Jimmy shared with Chris the psychological changes he experienced while reviewing case files, wondering if he was too inadequate or lacked mental resilience.

Chris wasn't surprised. Jimmy was still young, and his thoughts were natural, knowing that the cases listed in the FBI files were not mere public order cases but criminal ones, predominantly serious crimes. It wasn't just Jimmy; others weren't much better off.

Under Chris's subtle guidance, Jimmy started living a laid-back, emergency lifestyle. There were no new cases, and he didn't want to handle existing ones just yet, even if it meant dealing with them later. Unfortunately, since he couldn't casually stroll outside, he still had to stay inside the office building during his leisure time.

After work, Jimmy bought a Walkman, which allowed him to wear earplugs in the office while reading other materials and shaking his head. He opted not to buy a portable CD player because of the size issue. The Walkman was smaller, fitting conveniently on his left waist belt since the right side had a holster; there was no better place. The headphones went around his back to his shoulder and were not too noticeable under his suit. The disk of the CD player was just too large and inconvenient.

FBI agents have their professions, and offices have their politics. As long as their boss isn't looking, many issues are easily resolved. If it weren't for sharing an office with Chris, Jimmy even thought about setting up a turntable and sound system directly in the office to liven up the place. The two of them alone in an office of over thirty square meters felt somewhat wasteful.

Jimmy's idea wasn't unique. Many offices housed various personal items, and even a mini-golf course had been spotted in one. Relatively speaking, this place was quite free as long as it didn't disturb others.

As Jimmy pondered how to decorate his office space, Chris received a phone call, then hurried him to grab his jacket and leave.

"What happened?" Jimmy asked as he ran toward the elevator.

"One of our people was attacked," Chris said briefly, then fell silent. When they arrived at the underground parking lot, Jimmy asked Chris to wait while he took a bullet-proof vest and an equipment bag from the trunk of his car, deciding to carpool that day.

Chris frowned during the drive, only mentioning, "An old friend's family had an incident," and did not elaborate to Jimmy. From Chris's expression, Jimmy guessed that the matter was likely personal and not officially related to the office.

Chris drove toward Jersey City, which due to its proximity to New York, attracted many who worked in New York and sought cheaper living or more space, thus making Jersey City quite developed. It was almost considered New York's sixth borough by many.

Chris parked in a neighborhood where both sides of the street were lined with houses. A three-story house with white walls was cordoned off by Jersey City Police, with some people gathered around.

After parking, Chris walked over immediately, and Jimmy followed, showing their FBI badges only when they reached the front of the house—a gray-haired old man sat on the ground with his head in his hands, his body occasionally jerking.

Chris sat next to him and asked, "Vince, what exactly happened?"

The old man, Vince, lifted his head upon hearing Chris's voice and cried out, "Big C, they're all gone, all dead. My family…"

Chris embraced his shoulder, whispering words of comfort in his ear. Jimmy, observing the situation, didn't intrude. He walked over to a nearby police officer, flashed his badge, and asked what exactly had happened.

The policeman, seeing Vince's reaction to their arrival, pulled Jimmy aside to a quieter spot and briefly discussed the case details.

Vince had returned from out of town that morning to find his daughter lying in the hallway between the bedroom and living room, and his wife dead in bed; the house was thoroughly ransacked. His screams were so loud that, because it was daytime, the neighbors in the adjacent house came over to check on him, and then they called the police.

The police had been collecting evidence inside the house since their arrival, and Vince had been sitting outside, weeping until Chris arrived.

Jimmy glanced back at Vince, deducing that he had called Chris before the police arrived. With evidence collection still ongoing, they were unable to enter the house, deciding to wait until Chris and Vince stabilized emotionally.

Additionally, there was an issue---this was Jersey City under New Jersey, whereas Chris and Jimmy were with New York City's FBI in New York State. Despite being part of the broader Metropolitan New York area, it was across state lines, limiting their jurisdiction.

Standing aside, Jimmy waited. After a while, Vince seemed somewhat calmer, not crying as painfully as before. Jimmy walked up to Chris, bent down, and whispered in his ear, "Should we contact Hughes?"

Chris shook his head, waved his hand for Jimmy to stay aside. Okay, Jimmy returned to his earlier spot, continuing to wait. At this moment, he felt utterly confused and didn't even know who Vince was, but he was clearly a close friend of Chris's.

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