mijobooks Chapter 31 The Parking Lot Ambush
Chapter 31 The Parking Lot Ambush
The water in the sink was stained a chilling dark red.
Kitahara Shin stared at the mirror.
The "wound" on his forehead was still oozing a viscous liquid. It was a mixture of specially made corn syrup and food coloring, which had dried halfway under the cold air and formed a nauseating dark red hard lump.
The collar of the white shirt was soaked with large patches of crimson blood, clinging tightly to the skin and emitting a sweet, fishy smell.
Combined with his bloodshot eyes from staying up all night filming, he looked exactly like a murderer who had just disposed of a body at a crime scene.
"Kitahara-san, aren't you going to take a shower before you leave?" A stagehand passing by looked at him and felt a little intimidated.
"No, I'm too tired. I'll shower when I get home."
Kitahara Shin waved his hand, grabbed the black suit jacket draped over the back of the chair, casually draped it over his shoulders to cover the horrifying "bloodstains," and walked out of the dressing room.
Two o'clock in the morning.
The underground parking lot of Toei Studios was empty and cold.
The old incandescent bulbs overhead emitted a buzzing sound, casting a stark white light. The air was thick with the damp, musty smell and lingering fumes from car exhaust.
Click, click, click.
Footsteps echoed on the concrete floor.
Walking over to the rented Toyota, Kitahara Shin took out the keys.
His movements stopped the instant his fingers touched the cold car door.
Having spent a month "killing" people on Kinji Fukasaku's film set, his perception of malice became exceptionally sharp.
There was someone in the shadows behind the pillar.
"You're leaving already? Big star."
Accompanied by a flippant whistle, three men in floral shirts came out.
They were carrying long, strip-shaped objects wrapped in newspapers, which they spread out in a fan shape, blocking Kitahara Shin's path.
The leader was a burly man with a pompadour hairstyle and a face full of scars: "You mean that 'Mad Dog' from director Fukasaku's movies? He looks pretty skinny in person."
Kitahara Shin did not turn around.
He was checking the rearview mirror.
Three people. Two meters apart. They are armed.
In this situation, a direct confrontation is suicidal. An ordinary person fighting three armed thugs would usually end up in the ICU.
"Why aren't you saying anything? Are you scared out of your wits?"
The burly man spat, ripped the newspaper from his hand, revealing a rusty galvanized iron pipe. He weighed it in his palm: "Someone asked us to pass on a message—if you're going to act, just act properly, and stop trying to take away other people's interests. If you break these legs, you'll be in trouble for the rest of your life."
Kitahara Shin sighed.
Jin Jing is a really dirty guy.
He didn't turn around to beg for mercy, nor did he adopt any fighting stance.
He simply inserted the car key into the trunk lock, and with a "click," the trunk lid opened.
"Damn! You want something? Take him down!"
Upon seeing this, the burly man roared and charged forward with the iron pipe in hand.
In that instant, Kitahara Shin turned around.
As he turned around, the suit jacket draped over his shoulders slipped to the ground.
Under dim and flickering lights.
The white shirt, completely soaked in dark red liquid, was thus exposed without any cover to the three thugs.
His face was covered in "bloodstains," and his eyes, bloodshot and extremely tired from staying up all night, stared intently at them.
The burly man at the front suddenly stopped.
His hand, holding the iron pipe, froze in mid-air, and a strange, distorted cry escaped his throat: "...Holy shit?!"
The visual impact is enormous.
They were just thugs who did things for money, and at most they would fight. They had never seen such a scene, as if they had just crawled out of a dismemberment site.
Kitahara Shin remained silent.
He slowly took the L-shaped tire wrench used for changing the spare tire from the trunk.
It was a solid steel rod, and in his hand it felt like he was holding a butcher's knife.
He took a step forward.
The soles of the shoes made a clear scraping sound as they stepped on the cement floor.
"Are you here to 'add drama' too?"
Kitahara Shin's voice was hoarse, revealing a neurotic quality that suggested he was still not out of character.
He raised his hand, wiped the "blood plasma" off his face with his fingers, and then put his fingers in his mouth to taste it.
It's sweet. Corn syrup is definitely sweet.
But to those three thugs, the action was chilling—this madman was licking blood!
"Big brother... this... this person is strange..."
The henchmen behind him went weak in the knees, their baseball bats trembling as they fell to the ground. "He...he looks like he just killed someone..."
"I just finished filming a scene where someone was chopped up, and I haven't had enough yet."
Kitahara Shin took another step forward, dragging the steel rod in his hand across the concrete, making a piercing noise.
He stared blankly at the burly man in the lead: "Since you're here, don't leave. This trunk... can just fit one more person in."
The sweet, fishy smell drifted on the wind and into the burly man's nose.
That's the smell of "blood".
The burly man looked at Kitahara Shin's lifeless eyes, then at the terrifying blood-stained clothes.
Even if reason told him it might be an actor, humanity's fear of the unknown overwhelmed everything. Who the hell would risk their life to see if it was real or fake blood?
"You're crazy...you're crazy..."
The burly man swallowed hard and instinctively backed away.
"No...it's none of my business! We only received 20,000 yuan! Don't come any closer!"
"Run! Run!"
Someone shouted first, and the three thugs, who had been so aggressive, suddenly dropped their iron pipes and ran away as if they had seen a ghost.
Footsteps echoed haphazardly in the empty parking lot; one could even hear someone fall, get up, and continue running.
Ten seconds later.
The car's taillights disappeared on the exit ramp.
The parking lot fell silent again.
Clang.
Kitahara Shin dropped the tire wrench from his hand.
He leaned against the trunk, his body slowly sliding down until he sat on the cold cement floor.
His legs were trembling violently, and his shirt was instantly soaked with cold sweat.
That one minute just now exhausted all his energy and acting skills.
If those three people hadn't been scared, if even one of them had rushed up to check if the blood was sweet, he would be in the hospital right now.
"Huff... huff..."
Kitahara Shin was panting heavily, his heart pounding wildly.
He looked at the lone tire wrench on the ground, then at his hands covered in red syrup.
This is not acting.
Jin Jing has no bottom line. He scared them away this time, but what about next time?
"That was really dangerous..."
He picked up his suit from the ground and hastily wiped the syrup off his face.
The fear dissipated, leaving only a chilling anger.
Since you no longer want to follow the rules.
Then I no longer need to be a civilized person who only knows how to act.
Kitahara Shin stood up, braced himself against the car body, threw the tire wrench back into the trunk, and slammed the lid shut.
He got into the driver's seat and struggled to align his still trembling fingers with the keyhole.
Start the car.
With the roar of its engine, the Toyota drove out of the cold, damp parking lot.