Crisis management was urgent.
As soon as the meeting ended, Luke set about organizing the relevant personnel. Unfortunately, the company completely lacked talent in this area, so the boss had to personally step up. A thousand-word-long declaration was published on the official website. The language wasn't particularly elegant, but it was highly logical.
The first half outlined the course of events. The apology and reflection were in the middle, quickly addressed in a few lines, followed by the future plan and the remedial measures being implemented to prevent such incidents from recurring.
The content was solid and seemed completely sincere at first glance, but a closer reading revealed the central theme: avoiding the core issue.
This was the essence of the whole thing.
What is crisis management?
Simply put, it's turning black into grey and erasing the grey until it's invisible. If you just kept painting it black, afraid people wouldn't know what wrong you had done, that wouldn't be crisis management; that would be a public relations crisis.
After the statement was released, many ShowMe users spontaneously shared it across various channels, implicitly forming a wave of organic support. Upon hearing this news, the entire company was abuzz, and employee morale soared.
It is a wonderful feeling when the result of your hard work is affirmed by the public.
With users providing cover, the public opinion crisis eased slightly.
Luke could finally spare time to deal with the FBI.
A Cold Confrontation
At 2:00 p.m., the FBI agents, led by Roger Consius, arrived at the ShowMe headquarters on time.
"Hello, we meet again."
"Yes, we do. It hasn't even been a week since our last meeting, and your company has run into trouble again. Last time it was metahumans; this time it's terrorists. Who knows what it will be in the future?"
Luke said with a forced smile,
"Mr. Consius certainly has a sense of humor. ShowMe is a legal company, and its employees are law-abiding citizens. We would never do anything illegal."
"The employees might be law-abiding citizens, but the boss might not be."
Roger Consius seemed to hint at something, taking a few steps closer to whisper, "No matter what your background is or what your agenda is, I will find out this time. Don't think you can get away with anything."
With that, he walked toward the conference room. Emily followed behind him, passing Luke without even glancing at him, as if the two had never met.
Women, they're all fickle!
"Boss, I think the FBI is targeting us," Charlie said worriedly.
"Not the FBI—Roger Consius is targeting us."
"We haven't done anything wrong. Why is that guy harassing us?"
"You should ask the Old Man that question."
Charlie paused. "You mean he knows about our connection to the Hongmen?"
Luke looked up at the ceiling, his eyes filled with the suffering of loving an idiot. "Do you think the FBI are all morons? How could they not have files on someone like the Old Man? It's not just him; the files of all Hongmen higher-ups and their families are registered with the FBI."
"What about me? Do they have my file too?"
Luke genuinely didn't want to answer such a stupid question.
"How are things going in Chinatown?"
"I just received a text message. The person has been settled. However, Elder Qi said that next time you need his help, you need to go in person." Charlie paused, then quietly suggested, "I think you should visit Elder Qi sometime. Metropolis is his jurisdiction; you can't keep avoiding him."
"You go if you want to."
Luke snorted, tidied his suit, and strode toward the conference room.
Cindy and the others had finished the preparations. Luke wasted no time, walking directly to the computer and projecting a photo of a young man with obvious Middle Eastern features onto the large screen.
"Ibn Abdul Sanji Rahman Shalim, the owner of the social media account 'Black Metal.' He is an Arab-American, 25 years old. He registered a ShowMe account a month ago and has since published a total of twenty-three posts, including text, pictures, and videos, mostly related to food. Oh, I forgot to mention, his job is a chef."
"Due to confidentiality agreements, I cannot disclose more information here. If you wish to know more, you can contact him personally. Of course, if you require technical assistance, I can send employees to help, free of charge."
"I've said my piece, Mr. Consius. Do you have any other requests?"
Roger Consius let out a cold, hard laugh, his face twisted with undisguised mockery.
"Is this your idea of... help? One picture! Dozens of useless pieces of information! Luke Shaw, let me remind you of something: Ibn Abdul Sanji Rahman Shalim is from the Middle East and is a member of an extreme terrorist organization involved in the murder of a woman. Do you know what your actions mean right now?"
"You are harboring him, covering for him, all to prevent your company from being implicated. I know your type too well. There's nothing you won't do for money!"
At those words, the faces of the ShowMe employees present instantly changed. In America, one thing must never be touched: terrorism. Once that label is slapped on you, you can forget about ever recovering.
Cindy immediately stood up.
"Sir, please watch your language. ShowMe will never become a tool for spreading terrorism, nor will we shield any criminal."
Roger Consius ignored her, staring only at Luke.
