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

“There’s a drainage ditch over there,” he pointed towards the back of the warehouse, “it leads to the back wall. We can use it to get close to the back door and bypass the guards in front.”

"Then what?"

"Then we'll enter through the back door, take care of the people inside, then open the front door from the inside and engage the guards there. At the same time, we need to make sure the explosives aren't detonated."

“That sounds crazy,” Sarah said.

“Because it is indeed crazy,” Lynn admitted, “but it’s our best option.”

They began to move, along the abandoned containers and rusty machinery, heading towards the drainage ditch. The sun was setting, the sky beginning to turn a deep orange and purple, and long shadows stretched out from the buildings, providing them with extra cover.

The drainage ditch was a concrete channel about one meter deep and half a meter wide, with some stagnant water and weeds at the bottom. Lynn and Sarah jumped into the ditch, crouching low as they moved forward, trying not to make a sound.

The ditch smelled awful—a mixture of rotting vegetation, stagnant water, and some kind of chemical—but they didn't care. Lynn's eyes were fixed ahead, his ears listening for any possible alarm.

They walked along the drainage ditch for about fifty meters until they reached the back wall of the warehouse. Lynn cautiously raised his head, peered over the edge of the ditch, and observed his surroundings.

The back door was about ten meters away from them; it was metal and looked heavy. Next to the door was a small security camera, but the lens was facing in another direction—it was designed to monitor the main road leading to the warehouse, not this abandoned drain.

“The cameras have blind spots,” Lynn whispered. “If we move quickly, we shouldn’t be caught on camera.”

Is the door locked?

“I’m not sure,” Lynn said, “but even if it’s locked, we can pick it open. These old-fashioned industrial locks aren’t difficult to deal with.”

He pulled a small lock-picking tool kit from his pocket—one of the standard equipment for every field agent—and gestured for Sarah to follow.

They leaped out of the drain and moved quickly toward the back door. Lynn's heart pounded; every step felt like walking on a knife's edge. If someone turned around at that moment and saw them...
They reached the back door and pressed themselves against the wall. Lynn put his ear to the door, listening for any sounds inside.

I could faintly hear voices, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. There were also some metallic clanging sounds, probably someone moving things.

He tried the doorknob.

The door wasn't locked.

He exchanged a glance with Sarah, then raised his gun and slowly pushed open the door.

Behind the door was a narrow corridor lined with storage shelves piled high with odds and ends. A light shone at the end of the corridor, from which the sounds of talking and metal clanging could be heard.

Lynn led the way, with Sarah following behind, as they moved stealthily down the corridor. Each step was light, avoiding any sound that might reveal their location.

As they approached the end of the corridor, Lynn stopped and cautiously peeked out to observe.

The corridor led to a spacious warehouse hall. In the center of the hall were several rows of metal shelves, piled high with various boxes and equipment. At the far end of the hall, three people were working—two were moving metal boxes, and one stood to the side holding a list, seemingly checking quantities.

Lynn saw other things as well.

In a corner of the hall, there was a folding table with several electronic devices on it—it looked like a control panel for a remote detonation device. Next to it was an open box, revealing yellow plastic packages—the characteristic appearance of C4 explosives.

“The explosives are there,” he whispered to Sarah. “We need to make sure those detonators aren’t activated.”

"How do we do it?"

“You provide cover, I’ll take control of the table,” Lynn said. “Wait for my signal.”

He took a deep breath, then rushed out of the corridor, aiming his gun at the nearest enemy.

"FBI! Everyone, freeze!"

Everything erupted in that instant.

The three enemies reacted faster than Lynn had anticipated. The man with the list almost instinctively reached for his waist, trying to draw his weapon. Lynn pulled the trigger, and the bullet struck his shoulder, sending him screaming as he fell to the ground.

The other two dropped the boxes they were carrying and scattered in different directions, simultaneously drawing their guns and returning fire.

