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

“I understand,” Kevin said. “Mutants are human first, and mutants are mutants second.”

“Very good,” Lynn said, “you learn very quickly.”

Just then, Sarah's phone rang. She answered it, listened for a moment, then hung up and turned to Lynn.

“There’s a case,” she said. “There’s a burglary in Brooklyn where the victim reported that the burglar might be a mutant—he saw the burglar walk through the wall and leave. The local police have asked for our assistance.”

“Sounds like a mutant with phase-shifting abilities,” Lynn said, “able to pass through solid matter.”

“It could be invisibility, or some kind of illusion,” Sarah added. “Anyway, we need to go and see.”

Lynn stood up and picked up his coat. “Kevin, come with me. This is your first field case.”

Kevin's eyes lit up, and he immediately jumped up to follow.

The three of them traveled to Brooklyn in a federal vehicle. Lynn drove, Sarah sat in the passenger seat, and Kevin sat in the back with a notebook, ready to jot down any important information.

“Before we get to the scene,” Lynn said as he drove, “there are a few things to keep in mind. First, we’re going to assist the local police, not take over the case. Be polite and respect their work.”

“Understood,” Kevin said.

"Second, when communicating with victims or witnesses, avoid directly asking questions like, 'Did you see a mutant?' This will make them feel that you are questioning their testimony or that you are biased against mutants. Let them describe what they saw themselves, and then you can make a judgment."

"OK."

“Third,” Lynn glanced in the rearview mirror, “stay calm. No matter what you see, no matter what happens, don’t panic. Panic will lead you to make wrong judgments and will also make those around you uneasy.”

Kevin nodded and wrote down the key points in his notebook.

The crime scene was a two-story detached house in a middle-class neighborhood in Brooklyn, with a small garden and a gravel driveway. Several police cars were parked in front, yellow police tape was in place, and several uniformed officers were patrolling the area.

Lynn parked the car on the side of the road, and the three of them got out and walked towards the house.

“FBI,” Lynn showed her badge to the police officer at the door, “we’re here to assist with an investigation.”

The police checked their identification, then nodded and let them in.

The house was a mess. The sofa in the living room was overturned, the vase on the coffee table was broken, the television was torn down from the wall, and several paintings were hanging crookedly. Clearly, the intruders had conducted a thorough search.

An undercover detective approached and introduced himself as Detective Inspector Green of the Brooklyn Police Department.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” said Green, a man in his forties with tired wrinkles on his face. “This case is a bit tricky.”

"Could you tell me more about it?" Lynn asked.

“The victims were Mr. and Mrs. Howard,” Green pointed to a corner of the house where a middle-aged couple sat, the woman crying while the man, looking shocked, comforted her. “They returned home around eleven last night to find the house ransacked. They called the police, and we conducted a preliminary investigation upon arrival.”

What items were stolen?

“It’s mostly cash and jewelry,” Green said, “along with a laptop and some electronic devices. The total value is around $100,000.”

"Mr. Howard said he saw the intruder?"

“Yes,” Green said, “that’s why we asked you to come. He said when he got home he saw someone standing in the living room. He yelled, and the person—” he hesitated, “disappeared through the wall.”

“Go through the wall,” Lynn repeated, “Will Mr. Howard be available for questioning now?”

“It should be possible,” Green said. “He’s already given a presentation, but you might want to hear it for yourselves.”

Lynn nodded, then turned to Kevin. “Kevin, you do the questioning. I'll watch from the side.”

Kevin paused, clearly not expecting Lynn to let him lead the questioning. "Me? But I—"

“This is the best way to learn,” Lynn said. “I’ll help you if you need it. Go.”

Kevin took a deep breath, straightened his back, and walked towards the Howards. Lynn followed behind, keeping a few steps away.

“Mr. Howard, Mrs. Howard,” Kevin approached them, showing his badge, “I’m FBI Agent Kevin Zhang, and this is Agent Lynn Ashford. We’d like to ask you a few questions, is that alright?”

Mr. Howard—a balding man in his fifties wearing wire-rimmed glasses—looked up and nodded. “Of course. I’ve already told the police, but if you need to.”

“Thank you for your cooperation,” Kevin said, his voice a little nervous but trying to remain professional. “Could you describe what you saw last night?”

Mr. Howard took a deep breath and began to speak.

“My wife and I went out to a friend’s dinner party last night. We got home around 11 p.m., and when I opened the door, I noticed something was wrong—the lights were on, even though we had turned them off when we left. I went into the living room, and that’s when I saw him.”

“Him?” Kevin asked. “Could you describe that person?”

"A man, probably around thirty years old, dressed in black and wearing a hat. I couldn't see his face clearly, but he was very thin and about 1.8 meters tall."

"Then what?"

“I yelled, and he turned and looked at me, and then—” Mr. Howard’s voice trembled, “he just passed through the wall. I mean, really passed through it, as if the wall didn’t exist. His body became translucent, and then disappeared into the wall.”

Kevin frowned, as if deep in thought. Then he asked a question that made Lynn frown.

"Mr. Howard, are you sure what you saw was real? I mean, is it possible that it was a problem with the lighting, or that you were hallucinating from the shock?"

Mr. Howard's expression changed instantly. A flicker of anger and hurt flashed in his eyes. "Are you implying I'm lying?" he raised his voice, "or do you think I'm crazy?"

“No, no, that’s not what I meant—” Kevin panicked and tried to explain.

“I know what I saw!” Mr. Howard stood up, visibly agitated. “I’m not senile, my eyesight is excellent! That person walked right through the wall, I saw it with my own eyes!”

Mrs. Howard stood up as well, gripping her husband's arm tightly, trying to calm him down. "Darling, calm down."

