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

“Agent Holt,” Brady greeted Lynn with a handshake, “thank you for getting here so quickly.”

"How's the situation?" Lynn asked, getting straight to the point.

“It’s stable for now, but fragile,” Brady said, pointing to the main factory building. “The workers are inside, management is on the third floor. There’s no further conflict, but there’s also no communication. The workers have set up roadblocks in the lobby on the first floor, preventing anyone from entering or leaving.”

Lynn observed the factory's layout. The main building was a four-story concrete structure with few windows, but it looked very sturdy. The glass door on the first floor had been smashed, revealing a roadblock made of tables, chairs, and miscellaneous items piled up inside.

“Has anyone tried to communicate?” Lynn asked.

“I tried using a megaphone,” Brady said, “but the workers didn’t trust the police. They thought we were on the boss’s side. Several men leaned out of their windows and shouted that they wouldn’t leave unless the boss came out and gave them an explanation.”

"Where's the boss? On the third floor?"

“The plant manager’s name is Robert Sinclair, and he’s in his office on the third floor,” Brady said. “I contacted him by phone. He was very tough, saying the workers were illegally trespassing on private property and demanding we forcibly clear the site.”

“Typical capitalist thinking,” Lynn commented. “They never understand why the workers are so angry.”

“Indeed,” Brady agreed, “but the problem is, legally, the workers are breaking the law. They’ve trespassed, damaged property, and some may be armed. If this drags on too long, the state will require us to take action.”

“I understand,” Lynn said, “but we need to solve this intelligently, not simply by enforcing the law. Give me fifteen minutes to observe the situation.”

Lynn approached the police cordon and carefully observed the factory's main building. He noticed that a window on the second floor was open, and several figures were moving inside. He could also see many people in the lobby on the first floor, talking and moving around. They didn't look like a well-organized thug, but rather like a group of confused and angry ordinary people.

Suddenly, a side door next to the factory gate opened. A young man, about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, wearing work clothes and with dirt on his face, stepped out, his expression resolute. He stood in the doorway, raising his hands to indicate that he was unarmed.

“I want to talk to you!” the young man shouted, his voice echoing across the empty square.

Brady immediately tensed up. "Everyone, stay alert!"

But Lynn noticed that the young man's body language was not aggressive. His hands were raised slowly, and his eyes, while firm, were not fierce. This was someone who wanted to communicate, not someone who wanted to create more conflict.

“Wait,” Lynn stopped Brady, “Let me go talk to him.”

“It’s too dangerous,” Brady objected. “We don’t know how many other people inside have guns.”

“That’s precisely why we need to communicate,” Lynn insisted. “If we don’t even give them a chance to talk, the situation will only worsen.”

Brady hesitated for a moment, then finally nodded. "Okay, but be careful. I'll have a sniper cover you."

Lynn took off his holster and handed it to the policeman next to him. "I'm not bringing a weapon."

“What?” Brady was shocked.

“Trust is a two-way street,” Lynn explained. “If I went there with a gun, they would see me as a threat.”

Before Brady could object again, Lynn had already crossed the cordon and walked towards the young man. His steps were steady, and his hands were raised to indicate that he meant no harm.

The young man saw Lynn approach and a look of surprise flashed across his face, but he quickly maintained a wary posture.

“I’m FBI Agent Lynn Hall,” Lynn stopped about ten meters away from the young man, “I’m here to help resolve this.”

"The FBI?" the young man sneered. "The Federal Bureau of Investigation is meddling in the affairs of us lowly workers?"

“Because someone used a gun, this has become a federal case,” Lynn said truthfully. “But I’m not here to arrest anyone; I’m here to hear what you have to say.”

The young man stared at Lynn for a few seconds, seemingly assessing his sincerity. "My name is Jack Morrison. I've worked in this factory for seven years, since I graduated high school. Now they say they're closing it down and won't even pay us our wages. Do you think that's fair?"

