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

Chapter 207 Excellent Agent

"So, your agent was arrested." Caleb leaned back in his chair and said leisurely, "This is what you call 'controlling the situation'? How ridiculous."

Lynn didn't respond, he just stared at Caleb quietly, like a bird of prey patiently waiting for its prey to make a mistake.

Caleb raised an eyebrow, as if wanting to break the silence, "Let me guess—the condition they proposed is to exchange me, right?"

"You're right," Lynn finally spoke, her voice unsettlingly calm. "But you know I won't do that."

"Oh?" Caleb feigned surprise. "What about your colleagues? Isn't your FBI motto 'Leave no one behind'?"

Lynn leaned slightly closer to Caleb and whispered, "You overestimate your own value. The Holy Blood Alliance is using you as bait, but to me, you are just a pawn, a pawn that must be left behind."

Caleb's smile froze for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "You think you can pry the secrets of the Holy Blood Alliance from me? Lin, you know nothing about this game."

"Maybe." Lin En stood up straight, his eyes cold. "But I know one thing—you're not afraid of us, but your superiors. They won't give you any chance to escape."

Caleb didn't answer, but a sinister glint flashed in his eyes.

Lynn turned and walked out of the interrogation room, leaving Caleb alone to face the oppressive silence.

When Johnson awoke, deathly silence reigned, the air thick with the smell of chemicals. The overhead light flickered dimly, producing a sharp, electric hum. He blinked and felt his hands bound to the metal chair behind him. The rough ropes dug deep into his wrists, rubbing and burning his skin. His head still ached, probably from the shock.

He slowly looked around. The room was small, its concrete floor littered with rusty tools and empty chemical bottles. The walls were crumbling, revealing an abandoned factory that hadn't been maintained in a long time. His mind was in a turmoil, but after a moment, memories flooded back—he'd been captured. Lynn must have known he was missing, and the Blood Alliance was probably using him to threaten the FBI.

"No, I can't just wait like this." Johnson muttered to himself and began to slowly twist his body in the chair, trying to find a little space to move. His eyes quickly scanned the ground, looking for anything he could use.

A little to the left of the chair, he saw a rusty piece of metal, perhaps a fragment from the wall. It was small, but the edge looked sharp enough to cut the rope.

"That's it." Johnson gritted his teeth, his gaze fixed on the metal piece. He took a deep breath, adjusted his center of gravity, and used the back legs of his chair to inched closer to the metal piece. The bottom of the chair scraped against the ground, making a faint creaking sound. He was cautious with every movement, fearing to alert the guards outside.

Time seemed to stretch, his heartbeat quickening with each push. Sweat beads formed on his forehead, and his muscles ached with tension. After several minutes, he finally managed to get the chair close enough. He slowly lowered his head and, with his bound hands, groped for the metal. When his fingers touched the cool metal, he couldn't help but feel a surge of joy.

He gripped the metal blade firmly in his palm and began to saw the rope bit by bit. The rope was strong, but the sharp edge of the metal blade gradually loosened it. His wrists were cut and bleeding from the friction, but he did not stop, gritting his teeth and persevering.

Just as the rope was about to be completely cut, footsteps were heard outside. Johnson stopped, held his breath, and pressed his ear against the back of the chair, trying to distinguish the number and direction of the footsteps.

"Is he still in there?" A deep voice came from outside the door.

"Of course, there's no escape." Another voice responded with a disdainful tone.

"The boss said he has to be kept alive. They want to trade him for Caleb."

"What a hassle! If it weren't for the orders from above, I would have dealt with him long ago."

The footsteps gradually faded, as if the two men were merely patrolling the area and had no intention of entering the room. Johnson breathed a sigh of relief, but his heart grew more anxious. He knew this opportunity wouldn't last many more. He lowered his head and quickened his movements. After a few seconds, the rope finally broke.

His wrists were instantly free, but numb from being tied up for so long. He quickly moved them and stood up from the chair, his eyes scanning the surroundings for the tools he needed for his next move.

There were some old tools piled in the corner, including a long iron rod and a rusty screwdriver. He grabbed the screwdriver, held it tightly in his hand, and walked carefully to the door.

He leaned gently against the door, his ear against the cold iron door, trying to hear the movement outside. There seemed to be no footsteps in the corridor, but he knew that this did not mean it was safe.

Johnson slowly pushed the door open, only cracking it. He quickly scanned the corridor outside, confirming there were no guards, before fully opening the door. The hallway was dimly lit, and the floor was littered with footprints and cigarette butts. He held his breath and tiptoed along the wall toward the outside.

Every step felt like walking on a knife edge, his heartbeat almost jumping out of his chest. He knew that if he was discovered, he might not get a second chance.

Suddenly, a low voice was heard around the corner. He quickly retreated and hid in a nearby storage room, closing the door and leaving only a crack to observe the outside.

Two guards were walking towards them from the end of the corridor, their steps steady, weapons in hand. They walked slowly, as if they were carefully checking every room.

"Do we really have to be so careful?" one of the guards complained. "This place has been cleared. He can't get away."

"Don't be careless," another said coldly, "Johnson is a secret agent. His patience and skills are far greater than you imagine."

