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

Lynn nodded. He knew Morrison was right. Today's victory was only temporary; the real war had just begun.

“Those captured men,” he said, pointing to the three bound enemies on the ground, “we need to interrogate them. They might know something useful—the Brotherhood’s organizational structure, the identities of other members, and future plans.”

“The interrogation has been arranged,” Morrison said. “We’ll have the best interrogation experts handle it. But don’t get your hopes up too high; these people are usually trained to be very difficult to get to talk.”

“Perhaps I can help,” Lynn said. “I have some special connections that might be able to offer assistance.”

Morrison looked at him with a questioning look in his eyes.

“Professor X,” Lynn explained, “is the most powerful telepath in the world. If he were willing to help, he might be able to read information directly from these people’s minds.”

"Involving a mutant in a federal investigation?" Morrison frowned. "That's procedurally complicated."

“I know,” Lynn said, “but this isn’t an ordinary case. We’re dealing with a terrorist organization with mutant abilities, and conventional methods might not be enough. We need all the help we can get.”

Morrison remained silent for a moment, seemingly weighing the pros and cons.

“I’ll consider it,” he finally said, “but before that, you two should go to the medical station for a check-up. Your arm needs some work, Lynn.”

"Yes, Deputy Director."

Lynn and Sarah left the warehouse and walked towards a medical van parked outside. Night was beginning to fall, the sky had turned deep blue, and the first star appeared on the eastern horizon.

Flashing police lights filled the industrial area as FBI agents and technicians busily moved in and out of warehouses, collecting evidence and documenting the scene. It was a chaotic yet orderly scene; everyone knew what they were supposed to do.

Medical personnel cleaned and bandaged Lynn's arm and examined his other injuries—the rib fractures that had not yet fully healed were aggravated by today's strenuous activity, but fortunately, no new damage was caused.

“You need rest,” the medical staff said. “At least a few days to allow the wound to heal.”

“I will try my best,” Lynn said, though he knew it was empty talk. He wouldn’t have a real break until the Brotherhood was completely dismantled.

Sarah sat down next to him, and the medics gave her a quick check-up. She wasn't injured, but her hands were still trembling slightly—a normal reaction to the post-combat adrenaline rush.

"Are you alright?" Lynn asked.

“I’m thinking about everything that happened today,” Sarah said. “Just hours ago, we were investigating a suspicious death in Fisher’s bedroom. Now, we’ve intercepted five hundred pounds of explosives, prevented a terrorist attack, and killed several people.”

“That’s our job,” Lynn said. “Sometimes things happen very quickly, and we have to adapt.”

“I know,” Sarah said, “I just need time to process this.”

Lynn nodded and said nothing more. He understood her feelings. The first real gunfight is a shock to anyone, and it takes time to process those complex emotions.

His phone vibrated. He picked it up and saw a text message from an unknown number.

The text message contained only a few words:

"You've won this time. But the game isn't over yet. —AS"

AS
Eileen Shaw.

Lynn stared at the text message, a complex mix of emotions welling up inside her: anger, alertness, and a strange, inexplicable premonition.

She knew what was happening. She was watching it all. And she clearly wasn't going to stop there.

"What's wrong?" Sarah noticed the change in his expression.

Lynn handed her the phone and showed her the text message.

“Eileen Shaw,” Sarah read the name aloud, “she’s provoking you.”

“Yes,” Lynn said, “she wants me to know that today’s victory is only temporary. She will be back, with more plans, more attacks.”

"Then what do we do?"

Lynn put away her phone and stood up.

“We will continue our pursuit,” he said, “until we find her, until we utterly destroy the Brotherhood. No matter how long it takes, no matter the cost.”

Lynn took a deep breath, feeling the cool night breeze on her face.

“Let’s go,” he said to Sarah, “back to New York. I’ll buy you a drink.”

"Now?" Sarah asked, somewhat surprised. "Don't we need to go back to the station to report first?"