"If you don't want to be an accomplice, hand over the files on him, his family, and his friends. That is an order."
Luke's brow twitched. He said firmly,
"I apologize, Mr. Consius, but the company does not have the files you want. Even if we did, I would not hand them over. Ibn Abdul Sanji Rahman Shalim is only a suspect. There is no evidence to show he committed a crime. Until actual criminal activity is confirmed, he is protected by the Constitution, and you have no right to deprive him of his personal rights."
Roger sneered. "Good oratory skills. You should apply to be his defense lawyer. He certainly wouldn't object."
After being repeatedly provoked, Luke's temper flared up.
"I'm sorry, I have neither the interest nor the time for that."
"There's one more thing I need to remind you of. Ibn's first twenty-three posts were all published from Brooklyn, using the same computer. The video posted this morning, however, came from Gotham, using a different computer. Is there no suspicion in that? Don't wrongly accuse good people, and certainly don't miss the bad ones."
He paused, then mocked,
"Although you people do that often."
Pfft!
Charlie nearly burst out laughing. Rowan and Cindy also smiled secretly, thinking, The boss is truly the boss, daring to mock the FBI to their faces. Doesn't he worry about them getting angry?
Luke gestured to Charlie, who pulled out a USB drive and placed it on the table.
"The data is all inside. This is everything ShowMe can provide. If you feel it's insufficient, please present a document authorized by the White House, and we will provide appropriate assistance according to its contents."
"If there's nothing else, this meeting is adjourned. Charlie, see them out!"
Charlie stood up and opened the conference room door.
Roger gave Luke a deep, intense look, then rose to leave. At the doorway, he turned back.
"Luke Shaw, don't think you can do whatever you want. This is Metropolis, not Coast City. I will investigate this matter thoroughly. I won't wrongly accuse good people, and I won't let any bad people go, no matter what their identity or background is!"
With that threat delivered, the atmosphere immediately grew tense. Luke ground his teeth but said nothing, waving his employees back to work.
A Secret Location
After leaving ShowMe, Roger Consius drove straight to Ibn's residence in Brooklyn, but the place was empty. A neighbor informed him that Ibn had left with several unfamiliar men wearing sunglasses two hours earlier.
Upon hearing this news, Roger angrily kicked the wall, muttering unspeakable curses.
Emily opened her mouth several times, but ultimately chose silence. She had just received a text message from Luke, asking her to meet at a bar to discuss something. She had planned to mention the message, but seeing her Captain's state, she decided against it.
At 6:00 p.m., as soon as her workday ended, Emily drove to Brooklyn and stopped in front of a bar called the Red Devil.
Since it wasn't late yet, the bar was relatively empty. Emily immediately spotted the young man by the bar counter.
Today, Luke was dressed differently than before. He wasn't in a suit, opting for casual wear: white sneakers, dark casual trousers, and a purple shirt. A silver Vacheron Constantin watch was on his left wrist, and a gold Bulgari bracelet was on his right. His entire outfit made him look handsome, fashionable, and luxurious, contrasting sharply with the run-down bar.
Seeing Emily, Luke smiled and walked over.
"Sweetheart, thank you for not making me drink alone for two hours here."
"Don't call me sweetheart. Your sweetheart is Ivanka Trump, not me."
As soon as she said that, Emily immediately regretted it. She glared at him irritably, found an empty chair, sat down, and snapped,
"What do you want to talk about?"
"I have a business matter and a personal matter. Which first?"
"Business!"
Luke sighed in disappointment, took a photo from his pocket, and placed it on the table.
"Ibn Abdul Sanji Rahman Shalim, you haven't forgotten him, have you?"
Emily gasped, horrified. "You..."
Luke said calmly, "That's right. I had someone take him."
Emily immediately stood up, angrily hissing,
"What exactly are you trying to do? Do you know that's illegal?"
"I had to do this."
Luke looked her directly in the eye and said, word for word, "I don't trust Roger Consius. You know better than I what kind of person he is. If he gets Ibn, who knows what terrible things he might do. Of the entire FBI, I only trust you, and only you can find the truth."
Emily's expression was incredibly complex. For a moment, she didn't know what to say. Something deep inside was swinging back and forth. After a while, she calmed down, sighed with resignation, and asked,
"Where is he?"
"Come with me."
The two left the bar through the back door and navigated dark, damp streets until they reached a dilapidated building.
"When we get inside, don't say anything. Just do as I say."
Pushing open the heavy iron door of the basement, the two entered a dimly lit room.
Ibn Abdul Sanji Rahman Shalim was there, anxiously waiting.
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