The Interrogation
FBI Metropolis Office.
In the cramped room, sunlight filtered through the window, leaving small patches of light on the black floor. The blending of light and shadow cast a gray pall over the entire space.
Footsteps approached from outside.
The door opened, and a middle-aged man, at least six feet three, with a heavy beard, walked in. The man wore an exquisite suit with a gold-trimmed pen clipped to his pocket, but beneath the impeccable attire was a fierce face.
This was Elijah Field, a retired sergeant and high-level FBI agent in charge of interrogations.
After entering, Elijah habitually turned off the camera. He approached the prisoner, his mouth spreading into a grin that revealed yellowed teeth. His menacing gaze swept over the prisoner's body.
"We meet again, little Charlie. Did you miss me?"
Charlie raised his bruised face, spat a mouthful of bloody foam, and burst into harsh laughter.
"You know what, fat pig? I just had a dream. I was screwing your wife in it. I have to say, your wife is damn good."
BANG!
A sharp pain shot through his abdomen. Charlie winced, his voice spiteful.
"Dead fat pig, is that all you've got? No wonder your wife cheats on you with tramps. You're an incompetent piece of trash."
BANG!
Another punch landed on his stomach, making him gasp in pain.
Just then, a young female agent walked in. Seeing the scene inside, she frowned slightly.
"Field, we are the FBI."
Elijah straightened his suit and casually replied,
"Of course I know the FBI can't mistreat prisoners. That's why I turned off the camera."
The female agent shook her head helplessly. She disagreed with his methods but said nothing. Her superior had given stern instructions before she arrived: Stick to your professional duties; do not interfere with anything else.
She didn't want to follow that command, but she had no choice. This was her first case since joining the FBI, and she had to execute it perfectly.
The camera in the room was turned back on. The female agent sat down and began the interrogation.
"Mr. Wills, do you have anything else to explain regarding the smuggling of narcotics?"
Charlie said coldly, "I want to see my lawyer."
The female agent closed the file and said with a serious expression,
"You've already seen your lawyer. You know the outcome. With all due respect, attempting to clear your name with a lawyer is impossible when we have solid human and material evidence. After all, that was 35 pounds of heroin."
"Your only chance is to cooperate with us and reveal the source of the drugs. We will then reduce your sentence based on the value of the information."
As the female agent spoke, she looked straight ahead without flinching, as if genuinely considering the prisoner's welfare.
Charlie laughed sarcastically, examining her from head to toe. Just as he was about to mock this naive rookie who knew nothing, a familiar feeling arose from the depths of his memory.
"I feel like I've seen you somewhere. What's your name?"
The female agent, dressed in a black suit, paused for a few seconds before replying, "Clarice Starling, from Coast City. I attended Briarwood High School in my high school years."
"So it's you."
Charlie realized. "I knew you looked familiar. You're the debater from Briarwood High."
Charlie leaned forward, his demeanor becoming more intense.
"Since you live in North Coast City, you must have heard of 'Young Master Shaw's Rules.'"
The five words seemed to possess a terrifying magic. The female agent's eyebrows furrowed, and her light blue eyes flashed with unconcealed apprehension. Everyone who lived in North Coast City knew of Young Master Shaw. Though many didn't know his real name, they knew his rules by heart, because those who broke them had simply vanished.
Elijah Field pounded the table and loudly reprimanded,
"This is Metropolis, not Coast City! Your so-called rules are useless here! And as for your so-called Young Master, he's been missing for over a month. Even if he's found, he'll be a corpse!"
"You're counting on a corpse to save you?"
Elijah stood up and walked to Charlie, placing his right hand on his shoulder. He drove his fingertips in hard, embedding them deep into the bone joints.
"Tell me, where is Melissa?"
A low voice echoed in Charlie's ear, accompanied by a sharp, piercing pain. That damned fat pig is using dirty tricks. Charlie gritted his teeth, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his cheeks twitched.
Clarice couldn't stand it. She couldn't tolerate anyone using private torture in front of her.
"Mr. Field, we are in the middle of an interrogation."
Elijah gave the female agent a cold glance, released his fingers, and returned to his seat.
Clarice took a deep breath and continued,
"Charlie Wills, I hope you cooperate with the FBI's investigation as much as possible. Even if you were framed, we need to find the person who framed you."
"As the acting President of ShowMe, you know better than we do what will happen once the news of your drug smuggling leaks."
Charlie ignored her. His shoulder ached fiercely, and he couldn't reach it with his arm. He kept trying to move it, but the more he moved, the deeper the pain felt, as if a steel needle were drilling into his bone.
Just you wait, dead fat pig. One day, I'll boil you down into lard.
"Mr. Wills..."
Charlie waved his hand irritably. "Rookie, don't talk when you don't know anything."
His eyes passed the young agent and stopped on Elijah.
"Dead fat pig, you've always wanted to know the whereabouts of Luke and that alien girl, haven't you? Fine, I'll tell you."
"Before Luke left, he told me he'd be back in a month. It's been 32 days since he left. That means he's already home."
"You're finished, fat pig. Your whole family is finished. You're going to die a very, very horrible death."
Charlie roared with laughter, his unrestrained cackle echoing maniacally.
BANG!
Elijah kicked his chair away, like an enraged beast.
Just then, the door was kicked open. Two FBI agents rushed in and pulled Elijah aside. They whispered something to him, and the latter's face turned extremely ugly, laced with a hint of fear.
He shot Charlie one final, deeply unwilling glare and left with the two agents, his steps so fast it looked like he was fleeing.
Not long after, Clarice received orders to release Charlie!
She didn't understand why her superior would issue such an order, but her investigator's intuition told her that the situation was about to become very complicated.
Soon, the shackles on Charlie were unlocked.
Before leaving, Charlie turned back.
"Since we used to live in the same neighborhood, let me give you a warning: forget everything that happened today, and never speak of it. The Young Master is not a forgiving man."
Clarice looked thoughtful. After a moment of silence, she followed an agent to the temporary manager, Mike Gray's office.
Peering through the window, the first thing she saw was a boy sitting on the sofa. He looked seventeen or eighteen, his slightly tender face bearing a cold indifference that belied his age. His eyes were slightly narrowed, and the casual flash of cold light made one shiver involuntarily.
Luke Shaw!
The grandson of the former leader of the Hongmen Association, Changlin Shaw. The Young Master whom everyone in Coast City's Chinatown knew. He was truly back.
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