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

“All units in position,” Sarah’s voice came through the headset. “Lynn, are you sure you want to do this?”

“I'm sure,” Lynn replied in a low voice. “Remember, don't act prematurely. Wait until he's completely trapped before closing in.”

For the past two days, Lynn's team has been tracking Cruz's drug supply chain. As intelligence provided by the Xavier's School indicates, Cruz needs regular injections of a compound called "Enhancer" to maintain his superhuman abilities. This drug is extremely rare, with only three black market suppliers in all of New York City possessing it.

The FBI monitored all three suppliers and finally got their results last night. Cruz purchased a week's worth of medication from an underground clinic in Queens. The surveillance footage clearly captured his face—a perfect match to the photo in the DNA file.

But the FBI did not arrest him immediately. Instead, Lynn had the supplier deliver a message: the target, Lynn Hall, would be coming alone to the abandoned factory that night for a secret meeting.

The message was fake, but for Cruz, it was a golden opportunity to complete the mission—the target was alone, in a remote location, and unprotected. For a professional assassin, such an opportunity was too tempting.

"I see him," a sniper lying in wait on the top floor of a nearby building reported over the radio. "The target is approaching from the east, about two hundred meters from the factory."

"Everyone, keep silent," Lynn ordered. "Let him in."

Lynn's heart began to race, but he forced himself to remain calm. He checked his equipment: his primary weapon was a Glock 17 pistol, with a spare on his hip; the bulletproof vest was worn over his bandages, which, while increasing the pressure on his chest, was essential; a tactical knife was strapped to his right leg; and there were two flashbangs in his pocket.

Most importantly, he knew every corner of the building. For the past two days, he had meticulously studied its layout, planning retreat routes, cover points, and tactical advantages. In a fight against a superhuman, terrain advantage was crucial.

"Target enters the building, first floor, east entrance," the sniper continued to report.

Lynn took a deep breath, ignoring the pain in his chest. He walked to the middle of the third-floor corridor, where the view was open and there wasn't much cover—it looked like a careless waiting spot. But in reality, FBI agents were lying in ambush at both ends of the corridor, hidden surveillance cameras were installed in the ceiling, and a trap was concealed on the ground three meters away from Lynn's feet.

Light footsteps approached from downstairs. Cruz was getting closer, but very cautiously. He was clearly not the kind of reckless killer.

The footsteps stopped on the second floor. Lynn could imagine Cruz there, observing, assessing the surroundings, and looking for possible traps. Time ticked by, and Lynn maintained a relaxed posture, pretending to wait for someone, occasionally glancing at his watch.

Suddenly, a voice came from the second floor: "Agent Holt."

Lynn turned towards the direction of the sound and saw Cruz standing at the top of the stairs, about twenty meters away. He was wearing black tactical clothing, and the scars on his face were clearly visible in the dim light—scars Lynn had inflicted two days earlier.

“Victor Cruz,” Lynn said calmly, “or do you prefer to be called ‘The Ghost’?”

Cruz narrowed his eyes. "You know who I am."

“The FBI went to great lengths to find you,” Lynn said. “Blood samples, DNA databases, military files. Your disguise was good, but not perfect.”

"Then why did you dare come here alone?" Cruz asked, his voice tinged with suspicion. "Are you trying to commit suicide?"

“Or I’m trying to grab you,” Lynn said, as he slowly moved his hand toward the holster at his waist.

Cruz noticed the movement and immediately displayed astonishing speed, dashing out like an arrow. Lynn drew his gun and fired repeatedly, but Cruz was too fast. He ran in a zigzag pattern, and most of the bullets missed, with only one grazing his shoulder.

But that was exactly what Lynn wanted. Cruz's sprint caused him to step on a pressure-triggered device on the ground—a trap disguised as an ordinary floor.

“Now!” Lynn shouted through the headset.

Simultaneously, net guns concealed in the ceiling fired, and a specially reinforced metal net fell from above, covering Cruz. At the same time, the doors at both ends of the corridor flung open, and four fully armed FBI agents rushed out, wielding Tasers.

