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

Kevin brought some surprising news at 10 a.m.

“Agent Lynn,” he burst into the office, his face beaming with excitement, “I’ve found the intruder!”

"What?" Lynn looked up.

“Those two guys who came out of the warehouse—I’ve been tracking them,” Kevin said. “Yesterday they emptied the Brooklyn apartment, but they left some traces. I tracked their bank transactions and found that one of them rented a new apartment in Queens. I went there this morning to stake it out, and sure enough, I saw one of them appear.”

"You were following him?"

“Yes,” Kevin said, “he went to a hardware store and bought some tools—a lock pick, a glass cutter, and some black bags. These are typical burglary equipment.”

Are you sure it's him?

“I took a picture,” Kevin said, pulling out his phone to show Lynn. The photo showed a tall, thin young man in a dark hoodie paying at a hardware store counter. “This is the tall, thin man we saw outside the warehouse.”

Lynn examined the photograph closely. "Did you follow him back to his place?"

“Yes,” Kevin said. “He went back to his apartment in Queens and hasn’t come out since. I guess he’s waiting to make his move tonight.”

“Well done, Kevin,” Lynn stood up and patted him on the shoulder. “You did a great job.”

Kevin's face broke into a proud smile. "Should we go catch him?"

Lynn thought for a moment. “The main objective tonight is the operation at the shipyard. But if that intruder really is a member of the Brotherhood, he might be carrying out another theft tonight, or involved in the transfer of explosives.”

“We can send someone to monitor him,” Sarah said, walking over; she had clearly overheard their conversation. “If he makes any moves tonight, we’ll track him and see where he goes.”

“Good idea,” Lynn said. “Kevin, you continue to monitor that apartment. Report immediately if he leaves. Don’t try to arrest him alone—he might have mutant abilities, too dangerous.”

“Understood,” Kevin said, his expression turning serious.

The afternoon passed very slowly.

Lynn fidgeted in his office, constantly checking his watch, inspecting equipment, and flipping through documents. His nerves were taut, like a string about to snap.

Sarah worked silently beside him, occasionally glancing up at him, but saying nothing.

At 4:30, Kevin sent the first report: The target did not leave the apartment, everything is normal.

At 5:15, the second report came in: the lights were on in the apartment, and the target seemed to be preparing something.

At 6:00 AM sharp, the third report came in: The target has left the house and is heading towards the subway station.

Lynn immediately picked up the walkie-talkie. "Kevin, follow him, but keep your distance. Don't let him spot you."

"Understood, I'm tracking it."

Lynn and Sarah exchanged a glance. "Maybe he's going to participate in the shipyard operation," Sarah said.

“Perhaps,” Lynn said, “but he could also be going to commit a theft. In any case, we need to know where he went.”

For the next hour, Kevin kept sending location updates. His goal was to take the subway from Queens into Manhattan and get off at Times Square station.

"Times Square?" Lynn frowned. "What's he doing there?"

“Perhaps they’re scouting the area,” Sarah said. “If we’re going to attack there tomorrow, it’s reasonable to do some preliminary reconnaissance today.”

Kevin's next message confirmed the speculation: the target was walking around Times Square, seemingly observing something. He stopped at several specific locations and took photos with his phone.

“He’s marking out the locations for explosives,” Lynn said. “It matches the marking map we found on the hard drive.”

At 7:20, the target left Times Square and took the subway towards New Jersey.

“He’s heading to the shipyard,” Lynn stood up. “Kevin, continue tracking him, but don’t enter the shipyard area. Wait for our tactical team to arrive before proceeding.”

"receive."

Lynn glanced at his watch. There were still over two hours until the operation was scheduled to begin. "We should get going."

The tactical team's vehicles emerged from the FBI building's underground parking garage at 8 p.m. and headed towards New Jersey along the highway. The convoy consisted of five vehicles: two black armored SUVs carrying tactical personnel, a command vehicle, and two civilian vehicles serving as the lead and rearguard.

