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

Excellent agent

"So, your agents were caught." Caleb said leisurely in his chair, leaning against his back, "Is this what you call 'control of the situation'? It's ridiculous."

Lynn did not respond, he just stared at Caleb quietly, like a raptor patiently waiting for his prey to make mistakes.

Cale raised his eyebrows, as if he wanted to break the silence, "Let me guess—their condition is to exchange me, right?"

"You're right." Lynn finally spoke, his voice uneasy, "But you know, I won't do that."

"Oh?" Caleb pretended to be surprised. "What should you do with your colleagues? Isn't your FBI motto 'Don't abandon anyone'?"

Lynn leaned slightly, approached Caleb, and whispered, "You overestimate your own value. The Holy Blood Alliance is using you as bait, but to me, you are just a chess piece, a chess piece that must be left behind. .”

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

"Maybe." Lynn stood up straight, his eyes cold, "But I know one thing--what you are afraid of is not us, but your superiors. They won't give you any chance to get out."

Caleb did not answer, but a gloomy light flashed in his eyes.

Lynn turned and walked out of the interrogation room, leaving Caleb alone facing the suppressed silence.

When Johnson woke up, there was a dead silence around him, and the air was filled with a strong smell of chemicals. The light above the head was weak, and it flashed with a harsh electric current. He blinked, feeling his hands tied to the metal chair behind him, and the rough ropes were deeply tied into his wrists, rubbing his skin so hard that it hurts. His head was still aching, probably because of the electric shock just now.

He slowly looked around. The room was not big, with some rusty tools and empty chemical reagent bottles scattered on the concrete floor. The four walls are mottled and fall off, and it is obviously an abandoned factory that has not been maintained for a long time. His head was in chaos, but after a moment the memory surged up - he was caught, Lynn must have known that he was missing, and the people of the Holy Blood Alliance were likely to use him to threaten the FBI.

"No, I can't just wait like that." Johnson murmured to himself, and began to slowly twist his body on the chair, trying to find a little room for movement. His eyes swept across the ground quickly, looking for anything to take advantage of.

Not far from the left of the chair, he saw a rusty piece of metal, perhaps a piece of debris that fell from the wall. It's not big, but the edges look sharp enough to cut the rope.

"It's it." Johnson gritted his teeth and focused his eyes on the piece of metal. He took a deep breath, tried to adjust his center of gravity, and used the hind legs of the chair to approach the metal piece bit by bit. The bottom of the chair rubbed against the ground and made a faint "squeak". He was cautious in every move, afraid of disturbing the guards outside.

Time seemed to be lengthened, and every push made his heart beat faster. Beads of sweat appeared on his forehead and his muscles were aching from the tightness. After a few minutes, he finally moved the chair close enough. He slowly lowered his head and groped with his hands tied behind him to grab the piece of metal. When his fingers touched the cold iron piece, he couldn't help but feel happy.

His palm clamped the metal piece hard and began to saw the ropes bit by bit with it. The rope is strong, but the sharp edges of the metal sheet still loosen the rope gradually. His wrist was cut with blood due to friction, but he did not stop and gritted his teeth and persisted.

Just as the rope was about to be completely cut off, footsteps came from outside. Johnson's movement paused, holding his breath, his ears pressed against the back of the chair, trying to tell the number and direction of his footsteps.

"He's still inside, right?" A low voice came from outside the door.

"Of course, I can't escape." Another voice responded, with a tone of disdain.

"The boss said, he must be alive. They want to trade this guy back to Caleb."

"It's really troublesome. If it weren't for the person above, I would have solved him long ago."

The footsteps gradually faded away, as if the two of them were just patrolling and were not ready to enter the room. Johnson breathed a sigh of relief, but his heart became even more urgent. He knew that there would not be many opportunities like this. He lowered his head and speeded up his hand, and after a few seconds the rope finally broke.

His wrists instantly regained their freedom, but were numb because they were tied up for a long time. He quickly moved his wrists and stood up from his chair. His eyes scanned around, looking for tools for the next move.

There were some worn tools piled up in the corners of the wall, including a long iron rod and a rusty screwdriver. He grabbed the screwdriver, held it tightly in his hand, and walked carefully towards the door.

He gently pressed against the door, leaning his ear against the cold iron door, trying to hear the movement outside clearly. There seemed to be no footsteps in the corridor, but he knew that it didn't mean safety.

Johnson slowly pushed open the door, only opening a crack. His eyes swept through the corridor outside, and he opened the door completely after confirming that there were no guards. The corridor was dimly lit, with some footprints and cigarette butts scattered on the ground. He held his breath and tiptoed along the wall.

Every step was like stepping on a blade, his heartbeat almost jumping out of his chest. He knew that as long as he was discovered, he might not have a second chance.

Suddenly, a low voice came from the corner ahead. He quickly retreated, hid in a storage room next to him, closed the door, leaving only a gap to observe the outside.

Two guards were coming from the end of the corridor, their pace was steady, holding weapons in their hands. They walked very slowly and seemed to be scrutinizing each room carefully.

