You Bandits Are Too Rude

"And what if I am?"

Ron spread his hands.

His goal was already achieved—he'd come here, taken Starlight along to see the place, and shattered her illusions about superheroes and Vought ahead of schedule.

Whether Starlight, who had always made superheroes her life's goal, could handle this blow was none of his concern.

"Is every hero like this?"

Starlight bit her lip, unwilling to accept that everything propping up her dream as a superhero was a lie.

"Do you think a truly upright and kind superhero could survive in Vought's environment?"

He shot back, then turned and walked out of the alley.

"You brought me here on purpose today, didn't you?

Let me see the others, so I'd think you're not such a bastard."

"You're overthinking it."

"I don't want to go home. Can you take me somewhere high, where there's no one?"

Starlight, heartbroken and silent, quickened her pace to catch up, her voice low.

Tonight had hit her too hard. She was even starting to doubt the meaning of everything she'd worked for since childhood, lost in confusion, and pleaded.

"Use that ability of yours from last time."

"Somewhere high?

With your body, there's no place nearby where you can jump and end it all.

Go home and try some pills instead."

Ron offered kindly.

Starlight's offense was weak, but her defense was solid—even a sniper rifle couldn't hurt her.

"No, I just want to go somewhere quiet."

"Isn't this when a man's supposed to comfort a woman?"

She was sad and needed solace—wasn't this the perfect chance to slip in, like they said online? Starlight felt a bitter resentment, wondering why Ron was so indifferent to her.

Hadn't he even had her yet?

"Last time you left me behind, I still had things to say.

I've never been in love. That was my first time experiencing something like that."

"Huh? You're joking?"

Hearing that, Ron turned back with a surprised raise of his eyebrow.

The next second, Starlight hugged him, burying her face in his back, her voice low.

"Let's go outside the city. To the empty mountain out there. I want some quiet."

Whether a woman's sadness needing comfort was the perfect chance to swoop in, Ron didn't know.

Because he hadn't done anything at all—the woman had thrown herself into his arms seeking solace.

Under the starry sky, on the empty mountain.

He also verified Starlight's words.

The next day, around noon.

In a bustling district lined with skyscrapers, inside a fifth-floor hotel room across from a building hosting a Jewelry Exhibition.

"Looks like my initial twenty-thousand-plus Ability Points had Starlight's contribution."

Standing by the window, Ron thought about last night. It must have been the butterfly effect from his appearance in this world.

Sometimes, small changes in certain things could trigger massive chain reactions.

And his identity wasn't that of some insignificant nobody. Under the butterfly effect he'd caused, Starlight, born into a religious family, had never been in love this time, focusing entirely on her superhero career.

"Hey, that gang of robbers got word that the Jewelry Exhibition organizers are moving the jewels early, so they've decided to strike now. They're coming fully armed to rob the place."

A displeased voice cut in. Queen Maeve frowned beside him.

"And you're spacing out?"

Staying up late was the worst enemy of a woman's skin. Moving up the operation meant finishing everything before nightfall, which put her in a good mood.

But she saw Ron, the star of this publicity stunt, staring out the window as if lost in thought. Facing heavily armed robbers was no joke.

Pulling his gaze back from outside, Ron looked Queen Maeve up and down. She followed the same path as Wonder Woman—pretty face, dashing demeanor, brown hair cascading over smooth shoulders.

In response to her displeasure, he replied flatly.

"Nice suit."

Among the Seven's garish array of colorful costumes, only Queen Maeve's was passable in his eyes.

A headband on her forehead, a female half-body battle armor, and long boots beneath her skirt—she looked stern yet beautiful, with a touch of queenly bearing.

"Battle armor? I'm talking about the robbers!

Whoever's after this priceless jewelry will be packing heavy firepower."

Ron didn't take her words seriously at all. She huffed in anger and emphasized bluntly.

"Listen, don't think I care about you.

The company ordered me to work with you. If you die at the hands of those robbers, my credibility as a veteran member will be questioned, and I'll lose fans!

Don't drag me down, got it?"

"Mm-hmm, got it."

Ron still brushed her off with a light, dismissive reply.

In The Seven, the only one with a shred of conscience left was Queen Maeve. When she first joined Vought, she was much like Starlight.

But soon, she saw too much hypocrisy and darkness, realized she couldn't change a thing, grew depressed, and started going with the flow.

Still, she hadn't given up on being a superhero—she played along with Vought's fake PR and missions while doing what she could to save people.

"You..."

Seeing Ron completely unfazed, Maeve grew angrier, her face darkening.

But just then, on the upper floor of the building across the street, a robber in a bulletproof vest carrying a rifle peeked out cautiously, then pulled the curtain shut.

"Dark Star, Queen Maeve, the targets have entered the building and taken control of the exhibition hostages. You may proceed."

Ashley's voice came through the walkie-talkie on the table.

Unlike the late-night drug bust Starlight got at an empty dock arranged by Vought, Ron's first mission was rescuing hostages at a high-end jewelry exhibition. Many of the people inside were the city's rich and powerful—a golden opportunity to make a splash, rise to fame, and build connections.

"Hope your body can take a rocket launcher!"

With no time to argue, Maeve threw out one last taunt mixed with a warning, opened the window, and prepared to leap from the fifth floor to rush across the street.

Thump~

A faint sound came from behind.

"Huh? Where'd he go?"

At the strange noise, Maeve, one foot on the windowsill, turned her head—and found Ron's figure had vanished from the room.

On the eighth floor, the massive exhibition hall hosting the Jewelry Exhibition had been taken over.

All the attendees were hostages, herded to the corner at gunpoint. No matter how gentlemanly or ladylike their attire, no matter their status or power, they now trembled in fear, crouched on the floor with hands on their heads.

"No crying, no screaming—or I'll shut them up for good."

The robber leader, tall and burly with a hardened thug's aura, fired two shots at the ceiling with a submachine gun, his exposed eyes fierce as he barked his warning.

Some of his men aimed guns at the hostages, while others smashed the exhibition glass with hammers, stuffing priceless jewelry into velvet pouches.

But suddenly—bang.

A handsome man in a stern, imposing black battle armor appeared in the hall.

"Drawing the curtains? Having a secret party?"

He clasped his hands behind his back, like an uninvited guest casually surveying the room.

"Who the hell are you?"

The robber leader's face twisted in shock as he shouted.

"Fire! Kill this freak in costume!"

The sudden appearance, plus Ron's outfit, made it obvious he was one of those costumed superpowered heroes.

Rat-a-tat-tat!

In an instant, twenty or thirty submachine guns aimed at him, muzzles spitting fire.

Bullets that could pierce a human body struck his form and instantly lost all momentum, clattering to the floor as a pile of yellow shell casings—not even scratching his clothes.

"You robbers have no manners at all."

He'd only asked a question and got a hail of bullets. Ron kept his hands behind his back, expressionless, his eyes glowing deep red.