In the dimly lit room, the smell of cigarettes and alcohol hung everywhere as freelance writer Dodger Wilson walked out of the bedroom with his phone in hand.
"Listen to me, Mr. Henry, I'm absolutely qualified for your newspaper's travel column."
"I've been to many places, I have extensive experience, and I have quite a few fans."
"No, what happened that day was just an accident."
"I'm definitely not antisocial."
"No, no, no, I'm not anti-hero either."
Beep, beep, beep.
The call was disconnected.
Dodger Wilson let out a roar. He picked up his phone, intending to smash it on the floor, but restrained the impulse and threw it onto the couch instead.
He covered his face and sank wearily onto the sofa.
Ever since his failed stunt backfired that day, Dodger's career had practically reached its end.
The newspapers and magazines that had once worked with him now dared not use his articles, afraid of drawing Vought's attention.
His streaming career had also hit rock bottom after losing a huge number of fans.
He stared blankly at the ceiling, then heard someone knocking on the door. His landlord's voice sounded from outside.
"Dodger, I heard you!"
"I know you're home!"
"When are you paying this month's rent and utilities?"
Dodger picked up a beer bottle by his feet and hurled it hard against the door as his answer.
The landlord cursed, "I'm giving you three more days. Otherwise, get the hell out!"
Dodger shook his head. As he lowered his hands, they touched something. He picked it up and found it was a credit card bill.
"Damn Supers."
"Damn Homelander!"
Dodger suddenly sprang to his feet. "Why don't you all just die?"
After venting, he staggered to the window, panting and despondent, then opened it.
"Hi."
A greeting came from outside the window.
Dodger looked up and saw a man in a blue-and-white combat suit and helmet waving at him from the rooftop of a building across the alley.
Then the man jumped over.
Dodger hastily backed away, stepped on an empty can, and fell flat on his ass.
The next second.
A figure outside the window abruptly filled his vision. The man crashed through the window, landed amid a shower of glass shards, rolled forward, then brushed the glass off himself and stood up.
Only then did Dodger see his face clearly. He froze. "You're Blue Hawk?"
"What are you doing here?"
Blue Hawk glanced outside and sighed. "Yeah, this isn't the neighborhood I patrol."
"You know what?"
"The neighborhood I patrol is awful."
"It's full of Black people. Those filthy Black monkeys do nothing but smoke weed, rob people, screw women, and even screw men."
"Oh, and I hate it most when they sing."
"That kind of life is like a swamp. I want to escape, you understand?"
Blue Hawk pointed into the distance beyond the window, where a tower spire could faintly be seen bathed in the evening sunlight.
"Look over there."
"Seven Tower."
"It's so bright, so tall."
"That's where I belong, not dealing with Black monkeys all day."
"But getting there isn't easy."
"I'm getting old, and I'm not that strong."
"To get into Seven Tower, I need an invitation."
Blue Hawk turned around and looked at Dodger with a broad smile.
Dodger's pupils widened slightly. "I'm the invitation?"
"Who says you aren't?"
Blue Hawk walked toward Dodger. "A few days ago, you put on quite a show."
"I admire your courage. You actually dared to smear Homelander. To be honest, I don't like that guy who flies around in the sky either, but I don't dare say it out loud like you did."
"Anyway, you pissed Homelander off badly."
"So I figured, if I take you to Seven Tower, maybe I can get an invitation to join The Seven."
He bent down, grabbed one of Dodger's feet, and dragged him toward the window.
Dodger screamed, "No, no, no, it's not that easy."
"I'm just a nobody. Homelander may have already forgotten about me."
"So please, don't hurt me."
Blue Hawk said casually, "Shut up, or I'll rip out your tongue. Your choice."
Just then.
The apartment door suddenly flew entirely off its hinges and smashed toward Blue Hawk.
Blue Hawk raised an arm to shield his head. The wooden door slammed into him and shattered into a hole.
Blue Hawk stood there completely unharmed. He tore the door apart and looked toward the doorway.
A cold, imposing figure stood there.
Nearly two meters tall, its entire body gleamed with metal. Its base color was black, accented with gold.
An Armored Man had appeared before Blue Hawk.
"What the hell?" Blue Hawk had barely begun to question it.
When a red dot appeared on his face.
Then the red dot swiftly slid downward, passing over Blue Hawk's body.
Dodger stared blankly from the floor.
He watched Blue Hawk's eyes roll with difficulty, terror filling them, before the Superhero's body split apart to either side.
Blood and organs gushed out, splattering onto the floor and all over Dodger.
Only after a moment did Dodger start screaming.
His mouth was suddenly covered. It was the Armored Man.
The faceplate lifted, revealing a rugged face and a thick beard.
"Shut up, pansy."
"Unless you want to bring the cops here."
"Though actually, the cops will be here soon enough."
"These assholes all have trackers shoved up their asses. Once they die, the cops know."
The bearded man cursed as he got to his feet and looked at the two halves of the corpse on the ground.
"Heh. A Superhero's gut is full of shit too. No different from anyone else."
Then he turned to Dodger. "So, would you kindly get over here and give me a hand?"
"I'm guessing you've got suitcases in this place?"
A while later, two suitcases were packed full of Blue Hawk's dismembered corpse.
Dodger huddled in a corner, wrapped in a blanket, watching the bearded man in Battle Armor shove a sofa against the doorway.
Then he looked at the two bloodstained suitcases and said in a trembling voice, "Sir, please don't kill me."
"Coward."
The bearded man walked over. "You weren't this pathetic in your livestream a few days ago. Where'd the man who dared to smear Homelander go?"
"If I'd known he wasn't here, I wouldn't have come."
Dodger looked up. "You're not a Superhero?"
"Bullshit. If I were a Superhero, you'd be the one stuffed in those suitcases right now!"
The bearded man somehow produced a cigar, cut it, lit it, and took a puff.
"So, Mr. Dodger, do you still have the guts and courage to fight against superheroes?"
"But let me remind you, even if you don't, your good days are over."
"After all, Blue Hawk's corpse was chopped into pieces in your rented apartment. This guy's cells are all over the floor now. With any forensic examination, you won't be able to explain yourself."
Dodger shook his head. "But you killed him."
The bearded man gave a roguish grin. "Do you think anyone will believe you?"
Dodger's face immediately turned pale. After a while, he finally asked, "Who are you?"
"Let's get acquainted."
The bearded man held out a bloodstained hand. "My name is Butcher."
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