"Are we really so careful?" one of the guards complained. "This place has been cleaned up and he can't escape."

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

Johnson's breathing became lighter and he knew it was his best chance. After the guard walked over, he quietly pushed open the door, quickly slipped out of the storage room, and ran down the corridor in the opposite direction.

He ran very lightly, but not slow. Finally, he found an exit to the outside. It was a worn iron door with a rusty lock hanging on it.

Johnson took out the screwdriver, inserted it hard into the keyhole, and began to pry. At this moment, a shout suddenly came from the corridor behind him - the guards found that he was not in the room.

"He ran away! Chase!"

Johnson's movements were even more crazy, with the tip of the screwdriver turning quickly, making a harsh metal rubbing sound. After a few seconds, the lock finally broke. He pushed open the iron door and a gust of cold wind blew into his face.

Outside is an empty abandoned site, and dim lights and vague sounds of vehicles can be seen in the distance. He rushed out without hesitation.

The guard behind him chased out, and bullets roared past, hitting the ground and abandoned mechanical equipment beside him. Johnson gritted his teeth and quickly shuttled through the field, using the abandoned vehicles and equipment as cover.

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

Johnson was about to run out of energy, but he forced himself to move forward. He knew that as long as he could hold on until the FBI arrived, he could survive. While running, he took out a small tracker from his pocket, which he had secretly found from the storage room before escaping. He turned on the tracker and threw it on a high iron rack, hoping that Lynn and Hans would receive the signal.

Suddenly, an abandoned truck appeared in front of him. He quickly climbed into the driver's seat, opened the door, and twisted the ignition switch hard. A few seconds later, the truck roared.

"Don't let him drive away!" The guard behind him opened fire frantically, bullets shattering the windshield, but Johnson had already stepped on the accelerator and the truck rushed out, bringing a piece of dust.

He drove the truck out of the abandoned site and headed towards the lights in the distance. His eyes were firm. Although there were still pursuers behind him, he knew that he had taken the initiative.

"Hold on, Lynn," he whispered, "I'll come back alive."

At the same time, Johnson's signal suddenly came from Lynn's communicator. Hans' voice was filled with surprise and nervousness: "Lynn! Johnson's tracker was activated! He successfully escaped!"

A sneer appeared on the corner of Lynn's mouth, "Good. Everyone, act-receive Johnson, we block the people of the Holy Blood Alliance in place!"

Johnson drove the abandoned truck all the way, his heart still beating violently, and the gunshots and headlights of chasing behind him lingered like ghosts. The windshield was covered in holes and the cold wind whistled past, causing his cheeks to hurt. The engine roared a low voice, as if protesting that the machine was approaching its limit.

He looked down at the dashboard and found that the oil meter was close to the red line and the truck had very little fuel left. He gritted his teeth, held the steering wheel tightly, and observed the situation behind him through the rearview mirror. Two black SUVs chased each other, and the highlights on the roof cut through the darkness like sharp blades.

Johnson knew that if he continued like this, he would likely be blocked in a dead end. He had to find a way to get rid of these pursuers, while letting Lynn and the FBI team come to pick him up.

He quickly scanned the surrounding environment. The road ahead is lined with abandoned factory equipment and mountain of scrap. It is a typical industrial ruin with no obvious exit but full of complex terrain and obstacles.

"It's here." Johnson whispered in his heart, stomping on the accelerator, raising the truck's speed to its limit, and rushing straight to an abandoned iron rack area.

The pursuer behind him obviously did not expect his movements, and the driver of the SUV shouted loudly: "Where is he going? Be careful of ambushing!"

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

The truck made a sudden turn and rushed into the iron frame area. Those high-mounted iron frames are covered with rust and cracks and may collapse at any time. Johnson skillfully used these obstacles to create chaos, he controlled the steering wheel accurately, and the truck kept shuttled between the iron frames, while the SUV behind him had to slow down to avoid collisions.

"Damn it!" One of the pursuers cursed angrily, and the front of the SUV almost hit a tilted iron pillar. The gunman in the back seat leaned out and tried to fire with his rifle at the truck's tires, but Johnson braked suddenly and a dusty raked up at the rear of the truck, blocking the pursuit's vision.

"You want to chase?" Johnson cursed in a low voice, slammed the steering wheel and smashed the rear of the truck hard into the iron frame on the side. A loud bang came, and the entire iron frame collapsed and hit the SUV that followed. The driver of the first SUV was not responding so he quickly turned the steering wheel, but was still hit on the side by the iron frame, and the body rolled out of control.

Another SUV in the rear braked urgently, and the person in the car jumped down immediately and pointed his weapon at the truck.

"Get out! You can't run!" a pursuer shouted, pointing his gun at Johnson's cab.

But Johnson had no intention of stopping. He stomped on the accelerator and the truck turned around at an impossible angle, rushing into the depths of the ruins again.

Meanwhile, Lynn and Hans' squad are approaching Johnson's position at full speed. According to the tracker's signal, they have locked the specific area of ​​the ruins. Hans' voice came from the communicator: "Johnson is abandoning the industrial area. He is still moving, seemingly trying to get rid of the pursuers."

