American comics: I am full of martial virtues and I love to be kind to others.

The next day.

A gloomy rain blanketed New York, the sky a somber, leaden gray, as if mourning the day's failed mass attack. Rain pattered against the windows of the FBI's Manhattan headquarters, leaving winding streaks. Lynn Hall stood by his office window, a cup of cold coffee in his hand, his eyes reflecting a triumphant calm mixed with a wary eye for future threats.

After thwarting "Project Reaper" at the Metropolitan Stadium yesterday, Lynn and his team worked until 3 a.m., processing evidence, interrogating suspects, and writing reports. Only at Chief Wilson's insistence did he finally get four hours of sleep at home, but his mind seemed unable to fully relax; his dreams were still filled with the electric, blue-glowing eyes and his final warning.

“Lynn, you look like you need another coffee,” Sarah Collins said as she entered, carrying two steaming cups of coffee. “I guess yours is already cold.”

Lynn turned around, took the coffee Sarah offered, and smiled slightly. "Thank you. How did you sleep last night?"

Sarah shrugged. "You're a little better off; at least you slept for six hours. But when I woke up, the news was flooded with reports of yesterday's 'mysterious explosion,' and reporters were speculating about what had happened."

Lynn took a sip of coffee: "Chief Wilson's PR team did a good job. They only said it was a small explosion caused by a malfunction in the stadium equipment, that there were no casualties, and the game proceeded as scheduled."

“Yes, the public knows nothing about the truth,” Sarah sighed. “They don’t know they almost experienced a major disaster yesterday.”

Lynn walked back to his desk, turned on his computer to check the latest intelligence summary: "What new movements have the other members of the Black Crow organization made?"

Sarah shook her head: "Not yet. The three suspects arrested yesterday are still being interrogated, but they don't know much; they're just low-level members responsible for installing the disguise devices. As for the current, he seems to have disappeared again, and the analysis of the transmission device hasn't made much progress."

Lynn frowned. "They won't give up so easily. Electric is an arrogant fellow, and yesterday's defeat must have infuriated him. I'm worried he'll soon be planning his next move, which might be even more aggressive."

Just then, Lynn's office phone rang. He pressed the speakerphone button: "Hall."

“Lynn,” Chief Wilson’s voice came through the loudspeaker, “I need you immediately to go to the ‘Ruby Cellars’ in Queens. There’s been a particularly serious robbery there, the victims are insisting we send our best agents, and the mayor is also putting pressure on me.”

Lynn and Sarah exchanged a puzzled look: "Robbery? Chief, isn't that under the NYPD's jurisdiction?"

Wilson's voice grew more serious: "Normally, but this case has special circumstances. First, the stolen item was a bottle of antique red wine worth tens of millions of dollars, the cellar's prized possession; second, and most importantly, according to witness accounts and surveillance footage, the perpetrators used supernatural abilities—one could walk through walls, and the other could manipulate glass."

Lynn immediately became alert: "The mutant's abilities are very likely from the Black Crow organization."

“That’s what I think too,” Wilson said. “This could be retaliation for yesterday’s failure, or some kind of provocation. I need you to investigate this case personally, confirm whether it’s related to the Black Crows, and if so, find out their motives and next steps.”

Lynn put down his coffee cup. "Understood, Chief. I'll head to the scene immediately. Any other details?"

"The incident occurred at approximately 2:30 AM today. The wine cellar's security system was somehow compromised, preventing the alarm from being triggered. The stolen item was a bottle of 1847 Lafite red wine, reportedly from the last batch from the Napoleonic era, worth approximately seventeen million US dollars. The cellar owner is William Rothschild, a descendant of a European banking family with significant influence in New York high society."

“Roger that, we’re off right away.” Lynn hung up the phone and turned to Sarah. “Looks like our vacation is over.”

Sarah had already begun gathering equipment: "I'll go prepare the vehicle. Should we bring any special gear? Considering the possibility of encountering mutants."