Bullets whizzed around Lynn as he rolled behind a row of metal shelves, using the crates on the shelves for cover. Several bullets struck the crates behind him with a thud, sending debris flying.

“Cover me!” he shouted to Sarah.

Sarah leaned out of the corridor and opened fire on the two enemies who were shooting. Her shooting was accurate and effective, forcing one of them to take cover behind a pile of containers, while the other was pinned down next to a forklift.

Lynn seized the opportunity, rushed out from behind cover, and ran wildly toward the table where the detonator was placed.

An enemy saw his intention and turned his gun to fire at him. Lynn dodged the first bullet, and the second bullet grazed his arm, tearing his coat sleeve and leaving a burning wound.

He gritted his teeth and continued forward, returning fire as he went. A bullet struck the enemy in the thigh, causing him to fall to his knees and drop his gun.

Lynn reached the table and shoved the detonators off, sending them sprawling to the floor. He didn't know if they had already been activated, but this would at least prevent anyone from pressing the detonation button in the chaos.

“There are others!” Sarah’s voice came from behind.

Lynn turned around and saw that the front door of the warehouse had been kicked open, and the two men who had been guarding the door rushed in, each holding a submachine gun.

Things have become even more complicated.

"Take cover!" Lynn shouted as he dove behind a pile of metal crates, bullets whizzing over his head.

The deafening roar of submachine gun fire echoed through the warehouse. Lynn cowered behind cover, feeling bullets pounding everything around him—metal crates, concrete floors, rusty shelves. Shards and sparks flew everywhere.

He poked his head out and fired two quick shots, but missed everyone. The two guys with submachine guns coordinated well, one providing cover while the other moved, trying to flank him.

“Lynn!” Sarah’s voice rang out again, “Your right!”

Lynn looked to his right and saw that one of the submachine gunners had circled around to his flank and was aiming at him.

He didn't have time to aim; he instinctively threw himself to the ground and fired at the same time.

The bullet struck the submachine gunner in the chest, but the man was wearing a bulletproof vest, and the bullet only caused him to stagger, without inflicting fatal damage. However, this momentary stumble gave Lynn an opportunity—he adjusted his gun, and a second bullet struck the man's unprotected neck. The submachine gunner fell, blood gushing from his throat.

Seeing his comrade fall, another submachine gunner furiously opened fire on Lynn's position. Lynn lay flat on the ground, feeling the bullets fly past him just centimeters behind, hitting the metal box with a screeching sound.

Then, the gunfire suddenly stopped.

Lynn heard a scream, followed by the sound of a heavy object falling to the ground.

He looked up and saw the last submachine gunner lying on the ground, two bloody holes in his chest. Sarah stood at the end of the corridor, her gun still smoking.

"Have we cleared the area?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Lynn stood up and quickly looked around. Five enemies lay on the ground—three of them were the first they discovered, and two had rushed in later. Two of them were dead, and the other three were still alive, but all were incapacitated.

“Clear the area,” he said. “Take all their weapons, then check if anyone else is there.”

They spent a few minutes making sure there were no other threats in the warehouse. Lynn used plastic cable ties to bind the hands and feet of the three surviving enemies, and confiscated their weapons—two pistols, two submachine guns, and several knives.

“Now let’s take a look at those explosives,” he said, walking toward the open crates in the corner of the warehouse.

The contents of the boxes confirmed his suspicions. Neatly arranged yellow plastic packages, each containing about a pound of C4 plastic explosives. Lynn quickly counted; there were about twenty boxes, each containing twenty-five packages.

“Five hundred pounds,” he said, “it’s all here.”

“What about the detonator?” Sarah asked.

Lynn walked back to the table he had overturned and picked up the electronic devices scattered on the floor. They were several remote-controlled detonators, each connected to a long wire.

“It looks like they haven’t connected the detonator to the explosives yet,” he said, inspecting the wires. “We’ve arrived just in time.”

He took out his phone and dialed Morrison's number.

