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

“We know your name is Marcus Ryan,” Agent Harrison said, his voice calm and patient. “Twenty-six years old, born in Chicago, served three years in the Marine Corps, and has sniper training. After your discharge, you disappeared from the system until today.”

Marcus did not respond, but stared blankly at the wall.

“Do you know the charges you face?” Harrison continued, “First-degree murder, assaulting a federal agent, involvement in a terrorist organization. These charges combined are enough to keep you in prison for the rest of your life.”

“I want a lawyer,” Marcus finally said, his voice cold and resolute.

"Of course, you have the right to hire a lawyer. But until the lawyer arrives, we can chat casually. I just want to know about you—how did you join the fraternity? What makes you believe in their ideals?"

Marcus fell silent.

Lynn watched this scene and knew that standard interrogation methods were unlikely to work on this type of person. Marcus was a professionally trained soldier; he knew how to resist interrogation and that remaining silent was his best option.

He turned and walked towards the conference room at the end of the corridor. Sarah, Kevin, and Deputy Director Morrison were already waiting there.

"How is the interrogation going?" Morrison asked.

“Not good,” Lynn said, sitting down at the table. “He’s demanding a lawyer, and he doesn’t seem to be cooperating.”

“As expected,” Morrison sighed. “These people are well-trained and know how to handle interrogations.”

"What about the warehouse?" Lynn asked. "Did they find anything of value?"

“The technicians are still searching,” Sarah said. “They’ve found some weapons, communications equipment, and some documents. But the most important thing—explosives—hasn’t been found.”

“Perhaps they’ve already moved,” Kevin said. “Like Agent Lynn said, that truck took something away this morning.”

“We’re tracking that truck,” Morrison said. “Its license plate is fake, but we have photos of it leaving and are tracing its route through our surveillance system.”

Lynn nodded, then voiced his biggest fear: "Tony told me before he died that the Brotherhood is planning to attack Times Square in three days."

There was silence in the conference room.

“Times Square,” Morrison repeated, his voice deepening, “Are you sure he meant Times Square?”

“One hundred percent certain,” Lynn said. “He also said they had ‘enough explosives to flatten the whole square.’ I don’t know how accurate his statement is, but if there’s any possibility—”

“We must take this seriously,” Morrison interrupted him. “More than three hundred thousand people pass through Times Square every day. If an explosion were to occur, the casualties would be catastrophic.”

“Three days,” Sarah said, “which is Friday. Times Square gets much more crowded on Fridays; there are usually all sorts of events and shows that night.”

“We need to strengthen security in Times Square,” Morrison said. “Deploy more police officers, increase surveillance, and set up security checkpoints. At the same time, we must continue to track down the explosive device and find it before they act.”

“And what about those two suspects who escaped?” Lynn said. “They might know more. Kevin, can you continue analyzing their patterns of behavior to see if there’s any way to predict where they might go?”

“I’ll do my best,” Kevin said. “I’ve gathered records of their activities around the apartment building; maybe we can find some clues.”

“And then there’s the burglary,” Lynn continued. “If those two people are really connected to the burglary, maybe we can find them by investigating the case.”

"Do you think the burglaries are related to the Brotherhood's terrorist attacks?" Morrison asked.

“I’m not sure,” Lynn admitted, “but there are too many coincidences. Those two came out of the Brotherhood’s warehouse and then went to the area Kevin analyzed as the intruder’s hideout. There must be some connection.”

He paused, gathering his thoughts. "Perhaps burglaries are their source of funding? Or is that mutant who can walk through walls one of their members? We need more information to determine this."

“Alright,” Morrison stood up. “The top priority now is to prevent the possible attack in three days. Lynn, you continue to investigate the Brotherhood. Sarah, you coordinate the increased security at Times Square. Kevin, you continue analyzing the data and see if you can find any more patterns.”

“Yes, Deputy Director,” the three men said in unison.

“And,” Morrison added, “from now on, everyone is on call 24/7. This could be one of the most dangerous situations we’ve ever faced. I don’t want to see any accidents.”

He left the meeting room, leaving Lynn, Sarah, and Kevin alone.

“Three days,” Sarah said, looking out at the Manhattan skyline, “to stop a terrorist attack that could kill tens of thousands of people in three days.”

“We’ve done much harder things before,” Lynn said, though he wasn’t sure how convincing that statement was.

“Really?” Kevin asked, a hint of unease in his voice. “Something harder than that?”

Lynn looked at the young man and saw the tension and fear in his eyes. That was normal—any normal person would be afraid in that situation. But Lynn also saw something else—determination, a determination to prove himself.

“Listen to me, Kevin,” he said. “This job is never easy. There will be pressure, fear, and doubt. But when it’s all over, when you know you’ve saved innocent lives and stopped an evil plan… that feeling is indescribable. That’s why we do this job.”

Kevin nodded, his gaze hardening. "I won't let you down, Agent Lynn."

"I know you won't."

Lynn stood up, patted Kevin on the shoulder, and walked towards the door. "Now, let's find those explosives and stop those lunatics."

He walked out of the conference room and headed towards the interrogation room. Perhaps Marcus Ryan was unwilling to speak, but Lynn had his own methods.

In this race against time, he must try every possibility.

The atmosphere in the interrogation room remained tense. Agent Harrison had tried all sorts of conventional interrogation techniques—intimidation, bribery, psychological manipulation—but Marcus was like a stone, unmoved by anything.

Lynn knocked on the door and then went inside.

