The Female

Cate swayed when she heard the word "accomplice."

She lowered her head and looked at her hands, now back in their gloves.

This was the first time she had willingly defied Shetty. She raised her head. The moisture in her eyes had yet to dry.

"Then, see you tomorrow." Her voice was soft, but she enunciated each word firmly. "Mr. Accomplice."

She turned toward the gymnasium's side door. Her steps were stiff at first, then grew faster and faster. As though she were fleeing, yet also eagerly embracing a new life.

Lucian stood where he was and watched her disappear.

He turned and looked at Luke at the bottom of the crater. The kid was still snoring, his brow furrowed, his subconscious still digesting the implanted false memories. Lucian walked down into the crater and crouched beside Luke. He pressed his right hand against Luke's temple.

Cate's ability was overpowering, but he never bet everything on someone else.

Mind Control LV3 activated. Mental power pierced Luke's cerebral cortex through his fingertips.

"Sleep, superstar." "Sleep a little deeper."

"You exhausted yourself today. A mistake with Thermonuclear Manipulation gave you a concussion. You need rest." This was not erasing memories.

He was merely adding another lock to Cate's suggestion. Making absolutely certain this guy would not wake before sunrise. Today's real main event had arrived.

A virtual panel unfolded across his retinas.

[Target: Luke (Golden Boy)]

[Copyable ability 1: Super physique (LV4)-Enhances physical strength, recovery, and resistance to blows.]

[Copyable ability 2: Thermonuclear manipulation (LV4)-Controls and releases extremely high-temperature flames, triggers localized explosions, grants immunity to fire damage, and enables Thermonuclear Flight.]

Lucian studied the two options. LV4 super physique was tempting. With it, he would essentially be immune to most conventional firearms. But that was not enough.

Living right under Vought's nose, he would face Supes capable of tearing people to pieces in the future.

Against a monster like Homelander, physique alone would merely change "destroyed in one punch" to "destroyed in two punches." What he lacked most right now was the explosive power to deal effective damage.

"Choose to copy 'thermonuclear manipulation.'"

[Copying: Thermonuclear manipulation (LV4).]

[Estimated integration time: 6 hours.]

Six hours. Lucian glanced at his watch. There was more than enough time. After dragging Luke into a secluded corner at the very top of the stands, he sat down, closed his eyes, and began waiting for the furnace about to erupt inside his body.

Meanwhile.

Brooklyn, New York.

A cargo van sat in the shadows across the street. Its interior reeked of cheap coffee, day-old pizza, and the sweat of people who had not showered in days.

"I fucking said something was off about this bitch." Butcher clenched an unlit cigarette between his teeth and stared hard at the monitor in front of him.

The screen showed the interior of The Female's apartment.

"This doesn't make sense." Mother's Milk frowned, a notebook in his hand. "The Female is A-Train's girlfriend. A-Train's been pretty unstable lately, too. If compound V is circulating among frontline Supes like them, there's no way the Vought Executives don't know."

"Of course they know! They're the heads of the drug cartel!" Butcher slammed his hand on the console and turned to Frenchie. "Frenchie, turn the sound up. Let's see what this bitch wants to do when she's high."

Frenchie shrugged and turned a knob. "As you wish, sir."

On-screen, The Female was in a state of extreme agitation. She paced back and forth through the living room, her signature bone claws springing from her hands from time to time as she swung them through the air. Her pupils were dilated, her breathing rapid, and even her skin bore an abnormal flush.

The doorbell rang.

The Female stopped abruptly, retracted her bone claws, and hurried to the door to pull it open.

Her landlord stood outside, a potbellied, balding middle-aged man.

"Listen, Ms. Popclaw, this month's rent is already overdue..."

Before the landlord could finish, The Female grabbed his tie and roughly hauled him into the room.

After noticing the landlord drooling over the "superhero glamour shots" from her heyday on the wall, the once-celebrated Supe gave him a seductive smile.

"Oh, God." Hughie covered his eyes in the van. "I don't want to watch this. What's she trying to do?"

"Shut up, Hughie. Watch closely." Butcher stared at the screen, amusement creeping into his eyes.

Inside the apartment, The Female pushed the landlord onto the couch. The enormous energy brought on by compound V rampaged through her veins, and she needed an outlet. She straddled his thighs, her gaze hazy and wild.

"Want to try something exciting, Mr. Landlord?" The Female giggled and reached out to rip open his shirt.

The landlord was clearly stunned by this unexpected sexual encounter, but the urges in his lower body immediately overpowered his reason. "O-of course. What do you want to do?"

"I'll be the cop, and you'll be the criminal." The Female leaned down, panting into his ear.

Inside the van.

"That's fucking disgusting." Mother's Milk curled his lip in distaste.

"I think it's rather creative." Frenchie rubbed his chin.

The situation on-screen began spiraling out of control.

The Female's movements grew increasingly forceful, her strength completely out of control under the influence of compound V.

"Wait... Ms. Popclaw... you're hurting me..." The landlord's face began turning purple.

"Don't stop! Don't stop!" The Female's eyes were closed, her expression contorted with intense pleasure.

Crack-squelch!

It was like a ripe watermelon being crushed in an instant by a hydraulic press.

The landlord's head burst beneath The Female's legs. Red-and-white fluid mixed with bone fragments sprayed outward across her face, her chest, and the wall behind her.

The headless corpse twitched twice, then slumped limply onto the couch.

The Female opened her eyes and stared blankly at her lower body, smeared with brain matter, then at the headless corpse beneath her.

"Aah!!!"

The piercing scream came through the listening device into the van, stabbing everyone's eardrums.

On the screen, what had just been a scene of absurdity and frenzy had now frozen into a bloody tragedy.

"Fuck..." Frenchie sucked in a cold breath. "I take back what I said. This isn't just bad taste. This is a slaughterhouse."

"See? I told you what these 'Supes' were like."

Butcher watched the screen coldly. There was no fear on his face; instead, excitement appeared. He leisurely spat out the gum in his mouth and turned to Frenchie inside the van. "Did you record that, Frenchie?"

"Every second, in uncensored HD, my friend." Frenchie wiped the cold sweat from his forehead. "This is enough to put her in prison for life, or... make her do exactly what we say."

Butcher stood and straightened his black trench coat, his eyes gleaming with the ferocity of a hound locking onto its prey.

"Good." Butcher grinned, baring his stark white teeth. "We've got our leverage. Now it's time to have a chat with this 'superstar' about A-Train's secrets."