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

“It depends on what’s in that 30 percent,” the technician said, turning to a computer beside her and rapidly typing on the keyboard. “I’ll show you what we found.”

A series of folders and documents began to appear on the screen. Lynn noticed that most of the filenames were encrypted random characters, but the names of a few folders caught his attention.

“This,” he pointed to a folder called “TS-0120,” “TS probably stands for Times Square, and 0120 might be the date—January 20th.”

“That is, in three days,” Sarah said, “open it and see.”

The technician clicked on the folder. Inside were more than a dozen files, including several photos, a spreadsheet, and several text documents.

The first photo is an aerial view of Times Square, with several locations marked in red—mainly concentrated in the southeast and northwest corners of the square.

“What do these markings mean?” Lynn asked.

“I’m guessing it’s where the explosives were placed,” the technician said. “Judging from the distribution of the markings, they seem to be trying to create an encirclement to maximize the kill radius of the blast.”

Lynn studied the picture carefully. Times Square is one of the busiest locations in New York, with hundreds of thousands of people passing through every day. If an explosion were to occur in one of these locations, the casualties would be catastrophic.

“What about that spreadsheet?” Sarah asked.

The technician opened the document. The table listed a series of items and quantities—C4 explosives, detonators, timers, and wireless remote control devices.
“Two hundred pounds of C4,” Lynn read out one of the numbers, “divided into eight units, twenty-five pounds each. Enough to turn half a city block into ruins.”

“And this,” the technician pointed to a note at the bottom of the form, “'Delivery location: WH-12, Time: 0119-2200'.”

“WH-12,” Lynn said, “another warehouse. Warehouse number twelve. 0119 is January 19th, which is tomorrow night at 10 PM.”

“They’re transporting explosives somewhere tomorrow night,” Sarah said. “If we can intercept them then—”

“That would stop the attack,” Lynn continued. “The problem is, where is WH-12?”

The technician continued searching through the recovered data. "Wait, there's one more file here. It's a map."

She opened the file, and a hand-drawn map appeared on the screen. Although roughly drawn, it was recognizable as the layout of an industrial area in New Jersey. Several buildings were marked on the map, one of which was circled and labeled "WH-12".

“This place,” Lynn carefully examined the roads and landmarks on the map, “looks to be north of Newark, near the Passey River.”

“Let me check,” the technician said, opening a satellite map on another computer and comparing it to features on a hand-drawn map. A few minutes later, she found a match. “Here. 1247 Riverside Road, North Newark Industrial District. It’s an abandoned shipyard with a dozen or so warehouses.”

Lynn stared at the satellite image on the screen. The abandoned shipyard was a gray complex of buildings, surrounded by rusty cranes and scattered containers. A river flowed by, and a dilapidated dock stretched out onto the water.

This is the perfect hiding place—remote, abandoned, and close to waterways, making it convenient for transporting large goods.

“What else is in the text document?” he asked.

The technician opened the documents one by one. Most of them were encrypted gibberish and unreadable. However, one document was partially readable, listing some names and codes.

“These are likely the people involved in the operation,” Lynn said, glancing at the list. “Marcus Ryan is on it, codenamed ‘Shooter.’ There are a few other names we don’t recognize… and so on.”

His finger stopped on a name. "Eileen Shaw."

“That woman?” Sarah leaned closer to look. “Is she one of the leaders of the fraternity?”

“Tony mentioned her before,” Lynn said. “It seems she’s not just an ordinary member. According to this list, her codename is ‘The Queen.’”

He continued reading and found a footnote at the end of the list, but most of the text was damaged, and only a few words were legible: ".Coordinate Underground Twenty-Three Points"

“This information isn’t complete,” he said, “but at least we know the time and place of the operation. Tomorrow night at ten o’clock, at the abandoned shipyard north of Newark.”

“We need to inform Morrison,” Sarah said, “to organize a raid.”

Lynn nodded, but other questions were still swirling in his mind. Was the data genuine, or was it a deliberate misdirection left by the Brotherhood? Did they know the hard drive could be recovered? Could this be another trap?
“Before that,” he said, “I want to see if there’s any other useful information.”

They spent another hour sifting through the recovered data. Although most of the files were corrupted or encrypted, they found some valuable fragments—a remnant of an address book with several phone numbers; a blurry photograph showing several people standing next to a truck; and an encrypted chat log, which, while not fully decipherable, contained keywords such as "cargo," "cleanup," and "evacuation."

“These people are very professional,” Lynn said. “The way they destroyed evidence shows they knew they could be traced. But they also made a mistake—they underestimated our technological recovery capabilities.”

“Or perhaps they deliberately left this information,” Sarah said, a hint of worry in her voice, “to lure us in.”

“Possibly,” Lynn admitted, “but we have no other choice. If this information is true, tomorrow night is our last chance to stop the attack.”

He glanced at his watch. It was already six o'clock in the evening, and there were only about twenty-eight hours left until the operation the following night.

“Let’s go,” he said. “We need to come up with a plan.”

The atmosphere in the meeting room was tense and oppressive.

Deputy Director Morrison sat at one end of the long table, his expression serious. Lynn, Sarah, and Kevin sat on either side, along with several personnel from the tactical team and intelligence analysis department. A large screen on the wall displayed satellite images and floor plans of the abandoned shipyard.

“Based on the data we’ve recovered,” Lynn said, standing in front of the screen, “the Brotherhood plans to move the explosives out of this shipyard by 10 p.m. tomorrow. Warehouse Twelve is their main base, and the explosives are likely stored there.”

He pointed a laser pointer at a building on the screen. “Warehouse Twelve is located in the southeast corner of the shipyard, near the dock. It has two main entrances—a front door and a back door—as well as several windows. Surrounded by other abandoned buildings and some rusty equipment, it provides ample cover.”