“I’ll take over,” he said to Harrison. Harrison nodded, stood up, and left the interrogation room.

Lynn sat down opposite Marcus, with a metal table between them. The room was quiet, with only the low hum of the air conditioner in the background.

“Do you know who I am?” Lynn asked.

Marcus looked up at him with a cold gaze. "You're the bastard who shot me on the roof."

“That’s right,” Lynn said. “I’m one of those people who’s been investigating the Brotherhood for a long time. I’ve seen what you’ve done—the explosions, the deaths, the broken families.”

"so what?"

“So I want to ask you a question,” Lynn leaned forward, looking directly into Marcus’s eyes, “You joined the Brotherhood because you believed in their ideals, or because you had nowhere else to go?”

Marcus was silent for a moment, then sneered. "You think you can use psychological tactics to sway me? Give me a break. I'm not the kind of case you practice with in academy."

“I’m not using tactics,” Lynn said. “I genuinely want to know. You’re a Marine veteran, the best trained, someone who swore an oath to protect this country. What turned you from a protector into a killer?”

“Protectors?” Marcus’s voice suddenly turned sharp. “Do you know what I went through during my service? Do you know what we did in Afghanistan? We killed so many people, including civilians and children. And the government told us it was ‘collateral damage,’ a ‘necessary sacrifice.’”

A certain light burned in his eyes—anger, and pain.

"What did I get after I was discharged? A discharge certificate, a shelter full of homeless veterans, and a bunch of PTSD cases that nobody cared about. This country used us and then threw us away like trash."

"So you've decided to join a terrorist organization and kill innocent people?" Lynn's voice remained calm. "Is this your way of taking revenge?"

“It’s not revenge,” Marcus said, “it’s an awakening. The Brotherhood taught me one thing—the order of this world is maintained by the powerful and influential, who use laws and morals to control ordinary people while doing whatever they want themselves. Breaking that order and building a new world—that’s true justice.”

"By killing innocent people?"

“Innocent?” Marcus sneered again. “Do you know what the man I killed today—Tony—did in the past? He transported weapons for the Brotherhood, helped plan attacks, and killed many people. Was he innocent?”

“That’s just an excuse you’re making,” Lynn said. “Do you know how many people the Times Square attack plan would have killed? Thousands, maybe more. Most of them were ordinary people—workers, students, tourists, children. What did they do to deserve being killed?”

Marcus's expression stiffened slightly, but quickly returned to its coldness. "Sacrifice is inevitable. For a greater purpose, some must die."

“A bigger goal?” Lynn stood up, placing his hands on the table and looking down at Marcus. “What new world do you think you’re creating? You’re just a bunch of lunatics, satisfying your twisted psychology with violence. When this is all over, when you’re spending the rest of your life in prison, you’ll find that everything you believed was a lie.”

“You won’t catch us,” Marcus’s voice deepened. “The Brotherhood is stronger than you think. Even if you capture me today, many more will step forward tomorrow. You can’t stop us.”

“Perhaps,” Lynn said, “but I will do everything in my power. Starting today, I will hunt down every single one of your members, dismantle every single one of your strongholds, until the Brotherhood is completely wiped out.”

He turned and headed for the door, but stopped before opening it and looked back at Marcus.

“I’ll ask you one more time—where are the explosives? What are the specific time and location of the attack? If you tell me, I can help you get a reduced sentence.”

Marcus simply looked at him silently, offering no reply.

Lynn nodded and then walked out of the interrogation room.

He didn't get any valuable information out of Marcus, but he gained something else—a deeper understanding of the enemy. Marcus wasn't a simple criminal; he was someone who believed he was doing the right thing. This made him more dangerous and more unpredictable.

Lynn walked into the corridor and saw Sarah waiting for him.

"How is it?" she asked.

“He didn’t say anything,” Lynn shook his head. “He’s a tough nut to crack. We need to get intelligence from other sources.”

“There’s been a new discovery at the warehouse,” Sarah said. “The technicians found a destroyed computer, but the hard drive can still be repaired. They’re trying to extract the data.”

“Okay,” Lynn said, “maybe we can find some clues from this.”

They walked together toward the elevator.

“Lynn,” Sarah said, her voice turning serious, “what if we can’t find those explosives? What if they really did attack Times Square on Friday—”

“We will find it,” Lynn interrupted her. “We have no other choice.”

He pressed the elevator button, and the metal door slowly opened.

“Three days,” he said softly. “We only have three days.”

The elevator doors closed, taking them down to the underground technology laboratory.

The technology lab, located on the second basement level of the FBI building, was a spacious space bathed in fluorescent light. The room was filled with various electronic devices—servers, monitors, analytical instruments, and some high-tech gadgets Lynn couldn't name. The air was thick with the odor of plastic, metal, and ozone—the distinctive smell of electronic equipment operating for extended periods.

When Lynn and Sarah entered the lab, several technicians in white coats were busy around a workbench. In the center of the workbench was a charred hard drive, its surface covered with black scorch marks and twisted metal fragments.

“Agent Ashford,” a young female technician wearing thick-rimmed glasses looked up, “you’ve come at the perfect time. We’ve just made some breakthroughs.”

"What breakthrough?" Lynn walked closer to the workbench and looked at the hard drive that looked almost unusable.

"Although this hard drive was physically damaged, some of the platters inside were still intact," the technician said, pointing to a pried-open area on the drive. "We connected it to professional data recovery equipment and successfully extracted about 30% of the data."

“Thirty percent?” Sarah frowned. “Is that enough?” (End of Chapter)