Interdimensional Scientist, Starting from Cyberpunk

A few days later.

"Yes, you just need to admit you're CIA and state your mission objective."

"And Frank…?"

"Everyone has to compromise. He'll keep these things to himself. As for you, you're just an agent who executed the mission incorrectly. The CIA does make mistakes sometimes."

At the building entrance, the one-eyed Rollins furrowed his brows after hearing all this. "What about my political career?"

"Hey, Rollins." The fat, big-eared congressman patted him on the shoulder. "It's already over—completely over, got it? But at least you're not going to prison. Maybe you can even make a comeback. Cheer up, after all this mess, you're still walking around free. Isn't that good enough?"

Rollins stood there in a daze as he was escorted inside by security.

Not far away, Frank sat in his wheelchair, staring daggers at him.

"…Are you sure you want me to do this? My family and I—"

Behind him, Leo adjusted his clothes.

"Relax. Why would we silence you? Cover-ups exist to take secrets to the grave. But once a secret is made public, eliminating you has no value—it would only increase the weight of the truth."

Frank looked at Leo. "It's that simple?"

"Of course not. But at this point, do you really want to go back to being their dog?"

Leo waved at the governor in the distance and continued, "Don't you think your skills would be better used to protect your family?

Or are you planning to surrender and retire? If that's your choice, I won't stop you."

Frank chuckled at that. "You really win either way, huh?"

Leo just shrugged, though he didn't believe he truly won on both sides.

If Frank chose to back down, he would definitely lose—at least a little.

One by one, all involved parties entered the hearing.

Everyone thought a temporary truce had been reached and that they had gotten what they wanted.

Everyone assumed things would unfold according to their plans.

Everything would be handled one step at a time.

A special hearing was held in Washington.

Inside a massive circular conference hall, the large screen played footage of the speech in front of New York's Osborn Tower.

No one in the room had any doubts—until the marked gangster van appeared.

The blatant display of criminal activity reminded some older members of the economic collapses of the past century, when gangs could control entire cities.

But things were different now. The gangs were just enforcers.

No gang could possibly possess such terrifying cybernetic enhancement technology. If they did, wouldn't it make more sense for them to enter the financial market and play the game of capital instead?

At this point in the video, the footage was still clear. Through ctOS, it was possible to track where these vehicles had come from.

As the Commissioner of the NYPD, George Stacy was, of course, present at the hearing—

This was a hearing, nominally for the members of Congress, but in reality, it was meant for the entire public.

From this attack onward, too many inexplicable events had taken place. This hearing would, in effect, be broadcasted to the whole world.

George began presenting his report on the gangs involved and the corresponding law enforcement actions.

". . . The NYPD has already raided the hideouts where these criminals emerged, but these organized criminals were clearly highly trained. We've been unable to find additional witnesses or leads."

A congressman furrowed his brow and raised his hand. "Are you saying that a group of gangsters operated in such a disciplined manner, leaving no clues for the police?"

"Yes." George remained expressionless as he nodded. "They were professionals. Given the individuals involved in this case, I don't find that surprising at all."

And why was that?

Because MindSafe Security had captured a CIA agent.

MindSafe Security was the "legitimized" name for the Heart Demon Gang.

Martin rose from his seat and gave a slight nod before glancing toward the defendant's bench, where CyberTech's CEO, Harlan Reich, and former CIA agent William Rollins sat.

Two sleazy-looking men in suits—Harlan had his head bowed, visibly terrified, while Rollins maintained his cold demeanor.

But if one looked closely, the anxiety in his eyes was unmistakable.

This was a hearing that was never meant to happen, with too many people who should never have been called to testify.

The opposition party had gone insane.

Then again, weren't their own past actions seen as madness by the other side?

At least Rollins knew he would walk out of this alive. Even if his political career took a hit, at the very least, he wouldn't be purged.

Another congressman spoke up. "There are reports suggesting you believe this man is a CIA agent? But the CIA's database contains no such individual."

George shrugged. "You see, that's exactly why we call them professionals. But fortunately, we have other intelligence to support this claim."

A different congressman cleared his throat. "Commissioner Stacy, before you continue, I want to remind you—this hearing is critical. Every word you say must be truthful and appropriate."

George looked at the congressman. He wasn't entirely sure of the deeper political machinations at play—

The NYPD's dealings with city hall were one thing, but dealing with Congress was another, separated by an immense gap.

So, he simply followed Leo's advice: tell the full truth.

But just as he was about to elaborate, Rollins spoke up.

". . . Yes, I am a CIA agent. I hired CyberTech to eliminate traitors."

"We collaborated with multiple intelligence agencies and uncovered illegal activities conducted overseas by Captain Caster. He was also involved in gang activities in New York."

