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In the dimly lit interrogation room, the atmosphere remained eerily quiet, which was actually a form of psychological warfare. In an extremely quiet environment, people tended to create sounds to relax themselves, making it easier to divulge their inner secrets.

Seated in the interrogation chair was a doctor wearing a white coat. His hands were restrained on the armrests of the chair. He tilted his head back, gazing at the overhead light bulb. It was a very simple incandescent bulb, constantly blinking with alternating brightness, casting flickering light that intensified the oppressive atmosphere of the room.

"Do you know? I once suggested to someone that they should replace the unresponsive light bulb in their office. But he told me that it's actually a form of psychological warfare. Unstable light can stimulate the psyche of the interrogated, making them more anxious," the voice of Schiller echoed in the room.

Sitting on the opposite side of the railing, Marc looked up at him and asked, "The person you're talking about must be a professional agent. Who is he? Where is he from? Is he your colleague?"

"Why do you think he's a professional agent?" Schiller countered.

"Answer my question," Marc wasn't fooled. He simply repeated the same question over and over again, regardless of what Schiller asked him.

"It seems you're also a professional agent," Schiller tilted his head slightly, still not returning to a normal posture. He rested his head against the back of the chair and continued staring at the light bulb. "But the person I mentioned didn't refuse to change the light bulb because of that nonsense reason. He simply didn't want to spend the money."

The exchange between Schiller and Marc wasn't going smoothly. They both seemed to exhibit two contrasting qualities of humanity: one was a parrot, and the other was the kind who answered questions with unrelated information.

Marc incessantly repeated one question, using agent tactics and interrogation techniques to pry information from Schiller. However, Schiller only shared what he wanted to and asked what he wanted to know. The two of them engaged in a disjointed conversation for a while, until Marc finally stood up from behind the desk.

He opened the door of the room's railing and approached Schiller. When he stood in front of Schiller, his shadow fell over him, obscuring his gaze. From this angle, Marc had a very handsome face and a tall stature, coupled with the serious expression common among agents.

This posture exuded a strong sense of oppression, but Schiller continued to gaze at the light bulb. He said, "It seems you've realized that the wording from the first chapter of the agent handbook doesn't work on me, so you've moved on to the techniques taught in the second chapter by Professor X."

"Do you need me to review it for you? Stand up in front of the interrogated, use your physical presence and posture to establish a sense of dominance, employ actions that hint at violence, making the subject feel like they're in a potentially dangerous environment..."

"If you're more skilled, when you notice the interrogated is starting to feel a lack of security, you'll ease off this stance, let them relax a bit, then abruptly tighten their mental state again. After a few rounds of this, they'll start talking..."

Marc, standing before Schiller, visibly froze in his movements. According to his posture, he seemed about to twist his wrist or crack his knuckles, actions that should have implied violence, but now, if he continued these actions, it looked less like a veiled threat and more like a novice's practice...

However, without a doubt, Marc had ample agent experience. He didn't lose his composure. He took a step back, leaned against the railing, and then turned slightly. He reached behind and picked up a set of documents from the table. He said:

"We've received a tip. Intelligence indicates that you've been involved in espionage within the state of New York..."

"Intelligence indicates what country's spy I am?" Schiller asked.

Marc's hand flipping through the documents paused for a moment. From the moment Schiller walked into the room, every word he said was unexpected to Marc. In essence, he wasn't following the script.

In Marc's career as an agent, he had encountered many tough opponents, but most of them weren't like this.

Some people turned mute the moment they entered the interrogation room. No matter the methods used, they couldn't be made to utter a word. Others would use various tactics to prove their innocence, even outwitting Marc and other interrogation experts, leading them into logical dead ends.

Undoubtedly, these individuals all shared a common trait: they were highly aggressive, attacking every weakness of the interrogator, using every means to escape.

However, Schiller gave Marc the impression that he didn't really want to escape. He seemed to want to stay a while longer, or maybe it wasn't just a while. Judging by his demeanor, it seemed like he intended to settle in here.

"You must realize the consequences that your dangerous actions might bring," Marc continued to stare at Schiller with a stern expression.

"Any consequences? The Central Intelligence Agency doesn't have law enforcement authority, only the investigative authority that's been neutered countless times. You brought me here openly because the person who reported me provided extremely detailed information."

"I believe this is the most enjoyable game you've played in the past decade. You could even burst into my sanatorium, point a gun at me, and threaten me to come with you. But under normal circumstances, you could only skulk around the target, not only watching out for them but also for the Federal Bureau of Investigation..."

Schiller straightened his body, still relaxed against the chair's backrest. He said, "Perhaps you think this is a simple game. My intelligence has grown to the point where you might feel I'm far less dangerous than those you've encountered before, because they wouldn't leave behind so many flaws and information for their opponents..."

