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

Lynn glanced at the clock on the wall; it was 5:50. He knew he had no choice but to obey the court's order.

“Notify the interrogation room to prepare for Blackwood’s release,” Lynn said gravely. “At the same time, increase surveillance on him to ensure he does not violate the court’s orders.”

Ten minutes later, James Blackwood emerged from the FBI headquarters building, accompanied by Benjamin Harrison. Despite a day of detention and interrogation, the Wall Street tycoon maintained his elegant demeanor. He straightened his suit and flashed a confident smile at the waiting media reporters.

When the protesters outside saw Blackwood appear, they immediately erupted in cheers. Shouts of "We won!", "Justice has been served!", and "Protect human rights!" echoed throughout the crowd.

Benjamin Harrison stepped to the microphone and began his victory speech: “Ladies and gentlemen, as I promised, Mr. James Blackwood has regained his freedom in three hours. This proves the fairness of our legal system and the importance of the presumption of innocence. Mr. Blackwood is a hero who fought to protect ordinary American citizens, and he should not be persecuted because of political correctness.”

The crowd erupted in applause again, and many began chanting Blackwood's name. Blackwood himself stepped forward to the microphone; his voice, though somewhat tired, remained authoritative.

“Thank you for your support,” Blackwood said to the crowd. “Today’s experience demonstrates just how serious the challenges we face. The authorities are trying to silence our voices with trumped-up charges and prevent us from fighting for the rights of ordinary human beings. But justice will ultimately prevail, and truth will ultimately triumph over lies.”

Standing at the window of the building, Lynn watched all this, his heart filled with mixed emotions. He could see the joy on the faces of the victims' families, and he could also see the disappointment and anger on the faces of the mutant rights activists. This case was far from over; in fact, it had become even more complicated.

Jane Gray and her supporters did not leave; they held up more signs on the other side of the street, reading "Don't let hatred win" and "Delayed justice is a lack of justice." The antagonism between the two groups remains, and a larger conflict could erupt at any moment.

Sarah walked over to Lynn and said softly, "Detective, perhaps this is just a temporary setback. We still have a month to prepare for the hearing and gather more evidence."

Lynn nodded, but his expression remained somber. “I know, Sarah. But look at those people outside, look at the expressions on their faces. We’ve lost more than just a suspect; we’ve lost people’s faith in justice.”

“No, Inspector,” Sarah said firmly, “you have lost nothing. You are fighting for the right thing, and that is more important than anything else.”

Lynn gave Sarah a grateful look, then turned and left the command center. He needed time to think, and space to process everything that had happened that day.

As Lynn left the FBI building, he tried to avoid the media and crowds. He exited through a side door and hurried towards the parking lot. Night was falling, and the streetlights of Manhattan began to illuminate the city. The city remained bustling, but to Lynn, everything felt heavy.

Thirty minutes later, Lynn's car pulled up in front of a two-story house in a quiet residential area of ​​Brooklyn. This was his home, or more precisely, his adoptive father George's home. Although Lynn was thirty-eight years old and had his own apartment, he always returned here whenever he encountered difficulties.

Lynn unlocked the front door, and a familiar, warm atmosphere immediately enveloped him. The sound of a television came from the living room, and the aroma of cooking wafted from the kitchen. These ordinary, homely scents always calmed Lynn's heart.

“Lynn? Is that you?” George’s voice came from the living room, with a concerned tone.

“It’s me, George,” Lynn replied, taking off his trench coat and hanging it on the hanger by the door before walking into the living room.

“You look terrible, kid,” George said, turning off the TV and scrutinizing Lynn. “What happened?”

Lynn slumped heavily onto the sofa, burying his face in his hands. "There's a problem with the Blackwood case, George. We arrested him this morning, had plenty of evidence, but he was released three hours later."

George frowned. "What's going on? Is the evidence insufficient?"

“No, the evidence is overwhelming,” Lynn said dejectedly, “but his lawyer, Benjamin Harrison, exploited a loophole in the legal process and successfully obtained a habeas corpus for him. The judge ruled that our evidence requires further verification and is insufficient to continue his detention.”

George was silent for a moment, then got up and went to the kitchen to pour Lynn a glass of whiskey. He handed the glass to Lynn and then sat down in the chair opposite him.

“Lynn, I’ve been a police officer for thirty years and have dealt with all sorts of cases,” George’s voice was calm and wise. “Sometimes, bad guys exploit the laws we establish to protect the innocent to escape punishment. It’s frustrating, but it’s the price a society governed by the rule of law must pay.”

Lynn took a sip of whiskey, the burning sensation of the alcohol bringing him slightly more sober. "But what about the mutants who died? What about their families? What will happen to them?"

“Their suffering is real, and they deserve justice,” George said. “But Lynn, remember, justice sometimes comes slowly, but it always does. Your failure today is not the end, but a new beginning.”

“I don’t know, George,” Lynn shook his head. “Today I saw the eyes of those victims’ families, their pain and anger. I also saw the disappointment and despair of mutant rights activists. I felt caught in the middle, pleasing neither side.”

George got up and walked to the window, looking out at the dark street. "Lynn, do you remember why I adopted you?"

Lynn looked up at the old man who had raised him for twenty-five years. "Because you are a good person, because you believe every child should have a home."

