Even Jesus Couldn't Save Them

After seeing off Bullseye and his two companions, Heisenberg silently returned to his lounge chair, and life once again slipped by quietly in rest.

Sometimes, when Heisenberg was bored out of his mind, he would come up with all sorts of pointless thoughts.

For instance, right now he was thinking.

He was a Kryptonian; basking in the sun made him happy.

But if he bought a vampire bloodline...

Sunlight caused vampires pain, while sunlight brought Kryptonians joy.

So if he were a hybrid of vampire and Kryptonian...

Then, when he was exposed to the sun, wouldn't he feel...

Agony?!!

"Haha..."

Heisenberg successfully cracked himself up.

The next morning, a light rain fell over New York, and Heisenberg was woken by the faint drizzle.

He activated his Bio-field, and the rain immediately slid past him. Suddenly, he realized that his Bio-field seemed a bit out of the ordinary.

Thinking this, Heisenberg promptly compared his Bio-field to the Superman he remembered from his impressions.

Superman did have a Bio-field, but he rarely showed a tendency to actively strengthen it.

Only when he needed it would he remember to put his Bio-field to use.

The Bio-field was more of a passive skill for Superman, unlike Heisenberg's, which was an active one!

Heisenberg pondered for a moment and finally figured out the reason.

It was simply because Superman had grown up on Earth!

For Superman, when he first formed his worldview—that childish yet exceptionally pure worldview of childhood—

Back then, he had already noticed that everything around him seemed incredibly fragile.

Perhaps at that moment, driven by an instinct not to harm anything around him, he developed his Bio-field.

And after that, no matter how much stronger Superman became, he never fully understood his own Bio-field.

Or rather, he never put any effort into what he assumed was just instinct.

But Heisenberg was different.

Heisenberg actively developed his Bio-field after becoming powerful. In fact, after realizing its existence, he deliberately trained to control it.

Therefore, he was better at utilizing his Bio-field than Superman.

For example, he had once used his Bio-field to control the Four Fundamental Forces like Gravity, forcing the Skrulls to lie helplessly on the ground.

This showed that Heisenberg's Bio-field had already surpassed the Superman of the movie universe.

Compared to Superman's Bio-field in the movie universe—which was passively activated, only meant to protect the world from being too badly damaged by him—

Heisenberg's Bio-field had already evolved from a defensive skill into the realm of offensive abilities!

And because Heisenberg realized this, he couldn't help but follow this line of thought.

If he continued to strengthen his use of the Bio-field and constantly expand its range...

Could he, to some extent, gain abilities similar to Magneto, King of Gravity, or even Doctor Manhattan?

After all, the source of these people's powers was their control over the Four Fundamental Forces!

Magneto applied the electromagnetic force, King of Gravity overcame Gravity, and as for that overpowered, blue-skinned, nudist enthusiast Doctor Manhattan...

He was the result of mastering both the strong and weak nuclear forces.

And Heisenberg's Bio-field...

Altering the Four Fundamental Forces within its range to influence the surrounding world!

This damn thing could definitely evolve into something like what Magneto and the others had!

Thinking this, Heisenberg immediately got excited.

He couldn't wait to adjust his Bio-field.

The raindrops around him instantly changed direction with his adjustments.

Rat-a-tat-tat!!!

Probably because he was just starting to train and lacked experience, he sent water flying everywhere.

Those droplets, after being misdirected by the Bio-field, ended up smashing the villa's glass skylight to pieces, like bullets.

Billy, who had been on guard downstairs the whole time, rushed up to the top floor with Jessica, the security chief of the Nightclub. But all they saw, besides a mess, was a helpless-looking Heisenberg.

And at that moment, Heisenberg suddenly had a realization.

What was so great about Magneto?

So what about the King of Gravity?

Even against Manhattan, he could still put up a fight.

Besides, developing his own abilities was nowhere near as convenient as exchanging for them through Origin Matter.

What's more, his Kryptonian bloodline alone was enough to keep him busy developing for a long time.

He could even upgrade the bloodline of the ancient Kryptonian Elder into that of the Kryptonian God Rao, Rui'ou, Nightwing, and Firebird.

He could even use Origin Matter to strengthen his own power directly.

Even without bothering to develop any messy abilities, he was confident he could climb to the level of a Creator God, or even beyond creation itself!

So...

"Damn, the Bio-field is really nice, but I'd better train out in the suburbs from now on!"

As he thought this, Heisenberg shut down the field. When he saw the people coming upstairs, he pursed his lips and waved a hand.

"Accidentally shattered the glass—too flimsy. Clean it up, will you? I'm heading to the Nightclub for a bit."

With that, Heisenberg irresponsibly left the rooftop, leaving only Jessica and Billy staring at each other.

After a long moment, the silent Jessica finally spoke.

"Kid, how do you think the Boss 'shattered' that glass? Did he have a need for it?"

"Pfft... cough, cough, cough, cough!!!"

Jessica's shockingly blunt question made Billy dare not listen any further.

He even picked up the tools himself and started cleaning up the broken glass right away.

As he swept, he grumbled inwardly.

Who doesn't know you're the woman involved with the Boss? Can you please stop telling dirty jokes in front of us underlings? We're trying to keep our lives here, damn it!!!

Seeing Billy's terrified reaction, Jessica pouted in boredom. She must have had a brain fart, chatting about such a deadly topic with his subordinate.

Looked like it was time to find Heisenberg for some games tonight again. Sigh...

Meanwhile, Heisenberg arrived at the Nightclub and, as usual, greeted the regulars who were drinking.

Unlike the past, when Heisenberg was certainly feared, but it was just fear.

