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

“We will strengthen security measures. Additionally, we need to discuss how to handle Evan Ross's legal status.”

“I recommend that he be temporarily detained under witness protection before proceeding with the theft charges,” Lynn said. “His testimony is crucial to the case.”

"Agreed. We'll discuss it in detail tomorrow."

After the call ended, Evan asked, "Will I go to jail?"

“Possibly, but not for long,” Lynn answered honestly. “Given your motives and level of cooperation, probation is possible.”

“I know I made a mistake,” Evan said softly, “but those children really need help, and the rehabilitation center is never well-funded.”

“There are legal ways to obtain funds,” Lynn cautioned. “Apply for government subsidies, seek charitable donations, or find other work to supplement your income.”

“I’ve tried these methods, but they’re all too slow,” Evan explained. “Some children’s conditions are very serious, and we can’t wait too long.”

Lynn understood Evan's motives, but the law is the law. "Your intentions are good, but your methods are wrong. The important thing now is to learn from your mistakes and find the right path."

“If I survive,” Evan said with a wry smile, “I suspect they’ll continue hunting me after tonight.”

“We will protect you,” Lynn promised. “And through your case, we have a better understanding of Blackwood’s operating methods. This is valuable to our investigation.”

After a two-hour drive, the armored convoy finally arrived at the FBI headquarters in New York. It was late at night, but the building was still brightly lit, clearly indicating that headquarters had prepared for this emergency.

When they entered the building, Alyssa was already waiting in the lobby. Seeing Lynn return safely, a relieved expression appeared on her face.

“Detective Lynn! Are you alright?” Elisa asked with concern.

“I’m fine, just a little tired,” Lynn replied, then introduced Evan to her, “This is Evan Ross, the witness we’re protecting tonight.”

Alyssa glanced at Evan, her expression becoming complex. As a telepath, she could sense Evan's emotional state—shame, fear, and a deep sense of remorse.

“Hello, Mr. Ross,” Elisa said politely. “I am Elisa Connor.”

"You too?" Evan didn't finish his sentence, but his meaning was clear.

“Yes, I’m a mutant too.” Elisa nodded. “I have telepathy.”

“Then you should be able to sense that I’ve done a lot of wrong things.” Evan lowered his head.

“I can sense that your remorse is genuine,” Elisa said gently. “This is the first step towards change.”

Supervisor Johnson approached, looking tired but focused. "Detective Hall, welcome back. We need to report immediately."

“Of course,” Lynn nodded, “but first we need to arrange accommodation for Evan.”

“It’s all ready,” Johnson said. “There’s a room on the secure floor, guarded 24 hours a day.”

After Evan was taken to rest, Lynn, Alyssa, and Johnson gave a detailed report in the conference room. Lynn described the entire incident, from discovering Evan's theft to the final chase and escape.

“This operation revealed several important pieces of information,” Johnson concluded. “First, the Blackwood organization has a large number of well-trained armed personnel. Second, they have the ability to mobilize resources rapidly. Third, they may have internal intelligence sources.”

“There’s one more thing,” Lynn added. “Their target selection strategy is more sophisticated than we thought. They don’t just randomly choose mutants; they look for targets with weaknesses.”

“What do you mean?” Elisa asked.

“Evan’s thefts gave them the perfect cover,” Lynn explained. “If he were killed, it would look like revenge, not a hate crime against mutants.”

"So they might be actively looking for mutants with criminal records or other vulnerabilities," Johnson understood. "That would provide a plausible explanation for their murders."

“Exactly,” Lynn nodded. “This also explains why some investigations are so superficial. Local law enforcement sees an obvious criminal motive and doesn’t delve deeper into other possibilities.”

"So what should we do next?" Elisa asked.

“We need to warn all potential targets, especially mutants who may have some kind of weakness,” Johnson said. “At the same time, we need to intensify our investigation into the Blackwood organization.”

“Tonight’s operation also sent them a message,” Lynn pointed out. “They now know we are actively protecting potential targets. This may cause them to change their tactics.”

“Or they could speed things up,” Elisa said worriedly. “If they feel pressured, they might resort to more extreme measures.”

The meeting lasted two hours and a detailed follow-up action plan was developed. By the time everything was finished, it was already 4 a.m.

“You should all go back and rest,” Johnson said. “There’s a lot of work to do tomorrow.”

As Lynn was about to leave, Elisa called him back.

“Detective Lynn, I’d like to talk to you about Evan’s situation.”

"what's the situation?"

“I could sense the complex emotions he was experiencing,” Elisa said. “He was genuinely ashamed of his actions, but he was also confused. He didn’t understand why his desire to help others would lead to such dangerous consequences.”

“This is a good lesson,” Lynn said. “Good intentions cannot be an excuse for breaking the law.”

“I agree, but I also understand his predicament,” Alyssa said. “As mutants, we often feel marginalized and feel that traditional support systems don’t work for us.” “So how do you think we should help him?”

“Perhaps we can connect him with some legitimate resources,” Elisa suggested, “to help him find the right way to support children who need help.”

“That’s a good idea,” Lynn agreed, “and it might also help with his rehabilitation and future witness cooperation.”

By the time Lynn finally returned to her apartment, it was already getting light.

Lynn rested for a while before heading to her office.

The morning sunlight streamed through the gaps in the blinds, casting dappled patterns on Lynn Hall's desk. He sat in his chair, a cup of now-cold coffee in his hand, his eyes glued to the documents scrolling across the computer screen.

The office door was suddenly pushed open, and young agent Sarah rushed in. Her short blond hair was a little messy, clearly indicating she had run all the way there.

"Detective, it's an emergency!" Sarah gasped, waving a freshly printed document in her hand. "Our informant just reported that Blackwood is preparing to flee!"

