
Those wearing sealed hoods could distinctly feel the dampness and warmth of the filtered air with each breath, making them extremely uncomfortable.
The tarmac, baked by the scorching sun during the day, was still slowly radiating heat, mixed with the scent of aviation fuel, hot asphalt, and a faint salty tang carried by the sea breeze.
A faint breeze, barely perceptible, was insufficient to carry away the rising sweat, only making the occasional hum of the navigation lights above their heads sound clearer.
Standing directly in front of the boarding gate was a veritable steel behemoth, a C-17 Globemaster III transport aircraft.
Its enormous size cast an almost boundless shadow on the tarmac in the dead of night, compressing the world before them into a mechanical, hard-lined silhouette.
At this moment, this massive hatch was rising completely upwards, like a prehistoric beast opening its maw.
The thick hydraulic cylinders and complex linkage mechanisms on the inner side of the cargo door were clearly visible, glinting with a cold metallic luster in the dim light.
The lowered cargo door opened like a giant, light-devouring cavern; from deep within the cargo hold, a relatively dimmer glow of red lighting or emergency lights leaked out, but it was suppressed by the intense external strobes and beacon lights, appearing extremely faint, merely outlining the blurred edges of the internal steel framework and ramp.
The entire scene was dominated by this behemoth and its stubbornly flashing, tireless signal lights.
The alternating bright and dark, red and white intense lights, like a fierce heartbeat, pounded out a suffocating rhythm in the muggy, dead-silent midnight airport, mercilessly striking the hearts of every masked, unknown individual walking step by step towards that gaping steel cavern.
An inexplicable atmosphere slowly spread among the crowd, subsequently affecting everyone.
The deadly rules, the unknown location, and this colossal C-17 transport plane all exuded an inexplicable sense of tension.
Each person carried a parachute pack; beyond that, they had no other weapons or equipment.
Once everyone had entered the C-17's cargo hold, they could only sit on the floor, as there were no seats inside.
After confirming that everyone was on board and inside the cargo hold, the members of the tactical squad began to direct the retraction of the massive hydraulic ramp.
As the cargo door slowly rose, the lights in the cargo hold gradually came on. In the dim light, Johnny could clearly see the special forces team standing at the very edge of the cargo hold, holding guns, ready for any unexpected events.
At this moment, the cabin broadcast suddenly came on.
"Welcome aboard the C-17 cargo plane. I am your captain, Burke. First, let me explain the rules to you."
"I assume you all have your parachute packs ready, so when we reach our destination, the cargo door will open, and you can jump out. Of course, this process will last for a long time, and the door will only fully close after we have completely left the destination area."
"But if you are still on the plane before the door closes, then I will send you to meet God."
As James's voice continued to echo through the broadcast, everyone understood the rules for this flight.
The plane had not yet taken off, and their watches showed no time at all.
After an unknown period of time spent in the cargo hold, a sudden tremor came, and the transport plane began to move.
Everyone's spirits grew tense; they looked at each other.
With another tremor, everyone felt the air pressure in their ears drop significantly, causing an extremely uncomfortable sensation, which then slowly subsided into calm.
It was unknown how long the transport plane had been flying when an alarm suddenly sounded, and all the red lights in the cabin illuminated.
"In two minutes, we will arrive above our destination. I will then open the cargo door; when you jump out is entirely up to you."
James's voice sounded once more, and then the hydraulic cargo door was seen slowly lowering. A strong wind immediately rushed in through the opening, making it impossible for everyone to keep their eyes open.
Fortunately, the parachute packs were equipped with goggles, which they quickly put on, and that helped a little.
When the cargo door was fully open, the crowd realized that outside the cabin, it was already dawn.
No one knew where they were, only that they were about to jump out of the plane.
And those closest to the door jumped out without hesitation; in their view, jumping first offered an advantage, while jumping later would offer much less.
As more and more killers jumped out of the cabin, only a few people remained inside.
Johnny and his companions had reached the edge of the door. Looking down, they saw a small island. From the air, the island wasn't large, and it was surrounded by seawater. They could vaguely discern the outlines of some buildings on the island, but couldn't see them clearly.
"Should we jump now?"
Johnny spoke, but the immense wind directly carried his words away; he felt his mouth fill with wind, and no one heard what he said.
John gave him a hand signal.
The other four also saw it, and then everyone nodded. John made a countdown gesture with his hand.
As John's hand clenched into a fist and dropped, all five simultaneously ran and jumped out of the cargo door.
It wasn't until they had moved some distance from the plane that they realized their watches had automatically activated, displaying a small map with five green dots.
Undoubtedly, this map was of the island below, and the five green dots represented themselves.
Johnny flipped over and looked back; more people were still jumping out in succession.
He used his hands to paddle the air, turning himself over again, and looked into the distance; those who had jumped out were still drifting in the air.
Johnny made a gesture, the general meaning being not to land in the center of the island, but closer to the edge, as there were too many people in the center.
John, Ghost Wolf, Little Devil, and the Witch all agreed, so the group dove towards the same location.
A tremendous wind roared in their ears; if not for the goggles, their eyeballs would probably have been blown out.
As their descent speed increased, the island became clearer and clearer before their eyes; even in the dawn, it was still clearly visible.
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