"But the truth is, even with all this intelligence at your disposal, you still can't touch me. You can only bring me to court."

"Now, your goal in getting more information from me is simply to gain an advantage during the trial. Otherwise, I might just walk out of the courtroom unscathed, and outside the courtroom, I'll show you a mocking smile and a raised middle finger, just like those opponents you've encountered before."

"Enough." Marc's voice lowered. Schiller chuckled and said, "It seems today's interrogation can end here. You can go back and mend your shattered spirit. We'll see each other again tomorrow."

Marc tossed the documents back onto the table. He walked up to Schiller once again and swung his fist at him, but Schiller dodged it by leaning his body to the side...

Marc retracted his fist without further attack. He said, "Your earlier move already exposed that you're a well-trained agent. Normal people can't dodge like that."

"Your earlier move also exposed that you must be a well-trained boxer. Agent combat skills don't usually teach professional boxing techniques..."

Marc took a deep breath, his chest heaving. After a moment of pause, he shook his head. Schiller said, "Does anger make your mental state unstable? How long has this been going on? Have you seen a doctor about it?"

After Marc gradually calmed down, he gave Schiller a deep look, then turned and left the interrogation room.

After a while, the door to the interrogation room opened again. Marc, standing by the door, was talking to an interrogation expert, occasionally pointing a finger at Schiller.

Schiller sat up straight, stretched his neck, and shouted, "Are you going to call your parents? I promise not to tell anyone about your crying fit just now, in case you don't want to come to kindergarten tomorrow!"

Schiller could see that Marc's fists had clenched.

But Schiller waited for a while and didn't witness Marc's outburst. He shook his head, seemingly disappointed.

As Marc turned to leave, Schiller suddenly fell silent. Just as Marc was about to turn his head for one last look, Schiller spoke up, saying, "Alright, I'm Hydra."

Marc turned his head to look at Schiller, and Schiller looked at Marc. Then, without looking back, Marc walked away.

Schiller shouted loudly, "Can't you hear me?! I said I'm Hydra! The kind of Hydra Captain America fought against! The Hydra that almost destroyed the world in World War II!"

"Wait! Come back! Alright, I'm KGB! KGB! Pretending to be Hydra, the KGB, is that enough?!"

In a moment, Marc entered the interrogation room again with a team of interrogation experts. Schiller sat in the chair and let out a deep sigh.

Marc picked up the documents from the table again. The interrogation personnel walked up to Schiller and placed a table in front of him. They then attached various physiological monitoring devices to him, commonly known as lie detectors.

"How's the weather today?" Marc asked.

"Not bad," Schiller replied.

Schiller's peripheral vision caught a group of technicians staring at the physiological monitoring device. Marc asked a few unrelated questions, confirming the lie detector was functioning properly, before getting to the main point.

"What's your real name?"

"Schiller Rodriguez."

"You're not Russian?"

"No."

"Are you a KGB spy infiltrated within Hydra?"

"Yes."

Marc glanced up at the technician behind the instrument, who subtly shook their head, indicating the readings were fine. Although lie detector data wasn't necessarily completely accurate and couldn't be treated as evidence, it could largely indicate emotional changes in a person at that moment.

Schiller hadn't used any special abilities to control his physiological state because he was speaking the truth, albeit a convoluted one.

"You're a KGB spy infiltrated within Hydra, then sent by Hydra to work within S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Yes."

"Within S.H.I.E.L.D., how many allies do you have?"

Faced with this question, Schiller fell silent, and he frowned at the technician watching the screen. Marc keenly caught this expression, clearly indicating that there was an issue with the previous readings.

"More or less?" Marc continued, "Among spies like you, are there more or fewer of your kind within S.H.I.E.L.D.?"

"Of my kind, there's only me," Schiller answered. Marc immediately looked to the technician, who shook their head once again.

Marc furrowed his brow and said, "If you're willing to be a witness with potentially damaging information, we can apply for witness protection for you. It could also work in your favor for a reduced sentence. So, it's in your best interest to tell us what you know about Hydra, S.H.I.E.L.D., and the KGB. It won't harm you."

"What do you want to know?" Schiller asked.

Marc stood up again, walked in front of him, and began pacing. He said, "I believe you should be aware that the Russian Federal Security Service recently arrested a high-ranking member of Hydra. Simultaneously, they revealed that the KGB had infiltrated Hydra and used its influence to rise through the ranks."

Marc turned his head, looking into Schiller's eyes, and asked, "We want to know what role S.H.I.E.L.D. played in this. Did they provide cover for Hydra's or the KGB's operations? Most importantly, does S.H.I.E.L.D.'s Director Nick Fury have any suspicion of complicity in the current situation due to inaction?"

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