Back to New York.
Ian hovered in midair, the night wind tugging at the hem of his clothes. The city below blazed with lights, and the flames at Vought International Tower stood out especially starkly among them.
Soldier Boy had already laid out every supe who had charged at him.
But he had not killed them. He stood before the building's main entrance, the steps littered with bodies. Vought International's tactical units flanked in from the side, black armored vehicles stopping at the edge of the plaza. The doors opened, and fully armed soldiers poured out in single file, their rifles opening fire at the same time.
"Rat-a-tat-tat!"
Bullets struck Soldier Boy with a dense clatter. Sparks burst across the surface of his skin, then ricocheted away. His body did not so much as sway. Soldier Boy paused, turned his head, and looked at the row of soldiers firing at him.
His voice carried across the plaza.
"Are you idiots? Bullets can't pierce me. Can't you see that?" It was still the Ra language system as Soldier Boy viciously cursed out these tactical units.
Bullets were still flying, still striking him. Soldier Boy did not dodge. He just stood there and let those bullets hit him. As he turned his head, a commander drew a pistol and fired a shot at him. The bullet hit his forehead, shattered, and the fragments scraped across the commander's own cheek, blood seeping from the wound.
"A bunch of morons."
Soldier Boy sneered.
"How is that possible—his body, his body is this terrifying, so why could that streetwalker take it?" The commander froze.
Soldier Boy looked at him, his voice colder than before.
"You think you're funny?" He took one step, and the commander turned and ran.
"Idiot!"
Soldier Boy did not chase him.