Lynn nodded. "Bring a portable suppressor and a tranquilizer gun, just in case. Also, notify Mark and have him check the details and recent transaction history of this bottle of wine. I want to know why Black Crow would be interested in a bottle of wine, no matter how expensive it is."

Forty minutes later, Lynn and Sarah's car pulled up in front of a classic-style building on Manhattan Avenue in Queens. "Ruby Cellars" was located on the ground floor of this red-brick building with Victorian architectural features. The gold signboard at the entrance glittered in the rain, and police tape was put up around the area. Several police cars and a forensic vehicle were parked in front of the entrance.

Lynn and Sarah showed their FBI badges and crossed the police line. A middle-aged officer approached them: "Agent Hall? I'm Detective Hansen, in charge of the initial investigation. Mr. Rothschild is waiting for you inside."

Lynn and Hansen shook hands briefly: "Was the crime scene preserved as it was?"

Hansen nodded. “They preserved it as much as possible. To be honest, it’s one of the strangest robberies I’ve ever seen. There were no signs of forced entry, the security system was intact, but the CCTV footage shows two people just walking into the highest-security wine cellar.”

Lynn and Sarah followed Hansen into the wine cellar. The interior was opulent and classic, with deep red walls, meticulously polished walnut floors, and crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow. Wine shelves were neatly arranged with fine red wines of various vintages and origins, each bottle displayed in a specially designed temperature- and humidity-controlled glass cabinet. The entire space was filled with the rich aroma of aged oak barrels and wine, as if stepping into a timeless European castle.

In the central area of ​​the wine cellar, a tall, elderly man with neatly combed slicked-back hair was talking to the forensic experts. He was about sixty years old, wearing a custom-made dark blue suit with a gold brooch on his tie, exuding the elegance and authority unique to high society.

“Mr. Rothschild,” Detective Hansen introduced, “this is FBI Agent Lynn Hall and Agent Sarah Collins.”

William Rothschild turned to face Lynn and extended his hand. “Detective Hall, thank you for coming in person. This theft is not just a financial loss for me, but also an emotional and historical one.”

Lynn shook hands with him: "Please rest assured, Mr. Rothschild, we will do our best to investigate this case. Could you show us the location of the stolen wine and the surveillance footage?" Rothschild nodded and led them through the main display area to a heavy metal door at the back. He entered a password, and the door slowly opened, revealing a smaller but significantly more secure inner wine cellar.

“This is my private collection room,” Rothschild explained. “It only houses my most precious items and is not open to the public. The entire room has an independent temperature and humidity control system, 24-hour surveillance, and a state-of-the-art security system.”

The interior wine cellar is more exquisitely decorated, with antique maps of wine regions and family photos hanging on the walls. Several glass display cases showcase various antique wine-related artifacts. In the center of the room, on a separate circular display stand, there is a noticeably empty space, surrounded by shards of glass scattered on the floor.

Rothschild pointed to the empty space: "That bottle of 1847 Lafite is right here. My great-grandfather brought it from France, and it's been treasured by our family for five generations. It's not only one of the most expensive red wines in the world, but it also has irreplaceable historical value. It's said to be the last batch from Napoleon III's personal wine cellar, and it bears the royal seal."

Lynn carefully examined the display case and the surrounding shattered glass: "Was the display case shattered from the inside?"

Rothschild nodded. “Exactly, that’s the most incredible part. The display case is made of specially made bulletproof glass, and it has pressure sensors and a laser alarm system inside. Logically, if anyone tried to open or damage it, the alarm should have been triggered immediately. But the surveillance footage shows that the glass shattered on its own.”

Sarah, already wearing gloves, crouched down to examine the shards on the ground: "The way these shards broke is peculiar; it doesn't seem like a physical impact, but rather like the internal structure of the glass was altered by some force."

Lynn turned to Rothschild: "Where's the surveillance footage? I need to see the whole thing."

Rothschild led them to a small monitoring room at the back of the cellar. A technician was operating a computer, and the screen displayed real-time monitoring footage from various parts of the cellar.

