The red light in Homelander's eyes had grown blinding. The air around him began to warp from the heat, and a scorched smell seeped into Lucian's nose.
Lucian didn't back away. LV5 Carbon Skin should have been able to withstand Heat Vision, but he wasn't going to gamble on it. Besides, this man-child was extremely unstable. Once a fight started, even if Lucian survived, his abilities would be exposed. Worse still, Homelander could throw him straight into the stratosphere.
I have to interrupt his windup. His hand moved inside his pocket.
He was fast, but Homelander was faster. Homelander's left hand shot out like lightning and caught Lucian's wrist, his five fingers tightening like steel clamps. Lucian felt his wrist bones groaning, on the verge of shattering.
But he had already pulled out his phone.
The screen was on. The interface, however, had switched from the dialer to a livestream. The TikTok logo flashed in the upper right corner, the red "LIVE" indicator pulsed, and comments scrolled past.
Stream title: "Ran into a superstar on my night run!"
Viewers: 26. This was the result of his efforts at Godolkin University. Follower count was a very important factor in the students' rankings there. He hadn't expected the account he casually maintained to work wonders now.
With his other hand-or rather, the fingers of the hand being held-Lucian tapped the screen. The camera flipped to the front-facing view, aimed at Homelander's face.
"Guys! Look who I ran into!" Lucian's voice suddenly rose into the exaggerated delivery of a short-video influencer. He shoved the phone camera right between his own face and Homelander's. "Ran into a superstar on my night run! Oh my God, it's really Homelander!"
The TikTok stream's title read: Ran into a superstar on my night run. The viewer count in the upper right ticked up: 47.
Those forty-seven people were Lucian's get-out-of-death-free card.
The red light in Homelander's eyes vanished instantly, as though a bucket of ice water had doused it. The muscles of his face, slightly contorted with rage a moment before, rearranged themselves at an incredible speed. In less than half a second, he switched to that flawless signature smile printed on thousands upon thousands of posters.
"Good evening, everyone." Homelander even waved at the camera, his voice as gentle as a late-night radio host's, without the slightest trace of murderous intent. "It's lovely to see such an energetic young man out at this hour."
Lucian knew. Right now, Homelander's public image and approval ratings were his life, the very air he depended on to survive. As long as even one person was watching, he had to keep that perfect human disguise firmly in place.
"Mr. Homelander, are you still out on patrol this late? Oh my God, my hands are shaking!" Lucian pulled the camera back a little, making sure Homelander's whole body was in frame, while deliberately making his voice tremble with excitement.
"Of course. Keeping our citizens safe is my responsibility," Homelander said with a smile.
"But there's an emergency here right now."
He straightened and once again gave the camera a smile that showed eight teeth. "Get home soon, young man. Stay safe on your night runs."
With that, he bent his knees slightly and shot into the sky with a bang. His red cape left a streak in the night as he flew in the direction Lucian had made up earlier.
Lucian didn't lower his phone.
He held it up, the camera pointed at the empty night sky, keeping that excited expression of a devoted fan on his face. "Wow! Guys, did you see that? He flew away! That was so cool! This is the best birthday present I've ever had!"
The viewer count climbed past eighty, and scattered comments began floating across the stream.
"It really is Homelander!"
"Homie, Mommy loves you!"
"Still patrolling in the middle of the night. So dedicated."
"The streamer's so lucky. I want Homelander to pat my shoulder too."
Lucian watched the comments, his back already drenched in cold sweat. He knew perfectly well that Homelander might not have gone far. That freak had super vision and super hearing. He might be hovering above the clouds right now, staring straight at him. If Lucian gave anything away, or immediately ended the stream and ran toward the factory building, that red laser would slice his head off in an instant.
I have to wait him out. Patience? I have plenty.
Holding up his phone, he began walking slowly along the street like a real night runner, rambling to the camera as he went. "I can't believe I was that close to him. Did you see the emblem on his chest? It was glowing!"