Lynn responded coldly: "We will arrive. Notify everyone and try not to shoot. Johnson's situation is unstable. He may need medical assistance."

"I understand." Hans's voice was a little nervous.

Lynn's SUV suddenly braked and stopped outside the ruins. He quickly got out of the car, picked up the assault rifle in his hand, and whispered to the team members: "Divid in two groups and encircle them. Keep the communication open. If Johnson is found, notify me immediately. .”

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

Deep in the ruins, Johnson's truck finally stopped, the fuel tank was completely bottomed out and he could no longer move forward. He gasped, jumped out of the cab, quickly searching for a new cover point. He knew the pursuers had not given up yet, and he now had to rely on his own wisdom and combat experience to delay time.

He hid behind a pile of discarded steel and listened carefully to the sounds around him. Sure enough, the sound of the SUV engine and the footsteps of the pursuers came not far away.

"He is nearby! Search!" a rough voice shouted.

Johnson took a deep breath and touched the only weapon in his pocket - the rusty screwdriver that had been brought out from the abandoned factory. A bitter smile appeared on the corner of his mouth. This was not his most ideal weapon, but now he could only give in.

As the footsteps got closer, he clasped the screwdriver and hid in the shadow of steel. As a pursuer slowly approached, he rushed out and stabbed the opponent's wrist with a screwdriver. The man cried out in pain and his gun fell to the ground. Without hesitation, Johnson quickly pulled him down, pressed his chest hard with his knees, and punched the other person in the temple.

The other party fainted.

Johnson picked up the man's gun and hid back into the shadows quickly. He knew he could not confront these pursuers head-on, but he also knew that he could use the terrain and the fear around them to defeat them one by one.

Just as the next pursuer approached, his muzzle was already aimed at the other party's legs - a muffled sound, and the pursuer fell to the ground in pain.

"Damn it, he's still alive!" the pursuer in the distance shouted, with obvious panic in his voice.

But just as they were about to surround Johnson, a low gunshot came from the other side of the ruins. The pursuers stopped moving, and then they saw several FBI agents rushing out of the night and quickly occupying the high point and cover.

"Put down your weapons!" Lin N's voice was as cold as the wind in the cold winter. His figure appeared on the edge of the ruins, and his assault rifle aimed at the driver of the last SUV, "You guys have no chance."

The pursuers hesitated for a second, but just as they were about to fight back, FBI agents had accurately hit their weapons. A chaotic battle ended in less than three minutes, and all the pursuers of the Holy Blood Alliance were subdued.

Johnson walked out of the steel, his face was exhausted, but there was still a sense of stubbornness in his eyes. He looked at Lynn, and a smile appeared on the corner of his mouth: "You guys are finally here."

Lynn walked up to him with a complicated look on his face, "We almost thought you couldn't hold on."

Johnson shrugged and handed Lynn the snatched gun, "I don't want to be the kind of person waiting to be saved."

Lynn nodded, the coldness on his face relaxed a little, "Good job, Johnson. But next time, don't fight your life."

Johnson forced a smile, "This is not something I can control."

Lynn patted his shoulder and turned to look at Hans, "Take these guys back to headquarters and interrogate them. It's over tonight, but we're still far from the end."

After get off work, Lynn drove back to Brooklyn's alley, with the familiar street scene as always. Tired, he pushed open the car door and when he stepped into the house, there was already a warm light in the room. A brisk sound of footsteps came from the kitchen, and then my sister Gwen poked her head out, her smile as bright as morning light.

"Brother, you're back!" Gwen stood at the door with some flour on his hands, staring at him, "Why are you so late? Dad is anxious and promised to go out for dinner together tonight."

Lynn rubbed his eyebrows and hung his coat on the hanger behind the door, "I'm having a lot of things today, I just rushed back from the headquarters."

At this time, George Stacey's voice came from the living room, sitting on the sofa wiping his old-fashioned pocket watch, with a hint of blame in his tone, "Linn, you can't always be so busy with work, your family still counts on you It's your turn. It's rare for a family to gather tonight, so stop talking about any cases."

"I get it, dad." Lynn sighed and walked over and patted George on the shoulder. "I just couldn't let go of what happened recently."

George looked up at his adopted son, his eyes were complicated, but then he smiled relievedly, "You are an excellent agent, I always know this. But occasionally, you also need to give yourself some breathing time. You just need to remember tonight One thing - have a good meal and don't think about the case."

"Listen to you." Lin En smiled, feeling a little relieved.

"Okay!" Gwen clapped his hands and interrupted the conversation between the two, "Go and change clothes quickly, we're leaving! Don't let the restaurant wait for a long time like last time!"

Lin En smiled helplessly, turned to the stairs to change into a slightly casual outfit.

The evening breeze was cool, and Lynn walked along the street with George and Gwen. Gwen talked to George excitedly about school affairs, and occasionally turned around to ask Lynn some questions, and Lynn's answers were mostly nods or short sentences. His eyes swept around involuntarily, and his professional habits kept him alert, even in such a relaxed scene.