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

“But she died,” Lynn pointed out.

“I didn’t expect it to be that serious,” Wilson explained. “I thought it was just a minor injury that scared her and made her afraid to use her abilities to help others.”

"But you know that with the weight and speed of a truck, a side impact can be fatal."

Wilson fell silent, clearly unable to refute the fact.

"You received $50,000 afterwards?" Lynn continued to ask.

“Yes, but not immediately,” Wilson said. “It took a week, and it was in cash.”

"How did you receive it?"

“Someone left money in the trunk of my car,” Wilson described. “There were no clues, just an envelope containing cash.”

"Besides money, is there anything else?"

“There was a note warning me not to talk about it,” Wilson recalled. “It said there would be more benefits if I kept quiet. If I spoke, I would face the consequences.”

"Do you still have that note?"

“No, I burned it,” Wilson said regretfully. “But I remember the words on it: ‘Mission accomplished, reward delivered as promised. Remain silent, and more benefits await you. Talkativeness, consequences at your own risk.’”

Lynn wrote these words down. Although there was no physical evidence, this information was still valuable.

"Have you been in contact with the agency since then?"

“They didn’t contact me proactively, but they would occasionally text me to check on me,” Wilson said. “The last time was last month, asking if anyone had asked me about it.”

"What was your answer?"

“I said no,” Wilson admitted, “but now I think they might already know you’re investigating.”

This information alerted Lynn. If the other party was indeed monitoring Wilson, then today's conversation might have been discovered.

“Mr. Wilson, the situation has become more urgent now,” Lynn said. “If they find out you spoke with the FBI, your life could be in danger.”

Wilson's face grew even paler. "What should I do?"

“First, you can’t go home,” Lynn decided. “I’ll arrange a safe house until we catch the mastermind.”

"But my job"

“Your life is more important than your job,” Lynn interrupted him. “And if we manage to crack this case, your testimony will be crucial.”

"Do you really believe you can catch them?" Wilson asked.

“I believe you,” Lynn said confidently, “but I need your continued cooperation. I need all your contact records, including text messages, phone calls, and so on.”

“I have some text messages saved,” Wilson said. “The call logs should still be accessible.”

“Very good.” Lynn stood up. “Now we need to leave immediately. I will contact the security department to arrange protection for you.”

“Wait a minute,” Wilson said suddenly, “there’s something else I forgot to tell you.”

"What's up?"

“The agent mentioned that this wasn’t their first operation,” Wilson recalled. “He said they had successfully handled other ‘targets’ before.”

This information shocked Lynn. If true, Merlin's death might just be one of a series of organized crimes.

Did they mention the names of other victims?

“No specific names were mentioned, but there was a ‘healer’ in Philadelphia and a ‘mind reader’ in Boston,” Wilson recalled. “They said these targets were successfully ‘neutralized.’”

Lynn immediately realized the seriousness of the situation. This was not an isolated incident targeting Merlin personally, but a systematic operation by a nationwide anti-mutant terrorist organization.

“Mr. Wilson, this information is extremely important,” Lynn said solemnly. “We may now be facing a large-scale terrorist organization.”

“I just wanted to earn some extra money,” Wilson said desperately. “I never imagined I’d get involved in something this big.”

“It’s too late to say anything now,” Lynn said. “The important thing is to stop them from continuing to harm innocent people.”

Lynn immediately took out his phone and contacted FBI headquarters to request an emergency protection order. At the same time, he realized that the scale of this case far exceeded his initial expectations. He needed more resources and support to deal with this vast criminal network.

“Mr. Wilson, you will need to review this information in detail with our experts over the next few days,” Lynn told him. “Every detail could be a crucial clue.”

“I will cooperate fully,” Wilson nodded. “Right now, I just hope to survive.”

“We will protect you,” Lynn promised, “but at the same time, we also need to use the contact information you provided to track down these people.”

"What's the meaning?"

“We may need your continued supervision to maintain contact with them and help us gather more evidence,” Lynn explained. “Of course, this is entirely up to your willingness and security considerations.”

Wilson considered it for a moment. “If this helps in catching them, I’m willing to cooperate. But I need to ensure my own safety.”

“Of course,” Lynn agreed. “We will develop a detailed security plan.”

Shortly after.

Inside the FBI's safe house, Wilson sat nervously at a metal table, holding a cell phone that had been modified by the technical department. The phone looked exactly like the one he usually used, but it had been fitted with tracking and recording devices. Lynn sat opposite him, and two other technical experts were monitoring all communication signals.

“Remember, act naturally,” Lynn reminded Wilson again. “If they sense anything amiss, not only will the plan fail, but your life will be in danger.”

Wilson nodded, but his hands were still trembling slightly. "What should I say?"

“Just do it our plan,” Lynn said. “Tell them you’re concerned about the FBI investigation and need an interview to determine the next steps. Remember, don’t seem too eager, and don’t go into too much detail.”

The technician confirmed through the headset: "All equipment is ready, signal is clear."

Wilson took a deep breath and dialed the number he already knew. The phone was answered after four rings, and a deep male voice came through.

"What's wrong?" The voice was brief and alert.

“It’s me, Tom.” Wilson tried to make his voice sound normal. “I need to talk to you.”

"They said it on the phone."

“No, this is too important,” Wilson replied, following the script. “The FBI came to see me today.”

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, then the voice became even colder. "What did they ask?"

“Some questions about the car accident. I answered as you instructed, but I’m worried they suspect something.” Wilson’s performance was natural because the fear was real. “Did you say anything you shouldn’t have?”