"On the day of Governor Newsom's speech, he attempted to hire gangsters to assassinate the governor, acting under orders from foreign forces."

The hearing erupted in an uproar.

The story sounded utterly ridiculous, yet it fit exactly with what people expected from intelligence agencies—after all, isn't that exactly how covert operations worked?

Of course, not everyone was convinced.

A congressman frowned and questioned, "Are you saying that Captain Caster took orders from foreign forces to carry out an assassination? Forgive me, but this is simply too—"

"But that is the intelligence we have."

Rollins stood firm.

According to the script given to him, this entire ordeal would ultimately be blamed on him as a mission failure.

Frank would argue against him, then he would 'suddenly' realize his mistake. The case would then conclude in a muddled manner as evidence and testimonies were compared.

In the end, the assassination attempt on the governor would be attributed to foreign interference—

And speaking of which, what reason did the governor and the opposition party have to assume this was ever about them?

It wasn't.

Politics wasn't about truth. It was about interests. And the exchange of interests had already been completed. Now, they were just putting on a show.

A show for the public.

Rollins glanced at Frank. Now it was his turn.

The congressmen also turned to Frank. Another representative, responsible for questioning, spoke up. "This matter seems to involve classified intelligence, but given the scale of its impact, I believe the American public deserves to know the truth."

"So, Captain Caster, in response to Colonel Rollins' accusations, what do you have to say?"

Frank sat in his wheelchair, visibly in poor condition.

That day, he had fought his way through a storm of gunfire, taking multiple bullets to the chest, spine, and back. While his injuries weren't fatal, the long-term consequences were severe.

His fury was evident. He wore a military uniform adorned with numerous medals.

Without saying a word, Frank removed his medals one by one.

The room broke into murmurs at his actions.

A fat, big-eared congressman suddenly spoke. "Captain Caster, you are an American soldier. The nation thanks you for your service. But remember your duty."

"Now, tell us the truth. We do not wrong the innocent, nor do we spare the guilty. Just be honest."

Frank lifted his head, his cold eyes locking onto the congressman, sending a visible shiver down his spine.

Frank grabbed four Purple Heart medals. "These are Purple Hearts. I earned these four by being shot seven times and nearly suffocating in an overturned, bombed-out vehicle."

Next, he held up three gold stars with blue, white, and red ribbons. "These are Silver Stars. To earn them, I killed over a hundred heavily armed soldiers on the battlefield."

". . . This is the Navy Cross. I fought for over thirty consecutive days, moving between water and land, and nearly drowned afterward."

"And this is the Medal of Honor. Without any fire support, I personally rescued forty-six captured comrades and four pilots."

"All of these decorations can be verified. If you've followed the news, you might have even seen me shaking hands with the president—not the current one, though."

The room fell silent, except for the faint sound of pages being turned.

Just as the fat congressman had said—Frank was a soldier.

And not just any soldier—he was a decorated war hero. That status alone commanded respect, and no one dared to dismiss it in this setting.

"My entire life has been dedicated to serving the U.S. military. I have questioned my actions, but in the end, I chose to obey orders—because I am a soldier."

Frank placed all his medals down and pointed at Rollins. "And my last mission was in Afghanistan, where I was ordered to abduct civilians. Under his orders, I even killed a local police officer. He was only 26 years old. A civilian."

The room went dead silent. Even the sound of page-turning ceased.

Frank had spoken quickly and directly—

But his words were no less than a nuclear bomb.

Rollins' face turned ashen.

This lunatic!

Yes, he had ordered the killings of local police and civilians—but Frank had participated in those actions, too!

And this wasn't what they had agreed on!

For a moment, the entire room was frozen in stunned silence—then, chaos erupted!

The broadcast director's face went pale, but he quickly received instructions:

Keep airing it.

What else could he do?

He was just running the broadcast.

Meanwhile, in offices elsewhere, the people who should have been giving him direct orders were screaming into their phones—Shut it down!!!

Inside Blume Corporation, Skye was red-faced, struggling to keep up with the global media frenzy—

This bombshell of a story was practically crashing the internet!

She was hacking into networks worldwide, systematically redistributing the data.

Of course, she wasn't doing it alone.

Leo sat in his seat, emotionlessly sweeping through cyberspace, ensuring that the footage spread unimpeded.

He sensed another digital entity that might have been able to challenge him—

But that entity was merely watching.

Leo turned slightly and saw a familiar face in the audience.

Tony Stark.

Leo smirked and turned back toward the congressmen, officials, and military officers—all of whom were now staring at him.

So, what will you do now?

Leo crossed his legs and leaned back.