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

Matteo looked at her, his lips moved, and it was as if a layer of strength had been suddenly drained from his body by those words. After a long while, he shoved the plastic bag into Lynn's arms, his action almost filled with hatred.

“Take it,” he said. “If you lose it, I’ll never forgive you.”

"I'll try my best not to give you a chance to settle scores with me." Lynn caught the bag and quickly shoved the black cloth bag and access card inside into the innermost layer of his backpack, leaving only the unimportant medicine box and miscellaneous items on the outside. He crumpled the half-empty plastic bag into a ball and threw it into a puddle nearby, letting it drift away with the current.

"What are you doing?" Matteo frowned.

“Give the people behind us a false hope,” Lynn said, leading them through the gate.

The maintenance corridor stretched southeast until it finally ended at a staircase. The staircase led upwards to a heavy metal access door at the top. An old-fashioned card reader and mechanical lock were embedded in the door, and a faded warning sign was posted next to it: "No entry without permission."

“Where is this?” Carmela asked.

“The old drainage maintenance outlet near Federal Square is theoretically abandoned, but it can still be used for entry and exit in emergencies.” Lynn went up to the door, took out an extremely thin black card from his pocket, and lightly taped it on the card reader.

Carmela was stunned: "You actually have that authority?"

“We have to have one even if we don’t.” Lynn listened to the sound of the lock turning inside for a second, then added, “Jason once made me a spare pass, in case I ever crawl out of some shabby place again.”

“That sounds perfect for your job,” Matteo muttered.

The door clicked open. Lynn pressed the handle, and the door slowly slid open, releasing a rush of fresh air, still carrying the smell of concrete. Outside wasn't a street, but a starkly lit underground service corridor with the gray-blue signage common to federal facilities on the walls. The low rumble of air conditioning units could be heard in the distance.

“Go in,” Lynn said.

The three filed out, and the door closed behind them. The sudden sense of isolation was so acute that Carmela's legs almost gave way, and she stood against the wall for several seconds before regaining her senses. The hems of her clothes were soaked, her shoes were filled with dirty water, and her hair clung to her forehead and neck; she looked as if she had just been pulled from a river.

“Oh my God…” she gasped, her eyes instantly reddening, “I never want to see a sewer again in my life.”

Matteo was equally disheveled, his black coat hem soaked with mud, his face a mixture of exhaustion and pallor from the recent attack, yet he still stubbornly insisted, "Don't talk like you see this all the time."

“Shut up,” Carmela replied immediately.

Lynn ignored the siblings' reflexive bickering and took out his phone to check the signal. The signal was back. He dialed Jason, and the call connected almost immediately.

“You’d better be home already,” Jason said as soon as he opened his mouth.

“Maintenance passage number three underground at the Manhattan branch, send someone to pick us up,” Lynn said directly.

There was a half-second silence on the other end of the phone, then the tone completely changed: "What happened?"

“Carmela’s house was sniped, and afterwards, people came into the building and blocked the door. We came out through the drainage system.” Lynn spoke quickly. “Bring first aid, clean clothes, and sealed bags. Don’t go through the public reception entrance.”

The sound of a chair leg scraping against the floor came from Jason's end: "How many people?"

"At least four pursuers, one sniper, and possibly a support vehicle. The target is Matteo and the samples he brought out."

How are you?

"Alive."

“Just because you’re alive doesn’t mean everything’s alright,” Jason cursed. “Five minutes.”

The call ended. Lynn looked up at the brighter end of the corridor ahead, where a biometric security door was already visible. Carmela leaned against the wall, her breathing still unsteady, yet she hadn't dropped the frying pan she was holding. Matteo looked down at his wrist; the transparent crystal had receded, leaving only a few shallow bloodstains and taut skin.

"Are you alright?" Carmela asked him, her voice much softer.

“He won’t die,” Matteo said in a low voice.

"You've said this stupid thing twice today."

That's because—

“Because you’re not allowed to say ‘I won’t die’ again.” Carmela’s eyes were still red, but her tone was fierce. “You’re staying put tonight and you’re not allowed to go anywhere.”

Matteo looked at her, as if he wanted to argue again, but when his gaze fell on her pale, disheveled face and trembling hands, he simply turned his head away, clicked his tongue softly, and remained silent.

Not long after, rapid footsteps came from the security door. The door opened, and Jason rushed out with two operatives and a medic. Jason's face turned extremely grim when he saw the three men covered in mud.

