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Just as Jim was about to pull the trigger, a sudden knock on the door interrupted him.
Ethan tried to seize the opening and disarm Jim, but Jim kept the gun moving between him and Claire.
He wasn't confident he could do it without someone getting hurt.
As for drawing his own gun-
Thanks to some equipment Morin had provided, Ethan wasn't as helpless as he had been in the original timeline. He did have a gun.
But with Jim already aiming at them, Ethan had no chance to draw it.
Jim was a top-tier special agent.
His reactions were fast.
"Who's in there?" someone shouted from outside. "This is the baggage compartment. I'm the conductor. Passengers aren't allowed in here!"
"You. Open the door," Jim said, gesturing with his gun at Claire.
He slowly shifted position, choosing an angle where he wouldn't be seen immediately when the door opened, but could still threaten both Ethan and Claire.
"Don't try anything funny. My gun is faster than you think."
Jim knew that no matter who was outside, the priority was stopping them from causing a scene.
If more people were drawn in, things would spiral out of control.
So the best option was to lure the troublemaker inside-
And make sure they never caused trouble again.
After all, a dead person couldn't make noise.
Claire walked to the door and slowly opened it.
"Hello, Agent Claire," Morin said from outside, smiling faintly.
He stepped straight into the baggage compartment and closed the door behind him.
"Who are you?" Jim's guard instantly shot to its highest level.
This man knew Claire was an agent.
Which meant he knew their identities.
That alone proved he wasn't a conductor.
"Who am I?" Morin replied calmly. "Who do you think I am?"
"CIA?" Jim blurted out instinctively-then snapped back to reality and aimed his gun at Morin.
"Forget it. It doesn't matter who you are."
"Once you're dead, you're nobody."
Jim had no intention of dragging this out.
Keeping a single handgun trained on three people was already difficult-especially with Ethan there.
As Ethan's former team leader, Jim knew exactly how dangerous he was.
The moment he finished speaking, Jim aimed at Morin's chest and pulled the trigger.
"Bang!"
"Clang!"
"No-!"
Ethan's eyes widened. The shout barely left his throat before freezing there.
"I have to say," Morin said, unmoving. He glanced down at his chest and smiled.
"You have excellent aim, Agent Jim."
There was a hole in Morin's shirt.
Beneath it, something silver-white gleamed.
"You see, I used to be a car mechanic," Morin continued casually. "And I was pretty good at it. So I get nostalgic sometimes."
He reached into his shirt and pulled out a massive wrench.
"As a car mechanic, it's perfectly reasonable for me to carry a wrench, isn't it?"
The [Dimensional High-Level Wrench] revealed itself.
Morin had walked in openly because he was confident.
A wrench that could appear anywhere on his body was one of the reasons for that confidence.
Jim frowned.
This guy was insane.
Who carried a wrench on their chest?
Even if someone did carry one, wouldn't it go in a waistband?
Wasn't that uncomfortable?
He pushed the thought aside and fired again-this time aiming for the head.
Let's see you block this one.
"Bang!"
"Clang!"
This time, Ethan, Claire, and Jim all stared wide-eyed.
Ethan even forgot to take the chance to grab the gun.
"Your aim really is good, Agent Jim," Morin said, holding the wrench steady and tilting his head slightly.
"You manage to hit my wrench every single time."
"Who the hell are you?!" Jim's voice finally cracked.
"I told you. I used to be a car mechanic," Morin replied, idly spinning the wrench.
"Oh. You mean my current profession?"
"You should've asked earlier."
"My current profession is-"
Morin started walking toward Jim.
"Don't come any closer!" Jim shouted, panic creeping in.
Morin didn't stop.
Jim fired again.
"Bang!"
"Clang!"
The same sound.
The bullet struck the wrench once more.
"You're too slow, Agent Jim," Morin said, advancing step by step.
"Your gun is too slow."
Jim was using a revolver.
Bullet speed: roughly 300 to 400 meters per second.
The generally accepted limit of human reaction speed was about 0.1 seconds.
In professional racing, anything faster than that counted as a false start.
There might be faster reactions hidden in the human body-
But none had been confirmed.
Morin was different.
His reaction speed and physical capabilities had both been enhanced.
Hardware and software.
More than twelve times beyond human limits.
This wasn't something you could calculate with simple arithmetic.
Morin had tested himself before.
His reaction speed in a normal state was 0.0008 seconds.
The distance between him and Jim kept shrinking.
By the time Jim had fired all six bullets, the distance had only closed to one meter.
At 400 meters per second, a bullet took 0.0025 seconds to travel that distance.
In other words-
Morin wasn't exaggerating.
As long as he wanted to, he could clearly see the bullet's trajectory and place the wrench exactly where it needed to be.
"Bang! Clang!"
"Bang, clang!"
"Bang! Clang!"
"Bang, clang!"
"Click. Click."
Even standing face to face with Morin, Jim kept pulling the trigger out of instinct.
Unfortunately for him, this wasn't the legendary [Infinite Ammo Handgun] everyone talked about in Main Space.
He was completely out.
"My current profession," Morin said calmly, pulling out an ID card, "is IRS Special Agent."
"I'm responsible for investigating your tax evasion and illegal income."
"Are you even human...?" Jim stared at him in disbelief.
At this point, he didn't care about the IRS.
Or taxes.
Or anything else.
His worldview had already collapsed.
Ethan and Claire stood nearby, silent spectators.
They felt the same.
"Of course I'm human, Agent Jim," Morin said, smiling as he peeled off the human-skin mask from his head.
"But whether you are is something we'll need to examine carefully."
"Oh, and you shot me six times."
"It wouldn't be too much for me to hit you once, would it?"
Without waiting for a response, Morin swung the wrench.
He restrained the force.
Otherwise, what followed would've been red, yellow, and white everywhere.
A dull thud echoed.
Jim collapsed to the floor.