Time ticked by. One minute. Two minutes.
Lucian focused intently, listening for the slightest unusual sound in the night sky. No rush of air, no heartbeat, nothing.
Just as the stream reached its third minute.
Boom!
Three blocks away, an enormous fireball suddenly erupted. Orange-red flames soared into the sky, lighting up half the night. A deafening explosion followed, making even the ground beneath Lucian's feet tremble.
Frenchie had pulled it off. The guy had probably detonated a small array of propane tanks.
That was more than loud enough to draw Homelander's attention away completely.
Lucian let out a long breath. He should be safe now.
"Guys, something seems to have happened over there. An explosion! I need to get out of here!" After running some distance with the stream still up, he activated Carbon Skin and pretended to lower his phone to test the waters. Only after doing this three times did he dare actually slip it back into his pocket and sprint at full speed toward the factory building from earlier under cover of darkness.
He pushed open the ajar iron door, and the heavy stench of blood and some pungent chemical hit him in the face.
Butcher and Hughie were busy at the workbench.
"Unbelievable. You're actually still alive?" Butcher didn't even look up. He held a huge plastic bucket and was pouring something into a stainless steel trough.
"Nearly died." Lucian walked over and glanced into the trough.
Butcher and Hughie stood at the workbench. Where Translucent had been lying was now a large pool of thick, yellowish-brown liquid giving off a pungent smell.
"The hydrofluoric acid mixture packs a punch, but this bastard's skin is too tough." Butcher spat and prodded the remaining scraps of skin with an iron shovel.
"Then what do we do now?" Hughie stood behind him, his face deathly pale, both hands gripping the hem of his shirt. "If anyone finds this stuff, we're all getting the electric chair. No, Homelander will tear us apart himself."
"Shut up, Hughie," Butcher cut him off roughly.
He went to the corner and dragged out a heavy gray metal box. Its surface was a dull, matte gray, and it looked exceptionally heavy.
"Zinc box." Butcher kicked it. "Homelander can see through everything except zinc. I specifically tracked this down. Put all the skin and bone fragments that won't dissolve inside."
Lucian watched from the side.
His gaze fell on a puddle of residue at the edge of the workbench.
Among the charred remains was an extremely small metal object. It was a miniature tracking chip, the tracking device Vought International implanted beneath the skin of every member of The Seven.
The strong acid hadn't destroyed it. This military-grade chip used an extremely expensive casing. Mixed in with the blackened residue, it was barely noticeable.
Butcher and Hughie clearly hadn't noticed it. They were busy shoveling the remaining skin fragments and slime into the zinc box.
Should I warn them?
Perhaps they hadn't found that chip in the original plot either, but they had still written a taunting message inside the box.
Then let the original plot stay on course. What I need is chaos.
If The Boys and Vought remained in this balance, feeling each other out in the dark, how long would it take him to collect enough superhuman abilities?
Only by making the two sides clash head-on and letting the conflict fully erupt could he, the third hand hidden in the shadows, reap the greatest benefits from the chaos.
Vought had to discover that Translucent was dead. They had to follow this chip's signal to the box, then discover that this was a murder targeting The Seven.
"Lu, give me a hand," Butcher called without turning around. "Help lift this thing in."
"Coming," Lucian answered.
He stepped forward and helped Butcher steady the rim of the zinc box with his rubber-gloved hands. Butcher began welding the lid shut with a welding torch.
Dazzling sparks flashed in the dim factory building. The strong smell of melting metal masked the sour stench that had filled the air.
Hughie watched from the side, his body still trembling slightly. "Can we really pull this off? I mean, this is a member of The Seven."
"He's just a box of rubbish now, Hughie." Butcher removed his protective face shield, revealing a face full of ruthlessness. "And rubbish belongs in the sea."
"Come on. Get it into the car." Butcher patted the box.
The three of them worked together to lift the heavy zinc box into the trunk.
The engine started, and the car drove back into the dark streets.
Before you continue