American comic book: I, with my abundant martial virtue, love to do good to others.

Chapter 207 Excellent Agents

"So, your agents have been captured," Caleb said casually, leaning back in his chair. "This is what you call 'controlling the situation'? How laughable."

Lynn did not respond; he simply stared at Caleb quietly, like a raptor patiently waiting for its prey to make a mistake.

Caleb raised an eyebrow, seemingly wanting to break the silence, "Let me guess—their condition is to exchange me, right?"

"You're right," Lynn finally spoke, her voice unsettlingly calm, "but you know,

I won't do that.

"Oh?" Caleb feigned surprise. "What about your colleagues? Isn't the FBI's motto 'Never abandon anyone'?"

Lynn leaned slightly closer to Caleb and whispered, "You overestimate your own worth. The Holy Blood Alliance is using you as bait, but to me, you're just a pawn, a pawn that must be kept."

Caleb's smile froze for a moment, but he quickly recovered. "You think you can pry open the secrets of the Holy Blood Alliance from me? Lynn, you know nothing about this game."

"Perhaps." Lynn straightened up, his eyes cold. "But I know one thing—what you're afraid of isn't us, but your superiors. They won't give you any chance to escape."

Caleb did not answer, but a sinister glint flashed in his eyes.

Lynn turned and walked out of the interrogation room, leaving Caleb alone to face the oppressive silence.

When Jason woke up, all around him was deathly silent, the air thick with the smell of chemicals. The overhead light was dim, flickering and emitting a harsh crackling sound. He blinked, feeling his hands bound to a metal chair behind him, the rough ropes digging deep into his wrists, burning his skin. His head still throbbed, probably from the electric shock.

He slowly looked around. The room wasn't large; rusty tools and empty chemical bottles were scattered on the concrete floor. The walls were peeling and crumbling, clearly an abandoned factory that hadn't been maintained in a long time. His mind was a mess, but after a moment, memories flooded back—he'd been captured, Lynn must already know he was missing, and the Holy Blood Alliance was likely using him to threaten the FBI.

"No, I can't just wait like this," Jason muttered to himself, slowly shifting his body in the chair, trying to find a way to move. His eyes quickly scanned the floor, looking for anything he could use.

Not far to the left of the chair, he saw a rusty piece of metal, perhaps a fragment that had broken off from the wall. It wasn't large, but its edges looked sharp enough to cut a rope.

"That's it." Jason gritted his teeth, focusing his gaze on the metal plate. He took a deep breath, trying to adjust his center of gravity, and slowly moved closer to the metal plate using the back legs of the chair. The bottom of the chair made a faint creaking sound as it scraped against the ground. He moved cautiously, afraid of alerting the guards outside.

Time seemed to stretch out, each movement making his heart race. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead, and his muscles throbbed with tension. After a few minutes, he finally moved the chair close enough. He slowly lowered his head, his hands, bound behind his back, groping for the metal plate. When his fingers touched the cold metal, he couldn't help but feel a surge of joy.

He gripped the metal plate tightly with his palm and began sawing at the rope bit by bit. The rope was strong, but the sharp edge of the metal plate still caused it to gradually loosen. His wrists were cut and bleeding from the friction, but he didn't stop, gritting his teeth and persevering.

Just as the rope was about to be completely cut, footsteps sounded outside. Jason stopped moving, held his breath, and pressed his ear against the back of the chair, trying to discern the number and direction of the footsteps.

"Is he still inside?" a deep voice came from outside the door.

"Of course, you can't escape," another voice replied, with a disdainful tone.

"The boss said he has to live. They're going to use this guy to get Caleb back."

"What a nuisance. If it weren't for orders from above, I would have taken care of him long ago."

The footsteps faded into the distance, suggesting the two men were merely on patrol and had no intention of entering the room. Jason breathed a sigh of relief, but a growing sense of urgency filled him. He knew such opportunities were rare. He lowered his head and quickened his movements; a few seconds later, the rope finally snapped.

His wrists were instantly freed, but numb from being bound for so long. He quickly moved his wrists, then stood up from the chair. His eyes scanned his surroundings, searching for the tools for his next move.

There were some old tools piled up in the corner, including a long iron bar and a rusty screwdriver. He picked up the screwdriver, gripped it tightly in his hand, and then carefully walked towards the door.

He pressed himself lightly against the door, his ear against the cold iron door, trying to hear anything outside. There seemed to be no footsteps in the corridor, but he knew that didn't mean he was safe.

Jason slowly pushed the door open, only cracking it shut. His eyes quickly scanned the corridor outside, and only after confirming there were no guards did he fully open the door. The corridor was dimly lit, with footprints and cigarette butts scattered on the floor. He held his breath and tiptoed along the wall towards the outside.

Every step felt like walking on a knife's edge; his heart was pounding so hard it felt like it would jump out of his chest. He knew...

Once discovered, there may not be a second chance.

Suddenly, he heard hushed conversation coming from around the corner ahead. He quickly retreated and hid in a nearby storage room, closing the door and leaving only a crack to observe the outside.

Two guards were walking slowly down the corridor, their steps deliberate, weapons at their hands. They moved slowly, seemingly inspecting each room carefully.

