S.H.I.E.L.D. had evidence?
Perfect.
Locke needed evidence too.
After a brief stun, George naturally understood the meaning behind Locke's words. It was clear: Locke's conscience was clear, and he intended to go head-to-head with the FBI.
Good. Not afraid of power!
George nodded inwardly. He didn't try to dissuade Locke, but instead turned a stern gaze toward Nick Fury. "The NYPD will be monitoring this situation every step of the way," he said solemnly.
With that, George gave a nod to the officers guarding Melinda May.
A moment later, Locke voluntarily departed with Nick Fury's team.
By then, Gwen had arrived at the scene, driving the R8.
"Dad!"
"Gwen."
The moment she stepped out of the car, Gwen looked at George through the police line, her expression tense. "Where's Locke?"
George hurried over and pulled her to the side.
...
New York Federal Building.
Interrogation Room.
This time, Locke wasn't handcuffed. He sat in the interrogation chair with his arms crossed, eyes closed as if resting.
"Locke Broughton. Born August 8, 1988, at Galveston Municipal Hospital, Texas..."
"Have we found his biological parents?"
"No. The Texas Child Protective Services refused to hand over the records. Unless Locke Broughton requests them personally, they are withholding them based on privacy protection protocols."
"What about the money? Where does it come from?"
"An offshore foundation called Broughton."
Coulson flipped through the files on Locke, shaking his head. "However, we haven't been able to find any detailed information on this offshore foundation. It was established a year ago—exactly one year after the Peerless Assassin became active."
Through the observation glass, Nick Fury's single eye flickered with a calculating light. "Heh, what a coincidence. Any word from Langley? Did they find anything regarding the name Broughton?"
"Yes."
"What?"
"Lorraine."
"Hmm?"
Fury turned to look at Phil Coulson, frowning. "I want the file."
Coulson shook his head. "Councilman Pierce said that the only lead related to Broughton is this: Lorraine Broughton. But Langley stated it's impossible to give us the specific details."
Nick Fury: "..."
Locke Broughton?
Lorraine Broughton?
"Heh."
"However..." Coulson continued, "Langley stated that this Lorraine Broughton cannot possibly be the Peerless Assassin we're looking for. Lorraine Broughton is female, not male."
In the limited surveillance footage of the Peerless Assassin, there was no doubt the subject was a man. It was set in stone.
Fury's pupil contracted slightly. "Investigate. We can't find anything on the Assassin, so find out everything about this Lorraine Broughton."
What else could Coulson do but nod?
Fury gave a grunt of affirmation and headed toward the door.
...
After a while, Locke, who had been resting his eyes in the interrogation room, heard the door push open. He watched Nick Fury walk in and spoke up: "Actually, back at the precinct when I first saw you, I wanted to ask—is the FBI's recruitment so lax these days? Can people with physical disabilities just join up now?"
Since the war had started, there was no need to keep up appearances.
Nick Fury smiled, showing no trace of anger. He pulled out a chair, sat down, and opened a laptop containing a specific piece of surveillance footage.
The footage on the laptop was a composite of stitched-together angles.
From Locke leaving the classroom to the stairwell.
From Morgan leaving the classroom to eavesdropping at the doorway.
And during that time...
The restored, though somewhat low-resolution, footage of Locke's phone conversation in the stairwell.
Impressive. They actually managed to restore that.
Locke raised an eyebrow.
Fury looked at him. "What? Didn't expect us to be able to fix this footage?"
Locke looked up at Fury, crossed his arms, and let out a short laugh. "And? What are you trying to say?"
"We also have lip-reading experts."
"Impressive!"
"We've already decoded what you said in that frame."
"Is that so?"
Locke leaned back in the interrogation chair, looking at Fury with genuine interest. "And then? What's your point?"
Fury closed the laptop. "Mr. Broughton, regarding the textile mill case, we now have reason to suspect you are in league with the Peerless Assassin. The Assassin is already classified as a terrorist. Do you know how serious that charge is?"
Locke's eyelids lifted slightly, and he let out a soft chuckle. "The disappearance case couldn't hold me, so now you're using terrorism charges to grab me? Only, do you dare say those words inside the NYPD?"
Nick Fury: "..."
That was nonsense.
The NYPD had already officially categorized the event: it was an NYPD raid on the textile mill that destroyed an assassin base.
If S.H.I.E.L.D. dared to claim otherwise, the many people who had been promoted because of that case would be furious. Most notably, the current Big Boss of New York, Ms. Casey, would be livid.
In fact, if S.H.I.E.L.D. dared to make that claim, they wouldn't just face trouble nationwide—in New York, they wouldn't be able to move an inch!
Fury lowered his head slightly, then looked at Locke. "Yes. But this decoded video can prove that you know this Peerless Assassin, or that you are even an accomplice."
Locke laughed. That was it?
Locke checked his wristwatch. Calculating the time, he looked up at Nick Fury. "Do you know what this looks like to me?"
Fury looked back at him.
"Harassment!"
"Impotent rage!"
"Pure delusion!"
Locke spoke bluntly, staring at Fury with a smile. "I'm sorry your FBI lost an agent. Truly. But when your agent went missing, I had a foolproof alibi."
"And yet?"
"The NYPD already cleared my name. But you people?"
"Relying on your own baseless guesses, you've decided I'm in league with this 'Evil Hunter'?"
"Where's the evidence?"
"A video of me calling a friend back home in Texas? That's your evidence?"
"In the total absence of evidence, you have repeatedly harassed me. You even took me away during a school dance, and then you exposed me to unnecessary risk, letting a terrorist try to blow me up with a rocket launcher?"
"I cooperated with your work, and this is how you handle things."
"Fine!"
"Then let's play. I'll play with you, Senior Special Agent from the FBI!"
"..."