Lynn immediately stood up from his chair, took the document, and quickly scanned it. The document detailed Blackwood's unusual activities over the past 24 hours: large sums of money transferred, his private jet applying for flight permits, and frequent comings and goings at his mansion.

“Damn it!” Lynn cursed, slamming his hand on the table, making the coffee cup rattle. “He must have realized we have evidence of his funding of the Human Purity Organization. Sarah, contact airport control immediately and prevent any aircraft registered under Blackwood’s name from taking off!”

Sarah nodded in agreement and immediately picked up the phone on the table to dial. Lynn, on the other hand, strode to the coat rack by the wall, grabbed his dark blue trench coat, and draped it over his shoulders. Inside the coat's inner pocket was his Glock 19 pistol, his most trusted companion of many years.

“Detective, the airport says Blackwood’s private plane received clearance an hour ago, bound for Zurich,” Sarah reported after hanging up the phone, “but they can cancel the clearance immediately.”

“Good. Now contact all the patrol cars at the intersections. Blackwood is likely on his way to the airport. What kind of car is he driving?” Lynn said, checking his equipment.

“According to DMV records, he owns three cars: a black Bentley Mulsanne, a silver Mercedes-Benz S-Class, and a red Ferrari 488.” Sarah quickly flipped through the documents in her hand.

Lynn frowned. "Given Blackwood's personality, he won't choose a flashy car. I bet he'll drive that Mercedes. Sarah, you take the support team to JFK Airport immediately. I'm going to his mansion to check things out."

“Understood, Inspector!” Sarah responded, her young face filled with determination.

Lynn strode out of the office, the sound of his high heels echoing down the corridor. The tense atmosphere emanating from him permeated the entire FBI building. When the elevator doors opened, several agents were already waiting inside.

“Gentlemen, urgent mission,” Lynn said succinctly. “Blackwood is preparing to flee; we must capture him before he boards the plane.”

The air in the elevator instantly became heavy. Everyone knew the importance of the Blackwood case. This Wall Street tycoon, outwardly a respected financier, was actually the mastermind behind the Pure Human organization, secretly funding violent operations against mutants. In the past few months, more than a dozen mutants had died in mysterious attacks, and the evidence Lynn had gathered pointed directly to Blackwood.

Stepping out of the FBI building, the streets of Manhattan were already bustling. Morning traffic was relatively smooth, but Lynn knew time was of the essence. He hurried to the parking lot, where his black Dodge Challenger was parked; its engine had been specially modified for maximum performance during a chase.

The engine roared to life, the V8 engine revving through the parking lot. Lynn skillfully maneuvered the steering wheel, and the car shot out of the parking lot like an arrow, disappearing into the streets of Manhattan.

The Blackwood mansion was a detached house on the Upper East Side, a historic and affluent neighborhood. Lynn had conducted surveillance there many times before and knew the surroundings intimately. Cars sped through the streets, Lynn's eyes constantly scanning for any potential targets.

As he turned onto the street leading to Blackwood Mansion, he immediately noticed something amiss. Normally the street would be quiet at this time, but now several unfamiliar vehicles were parked nearby. More importantly, the gate to Blackwood Mansion was open, and several men in black suits were carrying suitcases out.

Lynn immediately stopped the car and picked up the car radio.

"Calling headquarters, this is Detective Lynn. The target is moving, requesting immediate backup!"

Sarah's voice came through the radio: "Roger that, Inspector! The support team is on their way to your location and should arrive in five minutes."

“Five minutes might be too late,” Lynn muttered. He could see the people were moving quickly, clearly in an emergency evacuation. He made a decision, “I’ll go up and check things out first.”

Lynn got out of the car and made sure his pistol was cocked. He advanced cautiously along the street, using parked vehicles as cover. The mansion was surrounded by dense bushes, providing him with excellent concealment.

As he approached the mansion, he could see the people's movements more clearly. A tall man was directing the moving work, his voice low and urgent:

"Hurry up, the boss said everything has to be loaded within ten minutes! Prioritize loading those document boxes!"

Lynn recognized the voice; it was Tony Malcolm, Blackwood's personal bodyguard and confidant. The former Marine had worked for Blackwood for over a decade and was utterly loyal to him.

Just then, the front door of the mansion opened again, and a tall, slender man stepped out. Even from a distance, Lynn could recognize him at a glance as James Blackwood. The fifty-two-year-old Wall Street tycoon wore a custom-made dark gray suit, his silver hair meticulously combed; even in the crucial moment of his escape, he maintained his elegant demeanor.

Blackwood's face showed no panic, but rather a calm decisiveness. He was carrying a black briefcase, which likely contained the most important documents or funds.

“Tony, is the car ready?” Blackwood’s voice remained steady and strong even under these circumstances.

“Yes, boss. The Mercedes is up and running, and the route is planned. We’ll take the back road and avoid the main streets,” Tony reported.

“Very good. Remember, if you encounter any obstacles, don't linger. Our goal is to reach the airport safely.” Blackwood said, his eyes scanning the surroundings, a cunning glint in his icy blue eyes.

Lynn knew he had to act. He drew his pistol from his waist, took a deep breath, and shouted:
"FBI! Everyone, cease all movement immediately and raise your hands!"

A tense silence instantly fell around the mansion. Blackwood and his men stopped what they were doing and turned their gazes toward Lynn.

Blackwood gave a cold laugh. "Detective Lynn, I knew you'd come. You're quite the persistent one."

“Blackwood, you’re under arrest!” Lynn shouted, cautiously emerging from behind cover, his pistol still pointed at the target. “Charges include financing terrorism and murder!” (End of Chapter)