“It’s unfair,” Lynn answered directly, without hesitation. “You have the right to your wages.”

Jack clearly hadn't expected Lynn to side with the workers so directly; his expression softened slightly. "But the police don't see it that way. They just want to kick us out."

“The police’s job is to maintain order, but that doesn’t mean they don’t understand you,” Lynn said. “Chief Brady just told me that he doesn’t want to use force either. He knows you’re not bad people, you’ve just been pushed to the limit.”

"Where's the boss? Where's that bastard Sinclair?" Jack's anger resurfaced. "He's hiding inside, too scared to come out and face us!"

“I know,” Lynn said. “If I could, I’d like to go in and talk to all of you. Let me help you communicate with management and find a solution.”

“A solution?” Jack smiled wryly. “Our solution is simple—give us our wages and don’t shut down the factory. But they won’t agree.”

“We might not agree to everything, but at least we can negotiate,” Lynn said. “It’s better than this standoff. You’re trapped inside, the management is trapped upstairs, and the police are trapped outside. Nobody benefits, but everyone suffers.”

Jack fell silent, clearly pondering Lynn's words. Just then, a commotion arose from the factory, seemingly an argument.

"What's going on inside?" Lynn asked warily.

“Some people are furious and want more radical action,” Jack said worriedly. “I’ve been trying to calm them down, but I don’t know how long I can keep them calm. There’s been a suggestion to take management hostage and use them to threaten company headquarters.”

“That would be a serious mistake,” Lynn said gravely. “Once it becomes a hostage situation, the nature of the situation changes completely. Not only will you not get your wages, but you will all face felony charges.”

“I know, I fucking know!” Jack exclaimed, “But you don’t understand how desperate people here are! There are no other jobs in this town besides this factory. Most of us have mortgages, car loans, and kids to support. Losing this job, losing these two months’ wages, will bankrupt many families!”

Lynn could sense the pain and helplessness in Jack's voice. This wasn't someone who wanted to cause trouble; this was someone fighting for survival.

“I understand, Jack,” Lynn said sincerely. “I’ve seen this many times. Workers put in the labor but don’t get the pay they deserve. That’s wrong, and I’ll do my best to help you. But you need to help me—help me convince the people inside to let me in and talk to them.”

Jack looked at Lynn, his eyes flashing with complex emotions—doubt, hope, despair, and anger, all mixed together.

"You really will help us?" Jack finally asked, his voice tinged with a humble plea.

“I promise,” Lynn said, “I can’t guarantee I’ll solve all the problems, but I promise I’ll do everything I can.”

Just then, a scream suddenly erupted from the factory, followed by more noise. Jack's face changed drastically. "Damn it, they're fighting!" Jack turned and ran back.

Lynn realized something was wrong and immediately followed. Behind him came Chief Brady's shout, "Hall! Come back!"

But Lynn didn't stop; he knew that the most important thing now was to prevent the situation inside from getting worse.

Rushing into the factory lobby, Lynn witnessed a chaotic scene. About forty or fifty workers were gathered in the lobby, divided into two groups. One group was relatively calm and tried to dissuade the other. The other group, about a dozen people, was clearly more radical; they were shouting at the top of the stairs leading to the third floor.

"We should bring those bastards down!" shouted a burly man with a full beard. "Let them taste our anger!"

“No, this will only make things worse!” an older worker tried to dissuade them. “We just want what we deserve, not to do anything illegal!”

"Illegal? Aren't they breaking the law by withholding wages?" another person retorted.

Jack immediately rushed over and stood between the two groups. "Everyone, calm down! I just spoke with the FBI agent outside, and he said he's willing to help us!"

"The FBI?" the bearded man sneered. "Government dogs can help us? Don't be naive!"

“He’s different,” Jack insisted. “He acknowledges that our demands are reasonable. Give him a chance!”

"Opportunities? How many opportunities did we give the company?" the bearded man said angrily. "We waited two months, waiting for them to pay our salaries. And what did we get? They just announced the factory was shutting down!"