“The report can wait until tomorrow,” Lynn said. “Tonight, we deserve a celebratory drink.”

Sarah looked at him and then smiled. It was a tired but genuine smile.

“Okay,” she said, “but you’re paying.”

"no problem."

They walked toward their car, which was parked some distance away, leaving the chaotic scene behind.

Sunlight streamed into the room through the gaps in the curtains, casting golden streaks on the floor.

Lynn opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling for a while. His apartment was quiet, with only the occasional car horn outside the window and the faint noise from the construction site in the distance. The clock on the wall showed that it was already past ten in the morning—the longest he had slept in a long time.

Back in New York last night, he and Sarah had a few drinks at a quiet bar. They didn't talk about work, fraternities, or explosives; they just chatted about lighthearted topics—their hometowns, favorite movies, and anecdotes from the FBI academy. It was a rare moment of relaxation, allowing Lynn to almost forget all the crazy things that had happened in the past week.

He sat up, feeling soreness in all his muscles. The gunshot wound on his arm, wrapped in gauze, throbbed slightly, but was much better than yesterday. His ribs were also in good condition; as long as he avoided strenuous exercise, there shouldn't be any major problems.

Lynn went into the bathroom, took a shower, and then stood in front of the mirror to examine himself. The man in the mirror looked much more haggard—he had obvious dark circles under his eyes, his cheeks were thinner than a week ago, and the stubble on his chin had grown to the point where it needed trimming.

"It's time to take a break," he said to himself.

Morrison gave him two days off yesterday to rest and recuperate. This was the first real rest Lynn had had in a long time, and he had almost no idea how to spend it.

He shaved, changed into a clean T-shirt and jeans, and went into the kitchen to prepare breakfast. The situation in the refrigerator was worse than he remembered—the expired milk smelled sour, the bread was covered in green mold, and the only edible items were a few eggs and a piece of butter that looked relatively fresh.

He fried two eggs and toasted a few cookies he found in the corner of the cupboard, cobbling together a makeshift breakfast. The coffee machine gurgled on, and soon the room was filled with the aroma of coffee.

Lynn walked to the window with her coffee cup and looked out at the city.

The streets of Manhattan were bustling with people, taxis weaving through traffic, and pedestrians hurrying by, heads down, looking at their phones. It was an ordinary workday, and for most, life went on as usual. No one knew that a batch of explosives powerful enough to destroy a building had been intercepted the previous night, and no one knew how many lives had nearly been lost.

Perhaps this is better, Lynn thought. Let ordinary people continue with their ordinary lives, while people like him take care of dealing with the threats from the shadows.

As he was thinking about these things, his phone suddenly rang. Sarah's name appeared on the screen.

"Hello?"

"Lynn, are you up?" Sarah's voice came through the receiver, sounding much more energetic than last night.

“I just got up,” Lynn said. “What’s up?”

What are your plans for today?

Lynn looked around the empty apartment. "No. I plan to stay home, maybe watch TV, or go out to buy some groceries to fill the fridge."

“That sounds boring,” Sarah said, a hint of sarcasm in her voice. “I have a better suggestion.”

"What proposal?"

"Let's go to Disneyland."

Lynn paused, thinking he had misheard. "What?"

“Disneyland,” Sarah repeated, “the place with Mickey Mouse and roller coasters. You know it, right?”

“Of course I know what Disneyland is,” Lynn said. “Is he serious?”

“Of course I’m serious,” Sarah said. “Last night before I went to bed, I was thinking that we’d just been through so much crazy stuff, we should do something relaxing to unwind. Then I remembered I’ve never been to Disney World in Orlando, so…”

“Wait,” Lynn interrupted her, “Orlando? Isn’t that in Florida?”

“Yes, the flight only takes a little over two hours,” Sarah said, as casually as if she were discussing going to the convenience store downstairs. “I’ve already checked, there’s an 11:30 flight today with available seats. If we leave now, we can still make it.”