“You always have to come up with something new every time you’re discharged from the hospital, don’t you?” He said as he strode over, his gaze first sweeping over Lynn’s chest and left arm, then over Carmela and Matteo. “Who’s more seriously injured?”

“Him.” Carmela pointed instinctively to Matteo.

"I didn't—"

“Shut up,” Carmela and Jason said almost simultaneously.

Matteo was taken aback for a moment, then glared at Jason: "And who are you?"

“FBI, Jason.” Jason pulled his badge out of his pocket and flashed it in front of him, not giving him a chance to look at it carefully. “He’s also the one who decides which bed you’ll sleep in tonight.”

“I’m not going to the interrogation room.” Matteo immediately bristled.

“Nobody told you to go to the interrogation room,” Lynn interrupted him. “You and Carmela go to the dormitory area first.”

Matteo paused for a moment: "The dormitory?"

"Temporary safe accommodation," Jason continued, waving to the two operatives behind him. "Take them through the internal passage and register them using aliases. Check their wrists and wounds first; the rest will wait until I get back."

Carmela was about to ask Lynn if he was coming too when Lynn opened his backpack, took out a sealed bag from the innermost layer, sealed the purified tablet sample wrapped in black cloth and the access card inside, and handed it to Jason.

Jason took it, glanced at it, and his face darkened further: "This is it?"

“Yes,” Lynn said. “Lock it in the evidence freezer first, bypass the regular front desk procedures. Then have the technical department immediately check the access card for the spoofed address and related points.”

"Understood." Jason handed the sealed bag to the operative behind him. "Use the special channel with the serial number. Nobody should sign for the regular transfer."

Carmela snapped out of her daze and grabbed Lynn's sleeve: "Wait. What about you?"

Lynn looked at her: "I'm going back to the scene." "No way!" she blurted out almost immediately, "You were just discharged from the hospital, and you just ran a huge lap through the sewers. You want to go back now? There's a sniper on the other side!"

“That’s why we need to get back while it’s still hot.” ​​Lynn’s tone was very steady. “They think we’re only concerned with saving our lives and getting out of here right now, and we might not have time to clean up all the traces. The longer we wait, the easier it will be to erase the ballistic points, tire tracks, shell marks, and the surveillance footage from the stairwell.”

"Can--"

“Carmela,” Lynn looked at her, his voice lowering slightly, “what you and Matteo need most right now is to stay behind a locked door, with someone guarding it. Let me do what I have to do.”

Carmela's hand remained gripping his sleeve, her eyes still filled with lingering fear and anger: "You always say that."

Lynn paused for a moment: "Most of the time, that's true."

Hearing this, Matteo's expression was incredibly complicated. He had been furious with Lynn, but now he was somewhat bewildered by what he had just witnessed and the real Federation operatives before him. He looked at his sister, then at Lynn, and finally spoke abruptly: "Going back alone won't do you any good. Those people are very good at clearing out the area."

“So it’s not just one person,” Jason said coldly. “I’m leading the team.”

Matteo frowned: "Do you know who we're chasing?"

“I know a little,” Lynn said, looking at him. “But if you give us more details, we’ll be faster.”

Matteo opened his mouth, as if hesitating whether to continue believing them. Carmela suddenly grabbed his arm, as if afraid he would pull away again: "Matteo."

He looked down and saw that his sister's knuckles were white from gripping the device so tightly. His Adam's apple bobbed, and he finally spoke: "Those who directly pursued me are mostly not from the core group, but rather the outer-circle cleaners. They usually wear casual clothes, drive gray cars, and always have those transparent earpieces in their ears. They usually call the leader 'Mr. Wei,' but I've never seen his face. The people who are truly in charge of adaptation and samples won't come out and pursue me themselves."

"Where's the sniper?" Lynn asked.

“I’m not sure if it’s the same group,” Matteo frowned. “But whenever it involves a sample leak, they’ll find ‘people with eyes.’ That’s their slang for remote cleanup and surveillance.”

Jason quickly jotted down a few keywords: "Any other characteristics?"

“One of them had a broken little finger on his left hand, and his right foot dragged a bit when he walked.” Matteo thought for a moment, “Also, they often had a very pungent disinfectant smell in their car, like a hospital mixed with bleach.”

Carmela's expression changed upon hearing this: "It tastes just like the cup in his room."

Lynn and Jason exchanged a glance.

Jason nodded: "That's enough."