"Do we really have to be this careful?" one of the guards complained. "This place has been cleared; he can't escape."

"Don't be careless," the other man said coldly. "Jansen is an agent; his patience and skills are far more impressive than you think."

Jason's breathing slowed; he knew this was his best chance. After the guards passed by...

He quietly pushed open the door, quickly slipped out of the storage room, and ran down the opposite corridor.

He ran lightly, but his speed was not slow. Finally, he found an exit leading outside. It was a dilapidated iron gate with a rusty lock hanging on it.

Jason took out a screwdriver, forcefully inserted it into the keyhole, and began to pry. Just then, a shout suddenly came from the corridor behind him—the guards had discovered he wasn't in the room.

"He ran away! After him!"

Jason's movements became even more frantic, the screwdriver tip spinning rapidly, emitting a piercing metallic scraping sound. A few seconds later, the lock finally snapped. He pushed open the iron door, and a gust of cold wind rushed in.

Outside was a vast, abandoned area, with dim lights and faint sounds of vehicles in the distance. Without hesitation, he rushed out.

The guards chased after him, bullets whistling past, striking the ground and abandoned machinery around him. Jason gritted his teeth, quickly weaving through the area, using the abandoned vehicles and equipment as cover.

"Stop him!" someone roared, and more pursuers surged out.

Jason was nearly exhausted, but he forced himself to keep going. He knew that if he could hold out until the FBI arrived, he would survive. As he ran, he pulled a small tracking device from his pocket, which he had secretly found in the storage room before his escape. He turned on the device and threw it onto a high metal rack, hoping that Lynn and Hans would receive the signal.

Suddenly, an abandoned truck appeared before him. He quickly climbed into the driver's seat, opened the door, and forcefully turned the ignition switch. A few seconds later, the truck roared to life.

"Don't let him drive away!" The guards behind him opened fire wildly, bullets shattering the windshield, but Jason had already stepped on the gas, and the truck shot forward, kicking up a cloud of dust.

He drove the truck out of the abandoned site and headed towards the distant lights. His gaze was resolute; although there were still pursuers behind him, he knew he had seized the initiative.

"Hang in there, Lynn," he whispered. "I'll come back alive."

At the same time, Jensen's signal suddenly came through Lynn's communicator. Hans's voice was filled with surprise and tension: "Lynn! Jensen's tracker has been activated! He's escaped!"

Lynn's lips curled into a cold smile. "Well done. Everyone, move in and support Jason. We've cornered the Holy Blood Alliance here!"

Jason sped through the abandoned truck, his heart still pounding, the gunfire and headlights of his pursuers haunting him like ghosts. The windshield was riddled with holes, and a cold wind howled past.

It scraped his cheek until it stung. The engine let out a deep roar, as if protesting that the machine was nearing its limit.

He glanced down at the dashboard and saw the fuel gauge was nearing the red line; the truck was almost out of fuel. He gritted his teeth, gripping the steering wheel tightly, while simultaneously checking the situation behind him in the rearview mirror. Two black SUVs were hot on his heels, their high-beam headlights slicing through the darkness like sharp blades.

Jason knew that if things continued this way, he might be cornered in some dead end. He had to find a way to shake off his pursuers while getting Lynn and the FBI team to his aid.

He quickly scanned his surroundings. The road ahead was lined with abandoned factory equipment and mountains of waste. It was a typical industrial wasteland with no obvious exits, but full of complex terrain and obstacles.

"This is it," Jason muttered to himself. He slammed on the gas, pushing the truck to its limit and hurtling towards an area of ​​abandoned metal frames.

The pursuers behind him were clearly caught off guard by his actions, and the SUV driver shouted, "Where is he going? Watch out for ambushes!"

But the pursuers had no choice but to grit their teeth and continue the chase.

The truck swerved sharply and crashed into the area of ​​metal frames. These tall, upright frames were covered in rust and cracks, threatening to collapse at any moment. Jason skillfully used these obstacles to create chaos, precisely controlling the steering wheel as the truck weaved between the frames, forcing the SUV behind to slow down to avoid a collision.

"Damn it!" one of the pursuers cursed as the SUV nearly crashed into a leaning metal post. The gunman in the back seat leaned out and tried to fire his rifle at the truck's tires, but Jason slammed on the brakes, kicking up a cloud of dust that obscured the pursuers' vision.

"You want to chase us?" Jason cursed under his breath, slamming the steering wheel sharply and slamming the truck's rear end into a metal frame. A loud crash followed as the frame collapsed, smashing into the SUV that was following closely behind. The driver of the first SUV reacted too late, swerving sharply, but the frame still grazed his side.

The car rolled out of control.

Another SUV behind braked suddenly, and the people inside immediately jumped out, pointing their weapons at the truck.

"Get out! You can't escape!" one of the pursuers shouted, raising his gun and aiming it at Jason's driver's seat.

But Jason had no intention of stopping. He slammed on the gas, and the truck veered at an impossible angle, plunging once more into the depths of the ruins.