Lynn stood by the window, holding a coffee cup in her hand, feeling that all of this was somewhat unreal.

"Are you inviting me to Disneyland?" he asked, wanting to make sure he hadn't misunderstood.

“Yes,” Sarah said. “What, you don’t want to go?”

Lynn thought for a moment. Disneyland was a place full of cartoon characters, colorful castles, and screaming children riding roller coasters. He hadn't been to any amusement park for many years; the last time was probably more than twenty years ago, when he was a child, when his parents took him.

“I’m not sure I’m the Disney type,” he said.

“What do you mean by ‘the kind of person you see at Disneyland’?” Sarah laughed. “Disneyland is for everyone, regardless of age or profession. You can be an FBI agent, or you can take a picture in front of Cinderella Castle; the two things don’t contradict each other.”

"but."

“Lynn,” Sarah’s tone became more serious, “I know a lot has happened in the past week. You almost died in a plane crash, you were hunted by mutants, you confronted a mind killer. You need rest, real rest, not sitting in your apartment staring at the ceiling.”

Lynn fell silent. She was right, he knew. The past week had indeed left him physically and mentally exhausted, and he needed to temporarily detach himself from those dark things.

“And,” Sarah added, “I also need an excuse to treat myself. Yesterday was my first real gunfight, and I killed someone. I know it was necessary, but… I need to do something to make myself happy.”

So Disneyland is your choice?

"Is there a problem?"

Lynn's lips curled into a slight smile. "No problem. It's just... a little unexpected."

Are you coming or not?

He looked out at the city, then at the empty apartment. There was no food in the refrigerator, no shows he wanted to watch on TV, and he couldn't even remember the last time he had done anything for himself.

Perhaps it's time for a change.

“Okay,” he said, “I’ll go.”

“Great!” Sarah’s voice brightened considerably. “I’ll pick you up in half an hour. Remember to bring sunglasses; the Florida sun is very strong.”

"OK."

“And,” Sarah added, “don’t wear a suit.”

Lynn glanced down at her T-shirt and jeans. "I wasn't planning on wearing a suit."

"That's good. See you in half an hour."

The phone hangs up.

Lynn stood there, coffee cup still in his hand, feeling as if the conversation had just happened was a dream. He, an FBI agent in his thirties, had just agreed to go to Disneyland with his partner.

This really feels out of place.

But at the same time, he also felt a strange sense of anticipation. It had been a long time since he had done something purely for fun. Perhaps this was exactly what he needed—a day without thinking about work, the fraternity, or the dangers that could arise at any moment, just like an ordinary person, going to a happy place and enjoying a relaxing day.

He quickly packed his things—wallet, phone, sunglasses, and a light jacket in case he got cold on the plane. He hesitated for a moment, then ultimately decided to leave the gun at home. He didn't need a gun to go to Disneyland.

Just as he was about to leave, his gaze fell on a document on the coffee table—the investigation report on Erin Shaw that he had brought back the night before.

He picked up the document, glanced at it, and then put it in the drawer.

Today is not a workday. Today is a day off.

Half an hour later, Sarah's car stopped downstairs at his apartment building.

She drove a silver Honda Civic, its body clean and tidy, with a faint lavender scent inside. Sarah wore a light blue dress and white canvas shoes, her hair tied in a ponytail, and large sunglasses; she looked nothing like the FBI agent who had been exchanging fire with armed thugs just yesterday.

“Get in the car,” she said. “We have to catch our flight.”

Lynn got into the car and fastened her seatbelt. Sarah started the engine, and the car drove into the streets of Manhattan.

“You look different,” Lynn said, looking her up and down.

"What's the meaning?"

"I mean, it doesn't look like work."

Sarah laughed. "That's the point. We're not FBI agents today; we're just two ordinary people at Disneyland. So, relax, Lynn. Put away that FBI poker face." (End of Chapter)