The operative had already come to urge him on. Carmela, however, remained standing still. She looked at Lynn's breathing, which was noticeably faster from running all the way, and at the inside of his coat, which was soaked with sewage and clung to his body. The cuff of his left sleeve was unnaturally wrinkled from the wound. Finally, she said with a hint of fierceness, "You can go back, but at least let the medical officer look at you for two minutes first."

Lynn was about to say no, but Jason grabbed his shoulder and said, "Listen to her. If you break a rib halfway there, I'll have to send someone to carry you."

The medical officer nimbly approached, first examining his left arm, then pressing on the outside of the brace on his chest. Lynn winced in pain. The medical officer looked up: "You overexerted yourself. It's best to reapply pressure. There's no obvious secondary bleeding yet, but further close-quarters combat is not recommended."

"Received." Lynn said this, but clearly didn't take it to heart.

The medical officer, having likely seen many such cases, didn't waste his breath, simply tightening the restraints and adding an extra layer of compression bandage to the outside of his left arm. Carmela stood by, watching, her expression growing increasingly grim, knowing that saying "Don't go" at this point was pointless.

She finally whispered, "You promised you would try your best to help Matteo."

Lynn looked up at her: "I remember."

"Then don't ruin yourself out there."

Jason coughed involuntarily, as if to remind himself that he was still there. Lynn, however, simply looked at Carmela, paused for half a second, and nodded: "Okay."

This single word wasn't much, but Carmela's shoulders finally relaxed a little after hearing it. She didn't stop her anymore, but simply pulled Matteo along to follow the two operatives. Matteo took a couple of steps, then turned back to look at Lynn, his expression extremely awkward: "...Hey."

"explain."

"When I said you looked like a policeman, I wasn't complimenting you."

"I know."

“And,” Matteo paused, his gaze falling on Lynn’s tightly bandaged left arm, his tone still sharp, “don’t die near my house. The landlord will raise the rent.”

Jason burst out laughing.

Lynn's lips twitched slightly: "Your way of showing concern is annoying."

"Each each other."

After the operatives took the siblings away, the corridor fell silent, save for the low hum of the air conditioning units and distant pipes. Jason tightened his waterproof jacket, his expression hardening: "Alright, now tell me the plan."

Lynn walked to the simple Manhattan underground maintenance map hanging on the wall, traced a line on the map with his finger, and traced back northwest from where they had just come out.

“We’ll split into three lines first,” he said. “The first line will go back to the Harlem apartment site and seal off the Carmela building and four potential sniper positions in the surrounding area: the roof across the street, the abandoned parking lot, the fire escape platform, and behind the telephone tower in the southeast corner. We’ll collect warheads, shell casings, shoe prints, tire tracks, and residual fingerprints.”

Jason nodded: "Second-tier?"

"The second line of investigation involves tracing the sewer entrance and the evacuation route through the back alley, checking the gray van, nearby intersection surveillance cameras, and illegal parking records. Note that these are not ordinary surveillance cameras; some points may have been scouted in advance. We will then retrieve spliced ​​footage from municipal, commercial, subway entrance/exit, and garbage truck dashcams."

“The third line?” Jason asked.

Lynn's gaze fell on the maintenance door he had just come out of: "The third line is clearing the sewers. They stopped halfway through the chase, either because they were afraid of triggering security if they entered the Federal District, or because they received another order to retreat. Check how far they chased them; there will be flashlight marks, muddy rubber shoe tracks, and they may have left behind communication repeaters or disposable markers along the way."

Jason clicked his tongue: "You're injured like this, how come your brain is still working so fast?"

“Because someone just shot through the window of an ordinary residential apartment with a sniper rifle.” Lynn looked at him. “They’ve started to disregard the risk of exposing the neighborhood, which means the samples and what Matteo knows are more valuable than we originally thought.”

Jason's expression darkened: "Or it means there's an even bigger crack inside them."

“Anything is possible,” Lynn said. “And another thing, they weren’t aiming to kill Carmela outright. The first shot was fired from the living room window, not the kitchen or the bedroom. The timing was also perfect, coinciding with the moment when we were arguing and both of us were exposed to the living room’s view.”

“It’s more like forcing you into chaos, forcing Matteo to escape with his things,” Jason added.

“Yes.” Lynn nodded. “They need him to run, they need him to solidify the fact that he ‘escaped with crucial information.’ That way, no matter who captures him later, it will be easy for them to label him a defector and a thief.” (End of Chapter)