But Cruz reacted with astonishing speed. He sensed the danger the moment the net fell, and rolled sharply to the side. Although he didn't completely avoid it, his left arm was caught in the edge of the net. He roared and used superhuman strength to tear the metal net apart—a net meant to restrain a grown bull.

Four Taser shots were fired simultaneously, but Cruz was already moving. Two shots missed, one hit his thigh, and one hit his chest. An electric current surged through his body; an ordinary person would be instantly incapacitated, but Cruz only convulsed for a moment before continuing to move.

“Damn enhanced humans,” an agent cursed under his breath.

Instead of fighting back, Cruz turned and rushed towards the window. He smashed the glass with his shoulder and jumped onto the fire escape outside.

"He's trying to escape!" Sarah shouted. "All units, pursue him!"

Lynn immediately followed. He jumped onto the fire escape ladder and saw Cruz had already landed on the ground—three stories high—but he landed steadily and continued running.

Lynn didn't jump; that would worsen his injuries. He quickly climbed down the fire escape ladder while giving orders over the radio: "Sarah, he's running west, cut off his escape route! Snipers, maintain visual contact but don't fire, too many buildings are obstructing the view, too risky!"

Upon reaching the ground, Cruz had already run into another abandoned building nearby. Lynn followed closely behind, but remained cautious—chasing a superhuman in an enclosed space was extremely dangerous.

The building is an old warehouse with a huge interior space filled with abandoned machinery and piles of goods. Dim light shines in through broken skylights, creating an environment of alternating light and shadow.

Lynn entered the warehouse and immediately found a pillar for cover. His eyes quickly scanned the surroundings, searching for Cruz's trail.

“I know you’re here, Cruz,” Lynn shouted. “There are FBI agents everywhere outside. You can’t get away.”

There was no response. Only the whistling of the wind through the broken windows and the faint sound of police sirens in the distance.

Lynn moved slowly, pointing his gun ahead, each step cautious. Suddenly, a metallic object flew from his left—a wrench thrown by Cruz. Lynn barely dodged it; the wrench struck the wall behind him with a loud thud.

Lynn immediately fired two shots at the source of the sound, but only hit a pile of crates. Cruz had already moved.

“You’re tough, Hall,” Cruz’s voice came from the darkness, the echo making it impossible to pinpoint its exact location, “but you’re injured. I can hear your breathing, unsteady, in pain. You can’t hold on much longer.”

“I don’t need to hold out for long,” Lynn replied, while continuing to move to avoid becoming a stationary target. “Just hold out until you get caught.”

“You thought this was a trap?” Cruz sneered. “I saw it coming, I saw it from the very beginning. But I still came.” “Why?” Lynn asked, trying to pinpoint Cruz’s location through the conversation.

“Because I have professional ethics,” Cruz said. “I take on a mission, and I have to complete it. Besides, although you set a trap, it failed. Now it's just you and me, one-on-one. In this situation, I have the advantage.”

No sooner had he finished speaking than Cruz burst out from behind a pile of goods, moving so fast he was reduced to a blurry shadow. Lynn fired, but Cruz was too quick, and the bullets struck behind him.

Cruz rushed towards Lynn and punched him in the head. Lynn leaned back to dodge, the fist grazing his face, the force of the blow causing him pain. Lynn seized the opportunity to retaliate with the butt of his gun, striking Cruz's arm, but the latter barely reacted.

The two engaged in close combat again. Cruz's every strike carried immense power, forcing Lynn to dodge and parry constantly, unable to take the blows head-on. His rib injury limited his movements; each large-scale dodge aggravated the wound, and the excruciating pain slowed his reactions.

A punch landed squarely on Lynn's shoulder, the force sending him flying into a pile of wooden crates. The crates shattered, and Lynn fell to the ground, a tearing pain shooting through his chest wound.

Cruz slowly walked over. "You're strong, Hall. As an ordinary person, you've done very well. But this is the limit."

Lynn struggled to his feet, still holding the gun, but he knew that at this distance, Cruz could rush over before he could pull the trigger.

"Who hired you?" Lynn asked breathlessly. "Greystone Capital? Or someone else?"