Johnson's breathing slowed, and he knew this was his best chance. After the guard had passed, he quietly opened the door, quickly slipped out of the storage room, and ran down the corridor in the opposite direction.

He ran lightly, but not slowly. Finally, he found an exit leading to the outside. It was a dilapidated iron door with a rusty lock on it.

Johnson took out a screwdriver, thrust it into the keyhole, and began to pry. Suddenly, a shout came from the corridor behind him—the guard noticed he was not in the room.

"He ran away! Chase him!"

Johnson's movements became more frantic, the tip of the screwdriver turning rapidly, making a sharp metallic friction sound. After a few seconds, the lock finally broke. He pushed open the iron door, and a gust of cold wind blew in his face.

Outside was an empty, abandoned field, with dim lights and the faint sound of vehicles visible in the distance. He didn't hesitate and rushed out immediately.

The guards behind him chased him, and bullets whizzed past, hitting the ground and abandoned mechanical equipment around him. Johnson gritted his teeth and quickly shuttled around the field, using the abandoned vehicles and equipment as cover.

"Stop him!" someone roared, and more pursuers rushed out.

Johnson's strength was running out, but he forced himself to keep going. He knew if he could hold out until the FBI arrived, he would survive. As he ran, he fished a small tracking device from his pocket, which he had secretly found in the storage room before escaping. He turned it on and tossed it onto a high iron frame, hoping that Lynn and Hans would receive the signal.

Suddenly, an abandoned truck appeared before his eyes. He quickly climbed into the driver's seat, opened the door, and twisted the ignition switch. A few seconds later, the truck roared to life.

"Don't let him drive away!" The guards behind him opened fire wildly, and the bullets shattered the windshield, but Johnson had already stepped on the accelerator, and the truck rushed out suddenly, raising a cloud of dust.

He drove the truck out of the abandoned site and headed towards the distant lights. His eyes were determined. Although there were still pursuers behind him, he knew that he had taken the initiative.

"Hold on, Lynn," he whispered. "I'll come back alive."

At the same time, Johnson's signal suddenly came through Lynn's communicator. Hans' voice was filled with surprise and nervousness: "Lynn! Johnson's tracker has been activated! He escaped successfully!"

Lin En's lips curled up into a cold smile. "Well done. Everyone, move—help Johnson. Let's stop the people from the Holy Blood Alliance right where they are!"

Johnson sped along in the abandoned truck, his heart pounding, the sound of gunfire and headlights lingering behind him like a ghost. The windshield was riddled with holes, and the cold wind whipped through, scratching his cheeks painfully. The engine growled, a low, rasping sound, as if protesting the machine's nearing its limit. He glanced down at the dashboard and saw the fuel gauge was nearing its redline, the truck's fuel level low. He gritted his teeth, gripping the steering wheel tightly while monitoring the situation behind him in the rearview mirror. Two black SUVs were in hot pursuit, their roof-mounted high-beams slicing through the darkness like sharp blades.

Johnson knew that if he continued like this, he would probably be blocked in a dead end. He had to find a way to get rid of these pursuers and at the same time get Lynn and the FBI team to come and help.

He quickly scanned his surroundings. The road ahead was lined with abandoned factory equipment and piles of waste. It was a typical industrial wasteland with no obvious exit and full of complex terrain and obstacles.

"This is it." Johnson whispered in his heart. He stepped on the accelerator, increased the speed of the truck to the limit, and rushed straight to an abandoned iron frame area.

The pursuers behind him clearly hadn't anticipated his move, and the SUV driver shouted, "Where is he going? Watch out for an ambush!"

But the pursuers had no choice but to grit their teeth and continue chasing.

The truck swerved and spun, careening into the area of ​​steel structures. The towering structures, rusted and cracked, threatened to collapse at any moment. Johnson expertly exploited these obstacles to create chaos. With precise steering, the truck weaved between the structures, forcing the SUV behind him to slow down to avoid a collision.

"Damn it!" one of the pursuers yelled as the front of the SUV narrowly avoided hitting a tilted iron pillar. The gunman in the back seat leaned out and tried to fire his rifle at the truck's tires, but Johnson braked suddenly, and the rear of the truck kicked up a cloud of dust, obscuring the pursuer's view.

"You want to chase me?" Johnson cursed under his breath, yanking the steering wheel and slamming the rear of the truck into a nearby metal frame. With a loud bang, the entire metal frame collapsed, crushing the SUVs following closely behind. The driver of the first SUV was unable to react and swerved, but was still hit by the metal frame on the side, causing the truck to roll out of control.

Another SUV behind suddenly braked, and the people in the car immediately jumped out and pointed their weapons at the truck.

"Get out of the car! You can't run away!" a pursuer shouted, pointing his gun at Johnson's cab.

But Johnson had no intention of stopping. He slammed on the accelerator, turning the truck at an impossible angle and plunging back into the depths of the rubble.

Meanwhile, Lynn and Hans's team were closing in on Johnson's position at full speed. Based on the signal from the tracker, they had already locked onto the specific area of ​​the ruins. Hans' voice came over the communicator: "Johnson is in the abandoned industrial area. He's still moving, seemingly trying to shake off his pursuers."