“I don’t need to calm down!” Mr. Howard shook off his wife’s hand. “Our house has been broken into, our things have been stolen, and now this FBI agent is implying I’m making up a story!”

Lynn realized the situation was getting out of control. He strode forward and said in a calm but authoritative voice:

“Mr. Howard, please calm down. My colleague isn’t questioning your testimony; he’s just confirming all the details. In a federal investigation, we need to rule out all possibilities—that’s standard procedure, not directed at you personally.”

Mr. Howard looked at Lynn, his chest still heaving, but his anger seemed to have subsided slightly.

“I understand how you feel,” Lynn continued, his tone gentle. “You and your wife have just gone through a terrible ordeal; anyone would feel angry and upset in this situation. We’re here to help you, to find the intruder, and to recover your belongings. Please trust us.”

Mr. Howard stared at Lynn for a while, then sighed deeply and sat down again.

“I’m sorry,” he said, his voice low, “I was just too nervous. I’ve never experienced anything like this before.”

“Completely understandable,” Lynn said. “Can you tell me what you did after that person disappeared through the wall?”

“I stood there stunned for a while,” Mr. Howard said. “I thought I was dreaming. Then I checked the whole house and found that all the valuables were gone. I immediately called the police.”

"Before that person disappeared, did you notice anything unusual about him? Like tattoos, scars, or distinctive clothing?"

Mr. Howard thought for a moment. “He was wearing black gloves, the kind that are tight. And... his eyes. When he looked at me, his eyes seemed to be shining. Not very bright, but with a faint glow.”

“Glowing eyes,” Lynn nodded, “Anything else?”

“No,” Mr. Howard shook his head. “Everything happened too fast; I didn’t have time to see any more.”

“Thank you, Mr. Howard,” Lynn said. “The information you provided is invaluable. We will do everything we can to find this person.”

He gestured for Kevin to leave with him, and the two walked to the other side of the room, out of the Howards' hearing range.

“I messed up,” Kevin said, his head bowed, his voice filled with frustration. “I shouldn’t have asked that.”

“You did make a mistake,” Lynn said, stating a fact rather than blaming him. “Your question implied that you doubted his testimony, which is highly inappropriate given that the victim has just experienced trauma.”

“I just want to rule out other possibilities,” Kevin said. “Like you said, we need to confirm all the details—”

“Ruling out possibilities is necessary, but the way you do it matters,” Lynn interrupted him. “You can’t just ask someone, ‘Are you sure what you saw is real?’ That’s like saying, ‘I think you’re lying or you’re crazy.’ Even if that’s not what you mean, that’s what they’ll interpret.”

Kevin lowered his head, unsure of what to say.

“Try another approach,” Lynn said, “you could ask, ‘What were the lighting conditions like at the time? Where were you standing? How far was you from that person?’ These questions can also help you assess the reliability of the testimony, but without making the other party feel questioned.”

“I understand,” Kevin said.

“One more thing,” Lynn continued, “When communicating with victims, build trust first, then gather information. If you start by asking an aggressive question, it immediately puts them on the defensive. If you express sympathy and understanding first, making them feel that you are on their side, they will be more willing to cooperate.”

Kevin nodded, carefully memorizing these key points.

“However,” Lynn’s tone softened, “your instinct is correct. In an investigation, we do need to question every testimony and not blindly believe everything. The problem is just the method. Just be more careful next time.”

“Thank you,” Kevin said. “I’ll remember that.”

They continued their investigation at the scene for a while, examining possible routes the intruder might have taken to enter and leave. Lynn discovered that although Mr. Howard had said the intruder had walked through the wall and left, there were signs that the back door of the house had been pried open—indicating that the intruder had entered through the back door and only used his ability to escape.

“This is an experienced thief,” Lynn told Sarah and Kevin. “He knows how to bypass alarm systems, where to look for valuables, and how to use his abilities to escape in a crisis.”

“You think he’s a repeat offender?” Sarah asked.

“Very likely,” Lynn said. “When we get back, we’ll check the database to see if there are any similar cases—victims reporting seeing intruders walk through walls or disappear. If so, we might be able to find this person’s pattern of action.”

They left Howard's house and drove back to the FBI building.

Back in his office, Kevin immediately sat down at his computer and began searching the database. Watching him work so diligently, Lynn was reminded of her own younger self—eager to prove herself, eager to make amends for her mistakes.

“Found it,” Kevin said about twenty minutes later. “There have been seven similar burglaries in Brooklyn and Queens in the past six months, with victims reporting seeing the intruders ‘disappear’ or ‘pass through the wall.’ The stolen items were mainly cash, jewelry, and electronic devices, with a total value exceeding $500,000.”

"Seven cases," Lynn walked over and looked at the screen, "and none of them have resulted in arrests?"

“Yes,” Kevin said. “Local police classified these cases as ordinary thefts because there was no evidence of mutant involvement. The victims’ testimonies were considered ‘unreliable’ or ‘hallucinations due to shock.’”

“That’s why we need to exist,” Lynn said. “Regular police officers haven’t received training related to mutants; they don’t know how to handle these kinds of cases.”

“So what do we do now?” Kevin asked.

“Analyze the commonalities among these seven cases,” Lynn said, “the time, the location, the type of victim, and the type of items stolen. Find the pattern, and then predict the next target.”

Kevin nodded and began organizing the data.

Lynn walked to the window and looked at the city outside. It was just an ordinary burglary, insignificant compared to major cases like fraternity attacks or terrorist attacks. But it was part of their job—not every day was a sensational case; most of the time they dealt with these seemingly mundane matters. (End of Chapter)