"Play the internal cellar video from 2:20 to 2:40 a.m.," Rothschild ordered. The technicians quickly switched the screen to playback mode.

The video began playing, showing an empty wine cellar with everything seemingly normal. The time was 2:27 AM when suddenly, a strange ripple appeared on one of the cellar walls, as if the surface of water had been disturbed. Then, a figure emerged from the wall, as if passing through a thin veil. It was a short but muscular man, dressed in all-black combat gear, his face obscured by a mask.

“A wall-walker,” Lynn whispered, “that matches the ability Jack described.”

Immediately afterwards, another figure emerged from the same wall. It was a tall woman, also dressed in black combat gear, but without a mask, revealing a delicate yet cold face, with short blonde hair shimmering under the light.

The two walked directly to the central display stand without touching any other items. The woman stood in front of the display case, her outstretched hands trembling slightly. In the surveillance footage, the glass of the display case began to subtly change, with fine ripples appearing on its surface. Then, suddenly, the entire glass case seemed to shatter from the inside, as if struck by some invisible force.

The man quickly reached in, carefully removed the bottle of red wine, and placed it in a specially designed protective case. The entire process took less than thirty seconds, and the two men, carrying the wine, left through the wall in the same manner, without triggering any alarms.

“This is unbelievable,” Rothschild said, shaking his head. “I invested millions of dollars in this security system, and it was so easily cracked by two people.”

Lynn stared thoughtfully at the screen: "Not a crack, but a complete bypass. The ability to walk through walls explains how they got in and out, and that woman... she seems to be able to manipulate the molecular structure of the glass, causing it to disintegrate from the inside."

Sarah pointed to the screen: "Wait, replay the moment the woman turned around." The technician played back the video, and Sarah pointed to a mark on the woman's neck in the frame: "Look there, that mark."

Lynn leaned closer to the screen and saw a small tattoo on the back of the woman's neck—a black raven with outstretched wings. "The Black Raven organization's mark. Confirmed, this is one of their people."

Rothschild looked at the two agents in surprise: "The Black Rooks? I've heard of that name, but I thought it was just an urban legend. Why would they steal my wine?"

Lynn turned to Rothschild: "That's exactly what we need to investigate. Mr. Rothschild, besides its historical and monetary value, what's so special about this bottle of wine? Is there any legend or special history behind it?"

Rothschild pondered for a moment: "Aside from its historical origins and extremely high collectible value, there's nothing particularly special about it. Of course, every antique wine has its own story. This bottle of Lafite, before entering my family collection, belonged to an ancient French family of alchemists. Legend has it that they added a special ingredient during the winemaking process, giving this batch of wine not only a unique taste but also some medicinal value. But this is just an interesting anecdote passed down within the family; there's no scientific basis for it."

Lynn and Sarah exchanged a glance: "Alchemists and special ingredients? That might be why Black Raven is interested. We know they're researching various methods to enhance mutant abilities; perhaps the ingredients in this bottle are related to their research."

Rothschild looked at them in astonishment: "You mean, they're not here for the wine's value, but for its ingredients? That's absurd."

Lynn shook his head. “In our work, very little is truly absurd, Mr. Rothschild. The very existence of mutants has been considered absurd.” He turned to Sarah. “We need more information. Contact Mark and have him look into the history of this alchemist family, and whether there are any special records regarding this batch of wine.”

Sarah nodded and went aside to make a phone call. Lynn continued to ask Rothschild, "How long have you had this bottle in your collection?"

“At least a hundred years,” Rothschild replied. “My great-grandfather brought it from France to America at the end of the nineteenth century, and it has been kept by the family ever since.”

Has anyone recently expressed particular interest in it? Have you received any unusually high-priced acquisition offers?

Rothschild shook his head, then suddenly remembered something: "Wait, there is something. About a month ago, a man claiming to be a wine collector contacted me, offering to buy this bottle at a price far above market value. I refused at the time because it's a family heirloom and we don't intend to sell. The man was very persistent, eventually offering even thirty million US dollars, but I still refused." (End of Chapter)