Meanwhile, Lynn and Hans's team were rapidly approaching Jensen's location. Based on the tracker's signal, they had pinpointed the exact area of ​​the ruins. Hans's voice came through the communicator: "Jensen is in the abandoned industrial area. He's still moving, seemingly trying to shake off his pursuers."

Lynn replied coldly, "We'll get there. Tell everyone to avoid firing if possible; Jason's condition is unstable. He may need medical attention."

"Understood." Hans's voice carried a hint of nervousness.

Lynn's SUV screeched to a halt outside the rubble. He quickly got out, picked up his assault rifle, and whispered to his men, "Split into two groups and flank them. Keep communications open. If you find Jason, notify me immediately."

The team members nodded, dispersed, and disappeared into the night.

Deep within the ruins, Jason's truck finally came to a stop; the fuel tank was completely empty, and he could go no further. Gasping for breath, he jumped out of the cab and quickly searched for new cover. He knew the pursuers hadn't given up, and he now had to rely on his wits and combat experience to buy time.

He hid behind a pile of scrap steel, listening carefully to the sounds around him. Sure enough, he heard the engine of an SUV and the footsteps of pursuers not far away.

"He's around here! Search him!" a rough voice shouted.

Jason took a deep breath and touched the only weapon in his pocket—the rusty screwdriver he'd brought from the abandoned factory. A bitter smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. It wasn't his ideal weapon, but he had to make do for now.

The footsteps grew closer. He gripped the screwdriver tightly, concealing himself in the shadow of the steel. As one pursuer slowly drew near, he lunged forward, stabbing the man's wrist with the screwdriver. The man cried out in pain, dropping his gun. Without hesitation, Jason swiftly pulled him down, slamming his knee into his chest and punching him in the temple.

The other person immediately fainted.

Jason picked up the man's gun and quickly retreated into the shadows. He knew he couldn't confront these pursuers head-on, but he also knew he could use the terrain and the fear surrounding them to take them down one by one.

Just as the next pursuer approached, his gun was already pointed at the man's leg—a muffled thud.

The pursuers screamed and fell to the ground.

"Damn it, he's still alive!" the pursuers shouted from afar, their voices filled with obvious panic.

But just as they were about to surround Jensen, a low volley of gunfire came from the other side of the ruins. The pursuers paused, and then saw several FBI agents rush out of the darkness, quickly taking up high ground and cover.

"Drop your weapons!" Lynn's voice was as cold as the winter wind. He appeared at the edge of the ruins, his assault rifle aimed at the driver of the last SUV. "You have no chance."

The pursuers hesitated for a second, but just as they prepared to retaliate, FBI agents had already accurately struck their weapons. The chaotic battle ended in less than three minutes, with all the Blood Alliance pursuers subdued.

Jason emerged from behind the steel, his face weary, but his eyes still held a stubborn glint. He looked at Lynn, a smile playing on his lips: "You've finally arrived."

Lynn walked up to him, her eyes filled with complex emotions. "We almost thought you wouldn't make it."

Jason shrugged and handed the stolen gun to Lynn. "I don't want to be the kind of person who has to wait to be rescued."

Lynn nodded, his stern expression relaxing slightly. "Well done, Jason. But next time, don't risk your life."

Jason forced a laugh. "This is not something I can control."

Lynn patted him on the shoulder, then turned to Hans. "Take these men back to headquarters and interrogate them. Tonight's over, but we're still far from the finish line."

.

After get off work, Lynn drove back to the alleyways of Brooklyn, the familiar streetscape unchanged. Exhausted, he opened the car door and stepped into his home, where warm lights were already on. Light footsteps came from the kitchen, and then his sister Gwen peeked out, her smile as bright as the morning sun.

"Brother, you're back!" Gwen, her hands still covered in flour, stood at the door glaring at him. "Why are you so late? Dad's been waiting anxiously. We were supposed to go out for dinner together tonight."

Lynn rubbed his temples and hung his coat on the rack behind the door. "I had a lot going on today. I just got back from headquarters."

Just then, George Stacy's voice came from the living room. He was sitting on the sofa wiping his old pocket watch, his tone tinged with reproach, "Lynn, you can't always be so busy with work. Your family is counting on you. It's a rare occasion for the family to get together tonight, so let's not talk about cases anymore."

"I understand, Dad." Lynn sighed, walked over and patted George on the shoulder. "I'm just having some trouble letting go of what's been going on lately."

George looked up at his adopted son, his eyes filled with complex emotions, but then he smiled with relief. "You're an excellent agent, I've always known that. But sometimes, you need to give yourself some breathing room. Tonight, just remember one thing—eat well and don't think about the case."

"I'll listen to you." Lynn smiled, feeling a little relieved.

"Alright!" Gwen clapped her hands, interrupting their conversation. "Go change, we're leaving! Don't make the restaurant wait like last time!"

Lynn smiled helplessly, turned around and went upstairs to change into a slightly more casual outfit.

A cool evening breeze blew as Lynn walked down the street with George and Gwen. Gwen chatted excitedly with George about school, occasionally turning to Lynn to ask him questions, to which Lynn mostly responded with nods or brief replies. His gaze involuntarily swept over their surroundings; his professional instincts kept him alert, even in such a relaxed setting.