“Deputy Chief, it’s me,” he said. “We’ve located the explosives, all 500 pounds of C4. The location is Warehouse Number Seven in the Newark Industrial Complex. We encountered resistance, but the situation is under control. We need a bomb disposal team and reinforcements.”

"The two of you?" Morrison's voice was filled with disbelief. "How many enemies have you two fought?"

“Five,” Lynn said. “Two dead and three injured. Sarah and I are both fine.”

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

“The tactical team is on its way,” Morrison finally said. “They’ll arrive in about twenty minutes. The bomb disposal team will follow shortly after. Until then, secure the site and do not touch the explosives.”

"clear."

Lynn hung up the phone, leaned against a metal frame, and let out a long breath.

The adrenaline began to subside, and fatigue and pain began to wash over him. He looked down at his arm—there was a shallow gunshot wound there, the blood had already clotted, but the wound was still throbbing.

“You’re injured,” Sarah said, walking over and looking at his arm.

“It’s just a scratch,” Lynn said. “Nothing serious.”

“Let me see,” Sarah insisted, pulling a handkerchief from her pocket and quickly bandaging his wound. “Once reinforcements arrive, have the medics take care of it.”

"Thanks."

They waited in the warehouse for reinforcements. The last rays of the setting sun streamed in through the windows high up in the warehouse, casting an eerie golden glow over the place filled with the smell of gunpowder and blood.

Several wounded men on the ground were groaning, but Lynn and Sarah ignored them. They sat beside a pile of boxes, each lost in their own thoughts.

“Have you ever experienced anything like this before?” Sarah asked suddenly. “I mean, a real gunfight, close-quarters combat.”

“Several times,” Lynn said, “but each time it felt different. What about you?”

“This is my first time,” Sarah said, her voice trembling slightly, but she tried to control her emotions. “Shooting on the training field is one thing, actually firing at a living person is another.”

“You did a great job,” Lynn said. “If it weren’t for your cover, I might be dead.”

"I just did what I was supposed to do."

“That’s what partnership means,” Lynn said. “Supporting each other, protecting each other. You saved my life today, Sarah. I’ll never forget that.”

Sarah looked at him, a slight smile playing on her lips. "Then next time it'll be your turn to save me."

"It's a deal."

Sirens blared in the distance, rapidly approaching. Moments later, FBI tactical vehicles stormed into the industrial area, black armored cars and SUVs lined up in front of the warehouses. Fully armed tactical personnel jumped out and quickly established a perimeter.

Morrison arrived as well. He stepped out of a black SUV and strode towards the warehouse. His expression was serious, but a hint of relief flashed in his eyes when he saw Lynn and Sarah standing there unharmed.

“You two are crazy,” he said, but there was no blame in his tone, more of a complex emotion—perhaps relief, perhaps helplessness. “I meant we were just doing reconnaissance.”

“The situation has changed,” Lynn said. “They’ve started moving the explosives ahead of schedule. If we don’t act, those things might already be on their way.”

Morrison sighed, looking at the scene in the warehouse—enemies lying on the ground, scattered weapons, and boxes full of C4.

“The bomb disposal team is examining the explosives,” he said. “Initial assessment indicates all 500 pounds of C4 are here; not a single pound has been moved. You’ve succeeded.”

“What about the Grand Central Building?” Lynn asked. “We need to make sure it’s safe.”

“I have increased security at the Grand Central Building,” Morrison said. “An additional fifty police officers and ten counterterrorism SWAT officers have been deployed. They will take immediate action if any suspicious persons or items appear.”

“But the Brotherhood may have other plans,” Lynn said. “The Dreamweavers are dead, the explosives were intercepted, but their leadership—Eileen Shaw and the others—are still out there. They won’t give up after one failure.”

“I know,” Morrison said, “that’s why I need you to keep investigating. This time you intercepted five hundred pounds of C4, preventing a potential terrorist attack. But what about next time? And the time after that? We can’t keep playing defensively; we need to find the Brotherhood’s core and destroy them completely.” (End of Chapter)