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

“We now have enough evidence to arrest all those involved,” Sarah said.

“Yes,” Lynn agreed, “Mark Darwin, Victor Gray, Robert Carlson, and Ray Thompson.”

"Is Ray going to be arrested too?" Emily asked.

“He took money and deliberately instigated violence,” Lynn said. “Although he was also a victim, his actions constitute complicity. However, given his subordinate position, the prosecutor may give him a lenient sentence.”

Lynn immediately called Supervisor Jensen to report the situation.

“Well done, Lynn,” Jason said. “I’ll arrange the arrest warrant immediately. But be careful, these guys have a very strong legal team.”

“This time is different,” Lynn said. “We have hard evidence—notebooks, emails, internal memos, tainted witnesses. This isn’t circumstantial evidence that can be defended or reinterpreted; this is direct, clear evidence of the crime.”

“Then let’s act immediately,” Jason said. “I will coordinate with the NYPD and state troopers to arrest all suspects simultaneously.”

Two hours later, the arrest warrant was approved. Lynn led a team to Mark Darwin's residence—an upscale apartment building in the city center. FBI agents surrounded the building, ensuring he could not escape.

Lynn and Sarah went straight up to Mark's apartment floor. When they knocked, Mark opened the door and saw the FBI agents. A flicker of panic crossed his face, but he quickly regained his composure.

“Agent Holt, we meet again,” Mark said, trying to remain calm. “Do you have a search warrant?”

“Better than a search warrant,” Lynn said. “We have an arrest warrant. Mark Darwin, you’re arrested on charges including conspiracy, fraud, sedition, and aiding and abetting corporate crime.”

“This is harassment,” Mark said. “My lawyer will—”

“Your lawyer can’t help you this time,” Lynn interrupted, pulling out the dark brown notebook. “We found this.”

Mark's face turned deathly pale when he saw the notebook. "Where did you come from—"

“From Warehouse 3,” Lynn said, “you forgot to take it with you when you left. It contained a detailed record of the entire conspiracy. Add to that the testimony of our tainted witness, Paul Jenkins, and internal documents from Greystone Capital, and we have a complete chain of evidence.”

Mark's defenses completely crumbled. He knew he couldn't escape this time.

“Turn around and put your hands behind your back,” Sarah commanded.

Mark did as he was told, and Lynn handcuffed him.

“You have the right to remain silent,” Lynn began reading Miranda’s rights, “and everything you say can be used against you in court.”

At the same time, at Greystone Capital's Manhattan headquarters, another team of FBI agents was arresting Victor Gray and Robert Carlson. The two were handcuffed in their office and taken away in front of shocked employees.

In the small town of Hudson, Ray Thompson was also arrested at his home. When police presented him with evidence—a notebook recording $2 in “operational coordination fees”—he broke down and admitted that Mark had indeed given him money to “lead” the riots.

That afternoon, Lynn took all the suspects to the FBI's New York field office. They were held separately in different cells. Lynn interrogated Mark Darwin first.

This time, Mark was no longer arrogant. His lawyer, James Carter, was also present, but even this top lawyer seemed powerless in the face of overwhelming evidence.

“Mr. Darwin,” Lynn laid out the notebook, printed emails, and internal memos on the table, “these are evidence of your conspiracy with Graystone Capital. I suggest you cooperate; this may be your only chance to mitigate your sentence.”

Mark stared at the evidence in silence for a long time. Finally, he turned to his lawyer, "How much evidence do they have?"

Attorney Carter gave a wry smile. "That's enough for a conviction. And a serious crime at that."

“What will I get if I cooperate?” Mark asked Lynn.

“It depends on the value of the information you provide,” Lynn said. “If you give a full account, including other similar operations by Greystone Capital, the prosecutor may consider a plea agreement, which could reduce your sentence by a few years.”

Mark paused for a moment, then said, "I want the full waiver agreement."

“Impossible,” Lynn refused outright. “The damage you’ve caused is too great. At most, there might be a plea agreement to reduce your sentence, but a complete exemption is impossible.”

“Then I want the detailed terms,” Mark said. “I won’t give out anything without guarantees.”

