The Black agent strode out of the room with the documents in hand, but Bruce did not leave. After standing before the table for several seconds, he slowly sat back down.
He rested his elbows on the tabletop, interlaced his fingers into fists beneath his nose, and narrowed his eyes.
As a glimmer flashed through his azure eyes, time in the room instantly began to rewind.
Jimmy walked backward into the room, set the documents down beside him, and sat down, once again facing Bruce across the table.
"He is quite an experienced Federal Bureau of Investigation agent," Bruce said. The moment he looked up, he saw another version of himself standing behind Jimmy.
The blue pupils in the Bruce seated at the table gradually vanished, leaving his eyes entirely white and somewhat terrifying. But the Bruce standing behind Jimmy gradually gained a pair of blue eyes—calm, rational, and filled with the light of wisdom.
The blue-eyed Bruce behind Jimmy stepped to the left and came to Jimmy's side. Pointing at the hand resting on the table, he said, "His hands bear very obvious signs of training. He is probably an excellent shot."
"How old is he?" asked the white-eyed Bruce, whose pupils had vanished.
"Judging by the Black man's bones and hair condition, he should be between thirty-five and forty. Because he underwent relatively rigorous physical training, he appears younger and stronger than most people."
The blue-eyed Bruce looked at Jimmy's completely frozen expression and said, "The signs of training on him indicate that he was once a Field Agent. Thirty-five to forty is the prime age for a Field Agent, so why is he sitting here doing clerical intelligence work?"
The white-eyed Bruce blinked gently, and time sped forward again. Jimmy stood, gathered the documents, pulled out his