Lynn responded coldly: "We will be there. Inform everyone and try not to shoot. Johnson's condition is unstable. He may need medical assistance."

"Understood." Hans' voice was a little nervous.

Lin En's SUV slammed to a stop outside the ruins. He quickly got out, picked up his assault rifle, and whispered to his team, "Divide into two groups and encircle them. Keep communications open. If you find Johnson, notify me immediately."

The team members nodded and dispersed, blending into the night.

Deep within the ruins, Johnson's truck finally stopped, its fuel tank completely empty and unable to move forward. Gasping for breath, he jumped out of the cab and quickly sought a new cover. He knew his pursuers hadn't given up yet, and now he had to rely on his wits and combat experience to buy time.

He hid behind a pile of discarded steel and listened carefully to the sounds around him. Sure enough, he heard the engine of an SUV and the footsteps of pursuers not far away.

"He's around here! Search!" a rough voice shouted.

Johnson took a deep breath and touched the only weapon in his pocket - the rusty screwdriver he had brought from the abandoned factory. A wry smile appeared on his lips. This wasn't his ideal weapon, but he had to make do with it for now.

As footsteps drew closer, he gripped his screwdriver, hiding in the shadows of the steel. As one of his pursuers inched closer, he lunged, stabbing him in the wrist with the screwdriver. The man cried out in pain, his gun dropping to the ground. Without hesitation, Johnson quickly pulled him down, kneed him in the chest, and punched him in the temple.

The other party fainted immediately.

Johnson picked up the man's gun and quickly retreated into the shadows. He knew he couldn't confront his pursuers head-on, but he also knew he could use the terrain and the fear surrounding them to defeat them one by one.

Just as the next pursuer approached, his gun was already aimed at the other's leg - there was a dull thud, and the pursuer fell to the ground with a scream of pain.

"Damn it, he's still alive!" the pursuers in the distance shouted, with obvious panic in their voices.

But just as they were about to surround Johnson, a burst of muffled gunfire came from the other side of the ruins. The pursuers froze in their tracks, and then they saw several FBI agents rushing out from the darkness, quickly occupying high ground and cover.

"Drop your weapons!" Lin En's voice was as cold as the winter wind. He appeared at the edge of the ruins, aiming his assault rifle at the driver of the last SUV. "You don't stand a chance."

The pursuers hesitated for a second, but just as they were about to fire back, the FBI agents had already accurately shot their weapons. The chaotic battle was over in less than three minutes, and all the pursuers of the Holy Blood Alliance were subdued.

Johnson walked out from behind the steel, his face tired, but his eyes still revealed a stubbornness. He looked at Lin En and smiled: "You are finally here."

Lin En walked up to him with a complicated look in her eyes, "We almost thought you wouldn't make it."

Johnson shrugged and handed the stolen gun to Lynn. "I don't want to be the one waiting to be rescued."

Lynn nodded, the sternness on his face relaxing a little, "Well done, Johnson. But next time, don't risk your life."

Johnson forced a laugh. "It's not something I can control."

Lynn patted his shoulder and turned to look at Hans, "Take these people back to headquarters and interrogate them. This is over for tonight, but we're still far from the end."

After get off work, Lynn drove back to the alleys of Brooklyn. The familiar streetscape remained the same. Tired, he pushed open the car door and stepped inside. The house was already lit with warm lights. Brisk footsteps echoed from the kitchen, and then his sister, Gwen, popped her head out, her smile as bright as the morning sun.

"Brother, you're back!" Gwen, her hands still stained with flour, stood at the door and glared at him, "Why are you so late? Dad is waiting anxiously. We agreed to go out for dinner tonight."

Lin En rubbed his brows and hung his coat on the hanger behind the door. "I've been busy today. I just got back from headquarters."

At this moment, George Stacy's voice came from the living room. He sat on the sofa, polishing his old-fashioned pocket watch, and there was a hint of reproach in his tone, "Lynn, you can't always be so busy with work. Your family is counting on you. It's a rare family get-together tonight, so let's not talk about the case anymore."

"I know, Dad." Lynn sighed, walked over and patted George on the shoulder, "I just can't let go of what happened recently."

George looked up at his adopted son with a complicated expression, but then he smiled with relief. "I've always known that you're an excellent agent. But occasionally, you need to give yourself some time to breathe. Tonight, you only need to remember one thing - eat well and don't think about the case."

"I'll listen to you." Lin En smiled and felt a little relieved.

"Alright!" Gwen clapped her hands, interrupting their conversation. "Go change quickly, we're leaving! Don't keep the restaurant waiting like last time!"

Lin En smiled helplessly, turned around and went upstairs to change into a slightly more casual outfit.

The evening breeze was cool as Lynn walked down the street with George and Gwen. Gwen excitedly chatted with George about school, occasionally turning to ask Lynn a question. Lynn's responses were mostly just a nod or a few brief words. His eyes involuntarily scanned the surroundings, his professional habit keeping him alert, even in such a relaxed situation.

(End of this chapter)