“I will discuss this with the prosecutor,” Lynn said, “but I can tell you that the consequences of non-cooperation will be more serious.”

Victor Gray and Robert Carlson were formally charged with conspiracy, fraud, market manipulation, and corporate crime. Their legal teams attempted to secure bail, but this time, faced with overwhelming evidence and the severity of the offenses, the judge denied their bail application.

"Taking into account the defendant's financial resources, international connections, and potential flight risk," the judge stated at the bail hearing, "in addition, considering the nature of the crime and its serious social impact, this court denies the bail application. The defendant will remain in custody pending trial."

Lynn sat in the courtroom gallery and, upon hearing the verdict, finally breathed a sigh of relief. This time, justice had not been bought with money.

After the court hearing, Lynn ran into Prosecutor Emily Chan outside the courthouse—the labor law expert he had contacted earlier. She had taken on the case and was preparing to file charges.

“Agent Hall, well done,” Emily said. “This is one of the most complete chains of evidence I’ve ever seen.”

“It’s the result of teamwork,” Lynn said modestly. “What do you think the trial will be like?”

“With such compelling evidence, I expect they will seek a plea bargain,” Emily said. “But even if they do plead guilty, given the severity of the crimes, they will face heavy sentences. Victor Gray and Robert Carlson will get at least ten to fifteen years, and Mark Darwin eight to ten.”

“What about those workers who were exploited?” Lynn asked with concern.

“Most of them won’t be prosecuted,” Emily said. “They are victims. Only Ray Thompson will face charges for being paid to cooperate, but given his subordinate position, he will likely receive probation and community service.”

“That’s fair,” Lynn said.

That evening, Lynn went to the hospital to visit Jack. Jack's condition continued to improve; he could now sit up, and his face had regained its color. "I heard you caught them," Jack said, a look of relief in his eyes, "and they won't be allowed bail."

“Yes,” Lynn said, “the clues you provided were crucial. The notebook, the warehouse, Paul—these clues helped us find all the evidence.”

“What about those workers who were exploited?” Jack asked, clearly his biggest concern.

“You won’t be prosecuted,” Lynn assured him. “The prosecutor will recognize you as victims. The real perpetrators will receive the punishment they deserve.”

Tears welled up in Jack's eyes. "Thank you. Thank you for not giving up, thank you for fighting for justice for us."

“It’s what I should do,” Lynn said. “You’re the real hero, Jack. You risked your life to tell the truth, and your courage saved many people.”

“I just did the right thing,” Jack said.

“Sometimes, it takes the greatest courage to do the right thing,” Lynn said. “Take good care of yourself, and when you’re better, maybe we can go fishing together.”

Jack smiled. "I'll remember that."

At 10:30 p.m., Lynn finally ended his long day. He left the office only after confirming that all suspects were properly detained and all evidence was securely filed. Exhaustion washed over him, but deep down he felt a sense of satisfaction—justice had been served, and the exploited workers had received their due.

Lynn's apartment was located in a quiet neighborhood in Brooklyn, in a pre-war converted residential building. He liked it because it was relatively quiet, and his neighbors were all ordinary working-class people who wouldn't overly scrutinize each other's lives.

Lynn parked the car in a street-side parking space, picked up her briefcase, and locked the car door. The street was quiet, with only the occasional sound of a car engine in the distance. The streetlights cast a dim, yellowish light, creating circles of light on the sidewalk.

Lynn walked toward the apartment building entrance and took his key out of his pocket. Just as he was about to insert the key into the lock, a well-trained instinct made him sense something was amiss—a subtle tension in the air, like the calm before a storm.

His hand froze in mid-air, his body tensed, and all his senses were focused.

Then he heard—very faint, almost imperceptible footsteps—coming from the alley behind him. Not the footsteps of ordinary passersby, but the deliberately light footsteps of a predator approaching its prey.

Lynn didn't turn around, but pretended to continue opening the door while observing his back through the reflection in the glass. A figure emerged from the shadows of the alley, of medium build, wearing a dark hoodie pulled low, obscuring the face.

They were about fifteen feet away and rapidly approaching.