Now, with his forces growing ever stronger, as he had nearly become the Dark Lord of New York, the true Godfather of the United States' underworld...

"Wishing you a pleasant time, Don...!"

"Grateful for the peace you've brought us, Fazze!"

"Your place never serves fake liquor—I love it here, Godfather!"

"Sir, this is my second home. I get to see you every day!"

"Boss, we all love you, haha!!!"

The people who showed up at the Nightclub during the day were almost all Heisenberg's most loyal supporters.

The Heisenberg in their mouths was obviously far more perfect than the real thing.

But so-called reality didn't stop Heisenberg from enjoying the praise of his fanboys and fangirls.

Yet among this crowd of admirers, a petite figure seemed a bit out of place.

Heisenberg walked toward the woman in a cute, light pink hoodie and sat down across from her.

"Barbara, did S.H.I.E.L.D. give you another day off?"

"Ha, I'm not even sure S.H.I.E.L.D. still exists anymore!"

Barbara grumbled discontentedly as she downed her drink.

"How many days has it been? Over forty days, and I haven't seen a single superior even once.

Orders come through like clockwork, but the people are completely missing. I haven't even seen a single other colleague in New York. Am I being isolated, or did they disband S.H.I.E.L.D. when I wasn't looking?"

As she spoke, Barbara expertly chugged a big gulp of liquor, a sight that made Heisenberg, watching the show, laugh.

Hearing his laugh, Barbara set down her glass in annoyance.

"And you're laughing! If you hadn't burst onto the scene out of nowhere and kept stirring up trouble in New York, I'd have been transferred back to the bureau to do desk work ages ago.

And you won't even give me a single break—at least toss me some piece of news I could report!"

"Haha, I didn't realize you were so stressed out now, haha!"

Heisenberg laughed heartlessly. After his laughter died down, he personally refilled Barbara's glass.

Pouring one for himself as well, he teased her.

"If you want to file a report so badly, how about I give you a kid? Then you can take leave."

"Pfft, relying on a bastard who changes women every night like you? I'd rather just quit on the spot!"

Barbara retorted indignantly, then raised her glass and clinked it with Heisenberg's.

They clinked glasses, and Barbara was about to continue chatting with Heisenberg when she suddenly noticed the expression on his face.

Heisenberg's smile had instantly turned stiff.

Connecting that to Heisenberg's superhuman senses, Barbara knew someone was about to be in trouble.

But she wasn't Coulson—whoever was in for it, as long as it wasn't Barbara herself or someone from S.H.I.E.L.D. she actually cared about, she couldn't be bothered with anyone else's fate.

And what happened next proved Barbara's guess right. Heisenberg frowned, then set his glass down on the table.

"You keep drinking. I've got something to handle."

He tossed out the words and turned to leave.

Leaving Barbara alone, staring helplessly at her glass.

She looked at it, pouted in dissatisfaction at first, then broke into a soft, giggling laugh.

Her dimples kept appearing on her cheeks, as if the glass in front of her still held someone's reflection.

Meanwhile, Heisenberg reached the rooftop and looked down over the crystal guardrail along the edge.

Around the base of his building, over eight hundred people were steadily gathering.

Those bastards were all dressed in bizarre outfits—studded leather jackets were the least of it.

Even though a light rain was falling, most of these gathered scumbags had their hairy arms exposed.

Some were even bare-chested, turning the whole block into a tattoo art expo.

At the same time, these bastards were holding up signs and chanting slogans.

Every other line in those signs and chants was an insult or mockery aimed at Heisenberg.

"An alien thinks he's the Godfather!"

"New York has been taken over by stupid aliens!"

"New York is for New Yorkers—we don't welcome aliens!"

"Beating the Hulk didn't save New Yorkers—we need business freedom!"

"Aliens out of New York!"

"Aliens out of New York!!!"

An explosive event like this should have had countless reporters swarming like starving wolves.

But maybe Heisenberg's relentless crackdown on the newspapers over the past two months had paid off.

Even though the protest was still an impressive spectacle, at least no weird reporters were feeding the public weird stories.

But what did it matter if there were no reporters below? What did it matter if this protest hadn't spread yet?

Heisenberg was still furious.

Furious!!!

He took a deep breath.

Then he pulled out his phone and dialed Bullseye's number.

The call barely went through before Bullseye picked up instantly.

He'd been in the middle of a pre-mission briefing for tonight's strike team—he'd only found out about the New York gang members' protest two minutes ago.

But no matter his excuse, he was already apologizing frantically into the phone.

"I'm sorry, Boss. I didn't think those bastards would pull this protest today.

I got careless lately—thought with our overwhelming force, I didn't need to track their every move. My fault!"

Bullseye admitted his mistake quickly, which slightly eased Heisenberg's anger.

After a moment, Heisenberg spoke.

"Gang members are always fickle. I can forgive your intelligence failure, but that's not what I need to talk to you about. It's something else."

"Yes, Boss, I'm listening!" Bullseye tensed up immediately.

He clearly heard Heisenberg take a sharp breath on the other end of the line, then speak coldly.

"Contact Rumlow. Pull every elite agent he can spare, plus every asset you can mobilize. Tomorrow night, I want every gang in New York wiped off the face of the earth."

"Yes, Boss, I'll get on it right away!"

"Wait, I'm not done. Those damn bastards want to see me, huh? Fine. Now I want to see them too.

They dare to pressure me with a protest? Do they think I'm Clark Kent?!!

Send out a notice in my name to every gang leader still standing in New York. Tomorrow at three in the afternoon, my Nightclub will be closed to the public—just for them!

They want to use my name to grab wealth and power.

Heh...

I'll scatter every last one of their ashes into the Pacific. Not even Jesus could save them. I said it!!!"