“How many people can we mobilize?” Morrison asked.

The tactical team leader, a burly Black man, replied, “I can mobilize two tactical squads, twenty-four men in total. If more support is needed, the Newark Police Department can provide additional manpower.” “No Newark Police,” Lynn said. “We don’t know if the Brotherhood has any informants there. This operation must be kept secret, and the fewer people involved, the better.”

Morrison nodded in agreement. "Then we'll use our own people. Go on, what's your plan?"

Lynn turned to the screen and began to describe his plan of action.

"We need to enter from three directions simultaneously. The first squad will storm in through the front door, which is the most direct route and also the most likely to encounter resistance. The second squad will enter through the back door, responsible for blocking the enemy's retreat. The third squad will infiltrate through the side windows, responsible for high ground suppression and sniper support."

He marked three directions of attack on the screen. "The operation is scheduled for 9:30 PM, half an hour earlier than their planned relocation. This will catch them off guard and give us control of the situation before they begin moving the explosives."

“What if there are mutants inside?” Kevin asked. “The Dreamweavers are dead, but they might have other members with special abilities.”

“It’s a risk,” Lynn admitted. “We don’t know exactly who’s inside. But based on the information we have so far, the Brotherhood’s core fighting force relies primarily on well-trained human members, with mutants used more as ‘special weapons’ in critical moments.”

“What about that intruder who can walk through walls?” Sarah said. “If he’s a member of the fraternity, he might be there tomorrow night too.”

Lynn thought for a moment. "Kevin, have you made any new discoveries in your analysis of the intruder?"

Kevin opened his notebook. "Based on my analysis, the intruder's modus operandi is very regular—he only operates on Thursday or Friday nights, and targets only a specific type of person. If he's connected to the fraternity, he's likely a 'freelancer,' only called upon when needed."

“Tomorrow is Thursday,” Lynn said. “If he follows his usual pattern, he might commit another theft.”

“Or he might be involved in tomorrow night’s operation,” Sarah said.

“Regardless, we need to be prepared to deal with mutants,” Lynn turned to the tactical team leader. “Do you have any special equipment? Something that can limit or suppress mutant abilities?”

“We have some experimental equipment,” the team leader said, “including electromagnetic pulse transmitters and specially designed restraint devices. But the effectiveness of these things depends on the specific abilities of the mutants; there is no universal solution.”

“Take them with you,” Lynn said. “Use them if they work, or at least have a backup.”

He looked at Morrison. "Deputy Director, is any further approval required?"

Morrison paused for a moment, seemingly weighing his options. "This operation is very risky," he finally said. "Our intelligence source is a damaged hard drive, its reliability is questionable. And we don't know the exact number of enemies or their equipment."

“I understand,” Lynn said, “but if we don’t act, Times Square could explode the day after tomorrow, and thousands could die. It’s a risk we have to take.”

Morrison looked at him, then slowly nodded. “Alright. Operation approved. But I need your assurance of one thing—if the situation gets out of control, retreat immediately. I don't want to see any unnecessary casualties.”

"Understood, Deputy Director."

After the meeting, everyone began their preparations. The tactical team checked their equipment and devised detailed entry routes; the intelligence analysts continued to study the shipyard's layout, searching for possible hidden exits and defensive positions; Lynn remained in the conference room, staring alone at the satellite images on the screen.

"What are you thinking about?" Sarah walked in, holding two cups of coffee, and handed him one.

“I’m thinking about Eileen Shaw,” Lynn said, taking a sip of her coffee. “She’s the key figure in all of this, but we know almost nothing about her. Why did she plan this attack? What was her purpose?”

“Maybe she’s just a madwoman,” Sarah said, “wanting to create chaos and fear.”

“No,” Lynn shook his head, “the Brotherhood isn’t your average terrorist organization. They’re organized, well-funded, and have highly trained members. It all requires careful planning and management. Erin Shaw isn’t crazy; she’s a person with a purpose. The question is, what is her purpose?”

"Perhaps we can get the truth out of her once we catch her."

“If we can catch her,” Lynn said, a hint of uncertainty in his voice, “she’s been very careful so far, never showing herself in dangerous places. She probably won’t be in the warehouse tomorrow night either.”

“Then we’ll track her down,” Sarah said. “There’s bound to be a clue.”

Lynn didn't answer, she just kept staring at the screen.

It was completely dark outside. The lights of Manhattan flickered outside the window, and countless people were going about their ordinary lives, unaware that a disaster was approaching.

He thought of Times Square—that neon-lit intersection where so many people passed by every day, taking photos, shopping, and watching shows. If the explosion actually happened, those joyful faces would turn into fear and pain.

He can't let that happen.

“Go home and rest,” he said to Sarah. “Tomorrow will be a long day.”

"And you?"

“I’ll stay a little longer,” Lynn said. “I want to take another look at the data to make sure nothing is missed.”

Sarah looked at him, as if she wanted to say something, but in the end she just nodded. "Don't stay up too late."

After she left, Lynn sat alone in the empty conference room, continuing to study the recovered documents.

Outside the window, the city lights flickered in the night, like countless eyes watching him.

The next day, January 19th.

The sky was overcast, thick clouds obscuring the sun and casting a gray hue over the entire city. The weather forecast predicted snow for the night, with temperatures expected to drop below freezing.

Lynn arrived at the office early in the morning to continue preparing for the night's operation. He reviewed all the intelligence data, confirmed the communication channels and codes with the tactical team, and personally checked his equipment—bulletproof vest, pistol, spare magazines, handcuffs, flashlight, and a folding knife. (End of Chapter)