“No, of course not,” Wilson quickly denied. “But I think they’ll come back. I need to know how to deal with it.”

Another silence followed. Lynn could hear faint background noise from the other end of the phone, which sounded like traffic.

“Meet at the usual place,” the voice finally said. “One hour later.”

“Okay, I’ll be right there,” Wilson said.

The call ended. Wilson put down his phone and let out a long sigh.

“Very good, you did it very naturally,” Lynn praised. “Where is the ‘old place’ they mentioned?”

“An abandoned dock under the Brooklyn Bridge,” Wilson replied. “We’ve met there twice before.”

Lynn immediately began arranging the operation. "Technical department, analyze the signal source of that phone call immediately. Tactical team, prepare to set up an encirclement around that dock."

“Detective,” one of the technical experts reported, “the signal indicates the caller ID is in Midtown Manhattan, but it’s likely a call that was transferred. The exact location may be difficult to determine.”

“It’s alright, as long as they show up as agreed,” Lynn said, then turned to Wilson. “You’ll be coming with us. The plan is for you to meet them first, then find an excuse to leave. We’ll act as soon as you’re safe.”

“What if they suspect me?” Wilson asked worriedly.

“We’ll have snipers protecting you covertly,” Lynn reassured him. “And you have tracking equipment on you, so we can monitor your location at any time.”

An hour later, Lynn and his team were deployed near the abandoned docks under the Brooklyn Bridge. It was the edge of an industrial area, filled with abandoned warehouses and rusty containers. The setting sun cast long shadows, adding to the eerie atmosphere of the area.

Lynn observed the dock through his binoculars. "Target area clearly visible. Is the sniper in position?"

"Sniper number one in position."

"Sniper number two, in position."

"Tactical Team A is in position on the east side."

"Tactical Team B is in position on the west flank."

Wilson walked toward an abandoned container in the center of the dock as planned. His steps were stiff, and he was clearly very nervous. Lynn could hear his rapid breathing through the hidden microphone.

“Relax, Wilson,” Lynn whispered through the headset. “Everything is under control.”

A few minutes later, a black sedan slowly drove towards the dock. The car stopped about fifty meters from Wilson, and a man in a dark coat got out. Even at this distance, Lynn could tell that the man was very alert, constantly looking around.

"Target spotted," Lynn reported via the communications system. "Alone, wearing a dark coat, approximately forty years old, medium build."

The man slowly approached Wilson, maintaining a wary posture throughout. As he drew closer, Lynn could see his features more clearly—an ordinary face, but with extremely cold eyes, looking like a retired soldier or a professional assassin.

“Tom,” the man greeted briefly.

“Thank you for agreeing to see me,” Wilson replied, his voice tinged with nervousness.

"Tell me, what exactly did the FBI ask?" the man asked, getting straight to the point.

"They asked about the details of the car accident and also asked if I knew Robert Kingsley," Wilson replied, following the script.

Upon hearing Kingsley's name, the man's expression visibly changed. "What was your answer?"

“I said I didn’t know him,” Wilson said, “but I don’t think they believed me.”

The man circled Wilson, like a predator surveying its prey. "Any other questions?"

“They asked me if I had ever participated in a political organization and showed me a photo from a rally,” Wilson continued.

“Damn it,” the man muttered, “they know more than we thought.”

At this moment, Lynn noticed that the man began frequently checking his watch and his surroundings. His professional intuition told him that the man might have sensed something.

"Are you sure no one is following you?" the man suddenly asked.

“I’m sure,” Wilson replied, but his voice was more tense.

The man stopped and stared intently into Wilson's eyes. "Tom, you're acting a little strange today."

“I’m just afraid of being discovered by the FBI,” Wilson tried to explain.

“No,” the man shook his head. “Your fear isn’t the right type. You’re not afraid of the FBI, but something else.”

Lynn realized the situation was starting to worsen. The man was clearly experienced and able to recognize Wilson's unusual behavior.

The man suddenly took a few steps back, reaching into his coat as he did so. "You've been bribed by the FBI, haven't you?"

"No, I didn't!" Wilson hurriedly denied, but it was too late.

"Attention all units, target detected, prepare to move out!" Lynn issued the order through the communication system.

The man quickly pulled a handgun from his coat, but instead of pointing it at Wilson, he warily glanced around. "You idiot! You brought the FBI!"

“I didn’t!” Wilson shouted desperately, but the man had already started running toward his car.

"Action! Action!" Lynn shouted.

The tactical team rushed out of their concealed positions, but the man reacted extremely quickly. He fired into the air as he ran towards the vehicle, clearly intending to create chaos and deterrence.

"Don't let him get away!" Lynn rushed out himself and chased after the man.

The man ran to the car and quickly climbed into the driver's seat. The engine started, but just as the car was about to start, a member of the tactical team successfully fired at the tires, causing the car to lose control and crash into an abandoned container.

"Surrender! Lay down your weapons!" the tactical team members shouted.

The man crawled out of the mangled car, blood streaming from his head, but still clutching a gun. He looked around and, finding himself surrounded, finally dropped his weapon and raised his hands.

“I surrender,” he said, his voice tinged with frustration.

Lynn strode towards him, gesturing for the medical team to examine his injuries. “Sir, I am FBI Detective Hall. You have been arrested on suspicion of murder, terrorism, and other felonies.”

The man stared coldly at Lynn without saying a word.

“You have the right to remain silent, and anything you say may be used against you in court,” Lynn read out Miranda’s rights as per procedure. (End of Chapter)