“You think I’d tell you?” Cruz said. “Professional conduct, Hall. I don’t betray my clients.”

“Even if they abandon you?” Lynn said. “Do you think they’ll protect you once you’re caught? No, they’ll cut off all contact and leave you to take the blame alone.”

“Then we can’t get caught,” Cruz said, preparing to launch the final attack.

Just then, Lynn noticed a pile of goods behind Cruz—old chemical drums with flammable warning signs. This warehouse had once been part of a chemical plant.

Lynn suddenly raised his gun, not at Cruz, but at the chemical barrels behind him.

"No!" Cruz realized Lynn's intention, but it was too late.

Lynn pulled the trigger, and the bullet pierced the chemical drum. Although the chemicals inside were old, they were still flammable. The spark ignited the leaking liquid, and flames spread instantly.

Cruz was forced to leap forward to avoid the flames behind him. Lynn seized the opportunity and pounced on Cruz with all her might, and the two became entangled again.

This time, Lynn didn't try to fight back with brute force, but instead used grappling techniques to try and control Cruz's joints. He grabbed Cruz's arm, using his weight to pin him down, while simultaneously thrusting his knee into Cruz's ribs.

Cruz struggled fiercely; his strength far surpassed Lynn's, but Lynn's skill made it difficult for him to prevail. The two rolled on the ground, the surrounding flames growing larger, and smoke began to fill the entire warehouse.

"Lynn, the warehouse is on fire!" Sarah's voice came through the earpiece. "You have to get out!"

"Just one more minute!" Lynn gritted his teeth and insisted.

Cruz finally broke free of Lynn's grasp and punched Lynn in the cheek. Lynn's vision blurred instantly, but he instinctively grabbed Cruz's collar, preventing him from completely slipping away.

Just then, the sound of shattering glass came from the other side of the warehouse. Four FBI agents rushed in from different entrances, armed with riot shields and Tasers.

"FBI! Don't move!" Sarah led the charge.

Cruz saw reinforcements arrive and knew the situation was dire. He kicked Lynn aside, jumped up, and rushed towards the nearest window.

"Stop him!" Lynn shouted, but Cruz was too fast.

However, just as Cruz was about to jump out of the window, an arc of electricity struck him from the side. It was Sarah; she had set up an ambush on Cruz's likely route, and her taser hit him precisely.

This was the second electric shock, and the cumulative effect finally kicked in. Cruz's body convulsed violently, his movements became distorted, and he failed to jump out of the window. Instead, he crashed into the window frame and fell heavily to the ground.

“Now!” Sarah commanded.

Four agents immediately rushed forward and subdued Cruz with riot shields. Even after being electrocuted, Cruz continued to struggle, and his strength made it difficult for the three agents to completely subdue him.

Lynn endured the pain and stood up, walking over to Cruz. He took out specially made handcuffs—a thicker, reinforced model designed specifically for superhumans.

“Victor Cruz,” Lynn said as he handcuffed him, “you’re under arrest for attempted murder, assaulting a federal agent, and illegal use of enhancement drugs.”

Cruz stopped struggling; he knew it was over. He looked up at Lynn, his eyes filled with both anger and a hint of respect. "You're more difficult to deal with than I thought."

“I could say the same to you,” Lynn said, then turned to the agents, “take him out, the warehouse is going to collapse.”

Indeed, the fire was out of control, and the wooden structure of the warehouse began to crack. Everyone evacuated quickly, and just a few seconds after rushing out of the warehouse door, part of the roof collapsed, and flames shot into the sky.

Outside, the sirens of fire trucks grew louder as they approached. Lynn sat on the steps of the ambulance, letting paramedics examine his injuries. Blood had seeped through the bandages on his chest, indicating that the wound had reopened.

“Agent Holt, you need to get back to the hospital immediately,” the paramedics said. “Your condition has worsened.”

“I know,” Lynn said, but his attention was on Cruz. The assassin was escorted into an armored vehicle by agents, and even in handcuffs, his dangerousness still required the highest level of protection.

Sarah walked over, her face streaked with soot. "We caught him."

“Yes,” Lynn said, “the most important thing now is to get him to talk.” (End of Chapter)