Lynn's hand quietly moved towards the holster at his waist, but at that moment, the figure suddenly accelerated, at an abnormally fast speed—a speed that ordinary people could not achieve.

Mutants.

Lynn reacted instantly, turning sharply and drawing his pistol, but the other person was already inches away. A hand reached out with astonishing speed and precisely grabbed Lynn's wrist. The strength of that hand was astonishing; Lynn felt as if the bones in his wrist were about to be crushed.

The attacker's other hand formed a fist, aimed straight at Lynn's face. Lynn barely managed to dodge by turning his head; the fist grazed his ear and struck the door behind him with a dull thud. The wood on the doorframe cracked, demonstrating that the attacker's strength far exceeded that of an ordinary person.

Superhuman strength and speed—this is an enhanced mutant.

Taking advantage of the moment his opponent threw a punch, Lynn struck his opponent's abdomen with his other elbow. An ordinary person would bend over and fall to the ground after such a blow, but this attacker only took a slight half-step back.

"Damn it," Lynn cursed inwardly.

He abandoned the gun—in this close-quarters combat, a gun would be a hindrance, and his opponent was too fast for him to aim and fire. Lynn released the pistol, letting it fall to the ground, then used his gripped wrist as a fulcrum to spin his entire body and kick his opponent in the head.

The attacker was forced to release Lynn's wrist and leaped backward, moving with the agility of a cat. The distance between them increased, and Lynn finally had a chance to see his opponent clearly.

The hoodie's hood had slipped down slightly during the struggle, revealing part of his face. He was a man in his thirties with a scar on his face and cold, focused eyes—the eyes of a professional assassin.

"Who are you?" Lynn asked, adjusting his breathing as he assessed his opponent.

The other person didn't answer, but charged again. This time Lynn was prepared. He dodged the frontal attack by sidestepping, and at the same time grabbed the other person's arm, trying to throw him down using judo techniques.

But the opponent's strength was too great. Although Lynn's technique was precise, the laws of physics could not be ignored. The opponent only staggered for a moment before regaining his balance and then throwing a backhand punch at Lynn's chest.

Lynn managed to raise his arms to defend himself, but the immense force sent him staggering back, his back slamming against the wall. A sharp pain shot through his chest—at least several ribs were fractured.

The attacker gave Lynn no chance to catch his breath, immediately following up with a knee aimed at Lynn's abdomen. Lynn twisted his body at the last moment, deflecting the attack away from vital areas, but the knee still slammed heavily into his side.

The pain blurred Lynn's vision for a moment, but he knew that if he was suppressed like this, he would die.

He had to change tactics. In a pure contest of strength, he had no advantage. But he had experience, skill, and an understanding of human weaknesses—even mutants have vulnerabilities in certain areas.

When his opponent swung again, Lynn stopped trying to block and instead moved forward to meet the punch, getting close enough to deprive the opponent of space to generate force. At the same time, his fingers precisely jabbed at the opponent's eyes.

The attacker instinctively tilted his head to dodge, and Lynn seized the opportunity to headbutt the attacker's nose. The blow finally had an effect—the attacker let out a muffled groan, and blood began to flow from his nose.

Lynn seized the opportunity, launching a series of knee strikes at his opponent's groin—one of the most vulnerable parts of the human body, from which even mutants are not entirely immune. The first attack was blocked by his opponent's thigh, but the second struck.

The attacker's movements slowed noticeably for a moment, and Lynn immediately seized the opportunity to break away from close combat, quickly retreating to create distance.

Both were panting. Lynn wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth—his lip had been cut during the struggle. He could feel a sharp pain in his chest; each breath felt like a knife cutting into him.

"Who sent you?" Lynn asked again, this time in a more authoritative voice.

The attacker remained silent, but a flicker of hesitation crossed his eyes. Clearly, Lynn's resistance had exceeded his expectations. Perhaps he had thought assassinating an ordinary FBI agent would be easy, but now he found his opponent far more formidable than he had imagined.

“Do you know the consequences of attacking a federal agent?” Lynn continued, trying to sway the other’s resolve. “The FBI will use all its resources to hunt you down. No matter who you are, no matter where you hide, we will find you.” (End of Chapter)