Lynn sat in the command vehicle, maintaining contact with the various units via radio. Sarah sat beside him, holding a tablet computer displaying live surveillance footage of the area surrounding the shipyard.

"Kevin, report," a voice came through the walkie-talkie, "the target has entered the shipyard area and is moving towards Warehouse Twelve."

“Understood,” Lynn replied. “Keep your distance and don’t reveal yourself.”

The convoy passed through the Holland Tunnel and entered New Jersey. The scenery along the road changed from Manhattan's skyscrapers to low-rise industrial buildings and empty parking lots. It was completely dark, and the streetlights cast a dim, yellowish glow, appearing particularly lonely in the cold air.

At 8:45, the convoy arrived at the assembly point outside the shipyard—an abandoned gas station, about 500 meters from the target location.

The tactical personnel began to disembark, check their equipment, and make final preparations. They were dressed in black tactical uniforms, wore night vision goggles, and carried short-barreled submachine guns and assault rifles. Each of them had a serious expression, their eyes revealing a well-trained calmness.

Lynn got out of the car and took a deep breath of the cold air. There was a smell of industrial waste and river water in the air. The shipyard in the distance looked like a huge ghost in the darkness, with only a few scattered lights shining from the warehouse windows.

"All units report on their readiness," he said over the radio.

"First squad, in position, ready to enter through the main gate."

"Second squad, in position, ready to enter through the back door."

"The third squad is in position, already positioned on the high ground to the east, and can provide sniper support."

"Kevin, how's the target?"

"The target has entered Warehouse Twelve," Kevin's voice came through the walkie-talkie. "I'm in an abandoned building on the north side of the warehouse, and I can see the main entrance. There are currently four men guarding the entrance; their armament is unknown."

“Four people,” Lynn silently calculated. If there were four guards at the door, there were probably more inside. Add to that the intruder who might have mutant abilities.
“Listen up, everyone,” he said. “There may be mutants inside the target building. Stay alert. Report anything unusual immediately.”

"receive."

Lynn glanced at his watch. 9:15. Fifteen minutes until the operation began.

He turned to Sarah. “You and I will go in through the main gate with the first squad.”

"clear."

They headed towards the first squad's assembly point, behind an abandoned shipping container. Tactical personnel were already lined up in two rows, awaiting orders.

“Remember,” Lynn told them, “the primary objective is the explosives. Find them, secure them, and don’t give anyone a chance to detonate them. The secondary objective is to arrest the suspects, preferably alive, but if there is armed resistance, lethal force may be used.” The tacticians nodded in understanding.

9:25.

"All squads, begin moving to target positions," Lynn ordered. "Maintain radio silence until the operation begins."

The three teams began to move stealthily toward the shipyard. Lynn and Sarah followed behind the first team, passing through abandoned equipment and rusty containers, gradually approaching Warehouse Twelve.

The night was dark, the clouds obscured the moonlight, and the whole world seemed to be soaked in ink. Only the lights of the distant city formed a blurry halo on the horizon, like a phantom of another world.

Lynn's heart raced, and adrenaline surged through his veins. He knew this feeling well—the instinctive reaction when danger was imminent. His hand gripped the gun tightly, his finger already on the trigger guard.

They reached a point fifty meters from the warehouse's main entrance, hiding behind a pile of rusty machinery.

Lynn used night vision goggles to survey the warehouse. The main entrance was a large roller shutter door, with a smaller door to the side for people to enter and exit. Four guards stood at the entrance; two were smoking, and two were talking in hushed tones. The outlines of weapons were clearly visible on their waists.

"Second squad in position," a deep voice came through the walkie-talkie.

"Third squad in position, target locked."

Lynn glanced at her watch. 9:29.

“Prepare for action,” he whispered. “Wait for my orders.”

The second hand ticked away, one tick at a time.

It was exactly 9:30.

"action!"

Everything erupted in that instant.

The sniper from the third squad fired first, and two silenced rifle bullets hit the two guards at the door almost simultaneously. They fell to the ground before they could even react.