“It’s not just that,” George turned to Lynn. “After you lost your parents, many people said mutants were too dangerous and shouldn’t live with ordinary people. But what I saw was a child who had lost everything, a child who needed love and care. I adopted you not because I’m a saint, but because I believe that if we abandon compassion, abandon respect for all life, then we lose our meaning as human beings.”

Tears welled in Lynn's eyes. "But things are different now, George. Society is more divided, and the hatred has deepened. I don't know what I can do anymore."

George walked back to Lynn and placed his hand on his shoulder. “Son, remember why you became an FBI agent. Not for power, not for fame, but to protect the innocent, to uphold justice. Whether mutant or ordinary, victim or the wronged, they all need someone to stand up for them.” “But today I failed,” Lynn said bitterly. “Blackwood is free, those who supported him feel they’ve won, and the mutants feel betrayed.”

“Failure is part of success, Lynn,” George said, sitting back in his chair. “I remember one case from my first year as a police officer that I still remember vividly. A twelve-year-old girl was kidnapped, and we searched for her for three whole days without success. When we finally found her, she was dead. I felt like a complete failure, and I even considered quitting.”

"And then?" Lynn asked.

"Then my old partner told me that if I gave up because of one failure, then this girl's death would have been in vain. But if I continued to fight, continued to strive for justice, then her death would at least have meaning, because it would inspire me to save other children."

Lynn remained silent for a long time, pondering George's words. The streets outside were quiet, with the occasional car passing by, its headlights casting moving shadows on the curtains.

“George, do you think there’s any hope for this society?” Lynn finally asked. “The hatred between mutants and ordinary people seems to be growing deeper, with people like Blackwood exploiting it for support, while people like me who try to uphold justice are misunderstood by both sides.”

George smiled, a smile full of wisdom and love. “Lynn, when we adopted you, many people told me it was a mistake. They said an ordinary person could never understand the world of mutants, that you would grow up to be dangerous. But look at you now, you've become an excellent FBI agent, someone who fights for the rights of all. If we had no hope, you wouldn't exist.”

“But those people outside, they’re blinded by hatred,” Lynn said.

“Yes, some people are blinded by hatred,” George acknowledged, “but many others remain rational and compassionate. Remember, the loudest voice doesn’t necessarily represent the majority’s thoughts. Most people want peaceful coexistence and want their children to grow up in a world without fear.”

Just then, George's phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID and answered it.

"Hello? What? Okay, I understand, thank you for telling me." George hung up the phone, his expression turning serious.

"What's wrong?" Lynn asked.

“That’s my old colleague Mike, he works for the NYPD now,” George said. “He told me there were a lot of supporters gathered around the Blackwood mansion tonight, they were having a celebration. Meanwhile, there were also some protests in the mutant-populated areas, so things were a bit tense.”

Lynn immediately stood up. "I have to go back to work; there might be trouble."

“Wait, Lynn,” George stopped him, “you’re not in the right state to work. You need rest, you need to think calmly. There are other agents handling the situation; you don’t need to do everything yourself.”

“But what if a conflict breaks out? What if someone gets hurt?” Lynn asked anxiously.

“If you approach conflict with this kind of emotion, you’ll only make things worse,” George wisely stated. “A good leader knows when to charge and when to retreat and reorganize. Now is the time for you to reorganize.”

Lynn looked at the old man who had raised him for twenty-five years and finally nodded. He knew George was right; his current emotional state was indeed not suitable for handling complex situations.

“Stay here tonight,” George suggested. “You can start again tomorrow morning with a clearer head. Remember, this battle isn’t over yet, and you have many more opportunities to prove yourself.”

Lynn sat back down on the sofa. "Thank you, George. I don't know what I would do without you."

“You never need to worry about that, son,” George said gently, “because I will always be here to support you, just as I was twenty-five years ago.”

At 7:30 a.m. the next morning, Lynn Hall appeared on time in the elevator of the FBI headquarters in Manhattan. He was wearing a neatly pressed dark blue suit and a perfectly tied tie, and his face showed none of the fatigue and frustration he had displayed the day before. On the contrary, he looked energetic and his eyes were firm, as if the release of Blackwood the day before had never happened.

When the elevator doors opened, the early-arriving agents were somewhat surprised to see Lynn. They had expected that after yesterday's setback, Lynn would at least take a few days off to adjust his mood, or at least appear exceptionally angry and impatient. But the person in front of them was completely unexpected.

“Good morning, Inspector,” the young Inspector Tom Wilson greeted him tentatively. Tom was a new agent, having graduated from academy three months ago, and yesterday’s events had been a huge shock to him.

“Good morning, Tom,” Lynn replied calmly. “How are you feeling today? Ready for new challenges?”

Tom looked a little confused. "Uh, yes, Inspector. I'm ready."

Lynn walked toward his office, encountering more colleagues along the way. Everyone looked at him with complicated expressions, seemingly trying to guess his true thoughts. Some wanted to comfort him, others wanted to express their anger, but Lynn's calm demeanor left them speechless.

Pushing open the office door, Lynn saw Sarah already waiting for him inside. She was sitting in the visitor's chair, holding a stack of documents, and looked very worried.

“Detective, you’re here early,” Sarah said, standing up. “I thought you meant what happened yesterday.”

“Yesterday is over, Sarah,” Lynn interrupted her, taking off his coat and hanging it on a hanger. “Today is a new day, we have new work to do. Give me an update on the progress of the other cases.” (End of Chapter)