Just as the argument was escalating, a loud crash came from the third floor, as if something had been smashed. Everyone stopped and looked warily towards the staircase.

Then, a voice came from upstairs, filled with panic, "Security! Security!"

"They're trying to escape!" the bearded man shouted immediately. "Don't let them get away!"

Several radical workers immediately rushed towards the stairs. Jack tried to stop them, shouting, "Don't do this!"

Lynn realized the situation was rapidly spiraling out of control. He strode towards the crowd and shouted in a loud voice, "Everyone, stop!"

His voice was full of authority, and everyone in the hall turned to look at this stranger who had suddenly appeared.

“I am FBI Agent Lynn Hall,” Lynn said quickly. “I understand your anger and desperation. You have the right to fight for yourselves. But if you rush in now and take management hostage, you will go from being victims to criminals.”

"We don't care!" the bearded man roared. "We have nothing left to lose anyway!"

“You have,” Lynn stared at him, “you have freedom, you have families, you have futures. Once you commit a serious crime, you’ll lose all of that.”

“What are we supposed to do?” a female worker asked, crying. “Just watch them escape, watch us lose everything?”

“No,” Lynn said, “you let me talk to management. I’ll make them come down and face you. If they refuse, I’ll have the police outside take them out and open a case against them for unpaid wages.”

"Can you do it?" someone questioned.

“I can,” Lynn said firmly, “but you need to give me time, give me a chance for a peaceful resolution.”

Jack stood next to Lynn. "Listen to him, everyone! He's here to help us!"

“Jack, you’re too naive,” the bearded man said. “They’re all in cahoots.”

“I’m not,” Lynn looked directly at the bearded man. “My job is to uphold justice, and justice is more than just the law. The law says you’re trespassing, but humanity says you’re fighting for survival. I understand that distinction.”

At this critical moment, a gunshot suddenly rang out from the third floor.

The entire hall erupted into chaos. Workers screamed, dropped to the ground, and rushed towards the stairs. Lynn's trained instincts kicked in immediately; he yelled, "Everyone, hold your ground!"

But it was too late. Several radical workers had already rushed up the stairs. Jack tried to follow them to stop them, and Lynn immediately followed.

The second floor was the office area, with narrow corridors lined with various offices on both sides. The workers who had rushed up were already at the third-floor stairwell. Lynn and Jack followed closely behind.

Upon reaching the third floor, Lynn saw that the door to a large office at the end of the corridor was open; it must be the factory manager's office. Several men in security uniforms stood in the doorway, holding batons and walkie-talkies, looking very tense.

"Back off!" shouted a man who appeared to be a security captain. "If you come any closer, we'll shoot!"

"Who fired the shot?" Jack shouted. "Who just fired the shot?"

"It was an accidental discharge!" the security captain replied. "It was an accident!"

But this explanation did not calm the situation. The workers who rushed forward clearly did not believe it and continued to approach.

Lynn strode to the front, standing between the workers and security guards. "I'm an FBI agent! Everyone, drop your weapons and stop resisting!"

"Get out of the way!" The bearded man shoved Lynn. "This is none of your business!"

“Of course this concerns me,” Lynn insisted, “If you continue like this, someone will die.”

In the midst of this tense standoff, a trembling voice came from inside the office, "I am Robert Sinclair. I am willing to come out and talk."

Everyone stopped what they were doing. The office door opened wide, and a man in his fifties walked out. He was wearing a suit, but his tie was askew, and he was pale, clearly terrified.

“I’m willing to talk to you,” Sinclair repeated, “but please don’t hurt anyone.”

Jack stepped forward, his voice filled with suppressed anger. "Now you're willing to talk? When we're forced to resort to violence?"

“I’ve always wanted to talk to you,” Sinclair said, but his voice lacked conviction, “but there’s nothing I can do about the decisions made by headquarters.”

"Then let's get someone from company headquarters!" a worker shouted. (End of Chapter)