The remaining two guards turned around in terror, trying to draw their guns, but the first squad had already charged forward. After a short burst of gunfire, they too fell.

"Clear the main entrance!" the tactical captain shouted. "Break through!"

A tactical man used a battering ram to break the lock on the small door, the door panel flew inward, and the tactical man filed in.

Lynn followed closely behind and rushed into the warehouse.

The warehouse was larger than he had imagined. The vast space was filled with various boxes and equipment, and a few dim industrial lights hung overhead, casting swaying shadows in the darkness. The air was thick with the smell of dust, machine oil, and some kind of chemical.

"Federal agents! Everyone down!" the tactical personnel shouted, their flashlight beams sweeping wildly through the darkness.

Chaos erupted immediately.

Gunfire erupted from deep within the warehouse; someone was returning fire. Tactical personnel began seeking cover, suppressing the gunfire in its direction. The sounds of clashing metal, the clatter of spent cartridges hitting the ground, and shouts mingled together, echoing through the empty warehouse.

Lynn hid behind a metal box, quickly assessing the situation.

The enemy's firing positions were mainly concentrated in the rear half of the warehouse, and there appeared to be six or seven men there. Their shooting was very disciplined, and they were clearly professionally trained.

"Second squad reporting!" he shouted over the radio. "What's the situation at the back door?"

"Resistance encountered!" came the loud noise and gunfire over the walkie-talkie. "At least four enemies, we're suppressing them!"

"Third squad, can you see what's going on inside?"

"The windows were too dirty to see clearly. But thermal imaging showed about ten heat sources at the back of the warehouse, five or six of which were moving."

Ten people, Lynn thought. More than he had expected, but still within a manageable range.

"First squad, follow me forward!" he shouted. "Cover each other, don't rush in!"

They began to move forward methodically, using the various cover materials in the warehouse—boxes, shelves, equipment—to gradually tighten the encirclement.

The tactical training of the personnel proved invaluable in this moment. Their coordination was seamless, one providing cover while the other advanced, their suppressive fire precise and effective. The enemy's counterattacks grew increasingly sparse, forcing them into a corner of the warehouse.

"Drop your weapons!" Lynn shouted. "You're surrounded!"

He was met with a hail of gunfire. Bullets struck the metal crate he was hiding in, making a screeching sound. He cowered behind his cover, waiting for the firing to cease.

Then he heard a voice—a woman's voice.

"You think you've won?" The voice echoed in the warehouse, tinged with almost mockery. "This is just the beginning."

Lynn's heart sank. That voice... he recognized that voice.

Eileen Shaw.

“Shaw!” he shouted, “I know you’re there! Give up!”

“Lynn Ashford,” Eileen Shaw’s voice came from the darkness, “we’ve finally met in person. Unfortunately, this meeting is destined to be short-lived.”

Lynn heard a strange buzzing sound, like some kind of machine starting up. Then, all the lights in the warehouse suddenly went out.

Total darkness.

"Turn on your night vision goggles!" Lynn shouted, fumbling to put on his night vision equipment. A green night vision image unfolded before his eyes, but what he saw made him gasp.

There was a huge hole in the floor at the back of the warehouse—an entrance to the underground. Just as he was looking at it, several figures were quickly jumping into the hole and disappearing.

"They're running away!" Lynn rushed forward. "Chase them!"

He ran toward the underground entrance, but just as he got close, a figure suddenly rushed out of the shadows beside him and crashed into him.

Lynn was knocked backward, nearly dropping his gun. He regained his balance and recognized the attacker—the tall, thin young man, the intruder.

“You can’t escape,” the young man said, his eyes gleaming strangely in the darkness. “Let me play with you for a while.”

He charged at Lynn with astonishing speed. Lynn raised his gun and fired, but the bullet passed right through his body—as if it were air.

Phase-shifting ability. He can truly make himself invisible.

The young man's fist grazed past Lynn's chin; had he not leaned back in time, that punch would have knocked him unconscious. Lynn retaliated with his elbow, but his arm also went through the other man's body. (End of Chapter)