Go, stop him your way

Lynn slept deeply.

Perhaps it was because he had stayed up half the night working on that portable cassette player, or perhaps it was because the concept of time always blurred so easily in this pure white sterile room.

When he groggily opened his eyes, he found the spare thin blanket draped over him.

Little John was still sitting cross-legged beside him, in the same position he had been in before Lynn fell asleep.

Only now, he had something else in his hands.

The Rubik's Cube, whose colors had been thoroughly scrambled, now lay quietly in his palm, its six faces and six colors perfectly aligned.

Lynn rubbed his aching eyes, abruptly sat up, and stared at the cube.

"You solved it?" Lynn asked, somewhat surprised.

He remembered that before he fell asleep, the little fellow had not even aligned the cross on the second face.

"Yeah." John handed the cube to Lynn, a flicker of pride crossing his bright blue eyes. "I watched the pattern of how the colors changed with every turn. It's really just a fixed formula. As long as I calculate all the steps in my head beforehand, I won't make a mistake."

Lynn took the cube and gave it a couple of casual turns, confirming that it really had been solved, rather than forcibly dismantled and glued back together.

A six-year-old child not only possessed world-destroying power, but the processing ability of his superbrain was downright monstrous, too.

"You're a genius, John."

Lynn was generous with his praise, ruffling his blond hair. "You're not just patient. You're smart, too. A fool with power only destroys things, but a hero with wisdom can make the rules."

The corners of John's mouth lifted slightly at the praise, but he quickly restrained himself, trying hard to put on a serious expression that said, "It's no big deal."

Just then, in the midst of this tender moment of "fatherly affection and filial devotion," the intercom in the corner of the sterile room suddenly sounded.

But what came through was not Director Madelyn's icy female voice. It was a low, steady male voice carrying the authority of someone who could not be refused.

"A splendid interaction, Mr. Lynn."

The smile on Lynn's face froze instantly.

He whipped his head around toward the one-way bulletproof glass.

Although it looked like a mirror from inside, Lynn knew that whoever stood on the other side now was definitely not Old Mike on his usual patrol, nor any of those trembling researchers.

It was Stan Edgar's voice.

Vought International's current vice president who held the real power, the cold-blooded capitalist who treated superheroes as assembly-line products and political bargaining chips.

"Bring your 'little hero,' Mr. Lynn."

Edgar's voice continued through the speaker. "Come to the Number Four Combined Testing Ground in Area C. I'd like to see for myself whether the results of your education over these past few months are as outstanding as Madelyn reported."

The connection was cut off from the other end.

Lynn's heart skipped a beat.

The Number Four Combined Testing Ground in Area C.

That was not where John usually played with blocks or had his grip strength tested.

It was an enclosed fortress specifically used to test Supes' destructive capabilities in actual combat, with half-meter-thick radiation-shielding lead plates and high-strength alloy sandwiched into every wall.

What was that old fox planning? A combat test?

"Lynn, who was talking?"

John keenly sensed the change in Lynn's mood. He stood up, his little fists tightening slightly as he watched the overhead speaker warily. "Is he a bad guy? His voice makes me uncomfortable."

"No, he... he's the company's big boss. He's also the one who gives us hamburgers and portable cassette players."

Lynn drew a deep breath, trying to keep his voice steady. "John, listen. We're going somewhere new now, and something unexpected might happen. But you have to remember what I taught you. Justice, rules, and patience."

Looking at Lynn's serious expression, John nodded earnestly. "I remember. When facing bad guys, break their legs and teach them the rules."

Lynn gave a wry smile and took John's little hand. "Come on. Let's go meet the big boss."

The airlock door slowly opened.

Outside, four fully armed security guards carrying specially designed large-caliber rifles were already waiting.

They looked at John as though he were a nuclear bomb that could detonate at any moment, their hands trembling slightly around their guns.

"Lead the way." Lynn kept John protected at his side, his tone calm.

This was the first time in John's six years of life that he had left Area B's isolation corridor.

Along the way, every researcher who encountered them pressed against the wall as though avoiding the plague, not even daring to breathe loudly.

That instinctive fear and rejection formed an invisible wall.

John keenly picked up on those looks.

He was not afraid. He merely found them boring.

To him, these people in white coats were like fragile insects. If he wanted, he would not even need Heat Vision. A single shout would shatter all their eardrums.

But he did not do that, because Lynn's hand was warm, holding his tightly.

After passing through three heavy alloy blast doors, they arrived at the Number Four Testing Ground in Area C.

It was an enormous space the size of a football field, its floor and walls covered in black scorch marks and huge craters left by various weapons tests.

In the bulletproof observation room on the testing ground's second floor, Stan Edgar stood in an immaculate suit, his hands behind his back, looking down at Lynn and John in the center of the grounds.

Madelyn stood trembling behind him to one side.

"Sir, the test subject has arrived," Madelyn said into the microphone.

Edgar gave a slight nod and pressed a red button.

An iron door at the far end of the testing ground slowly rose.

Accompanied by heavy panting and the sound of chains dragging along the ground, an exceptionally burly man emerged, his knotted muscles almost grotesquely misshapen.

His eyes were bloodshot, his skin an unnatural dark red, and beastlike growls kept rumbling from his mouth.

The handcuffs around his wrists had already been bent out of shape by his brute strength.

"Mr. Lynn, this is a street gang leader who lost control after injecting an overdose of inferior Compound V."

Edgar's voice echoed through the empty testing ground. "Yesterday, he robbed an armored cash truck in Queens and tore three police officers apart with his bare hands. Public relations went to considerable trouble to suppress the news."

Lynn's heart sank, and he instinctively shifted to shield John behind him.

What he feared most had happened after all.

Vought International did not care at all whether John had a normal worldview and values. They only needed to confirm whether this weapon could kill, and whether it dared to kill.

"You want to teach him to be a hero. That's good."

Edgar's tone was level, yet carried a bone-deep chill. "But the essence of a hero is taking out the trash. Now, have that boy dispose of the trash in front of him. If he can't do it, or if he gets hurt, that will prove your educational methods are a failure. And Vought International has no need for employees who fail."

It was a blatant threat.

If John behaved like a weak, normal child today, Lynn would most likely end up stuffed into a black garbage bag and dumped into the Hudson River.

He might not even merit a garbage bag of his own.

The dark-red muscle monster seemed to sense something, too. He violently shook the deformed handcuffs off his wrists, his blood-red eyes fixing on Lynn in his white coat at the center of the grounds, and the seemingly frail little blond boy behind him.

"ROAR!!"

The monster roared and charged at Lynn like a heavy truck out of control, crushing the hard alloy floor beneath his feet.

The wind he stirred up lashed painfully against Lynn's cheeks.

Lynn's palms were slick with cold sweat, but he did not retreat.

"John." Lynn did not look at the observation room overhead. Instead, he lowered his gaze to the boy beside him, his voice more serious than ever.

"He's breaking the rules."

John's bright blue eyes locked onto the charging monster, a suffocating pressure emanating from his small body.

"Yes. He's a murderer, a bad guy through and through."

Lynn released John's hand and took a step back. "Go, stop him your way."