Vought Tower's top floor office.
Madelyn stood in front of the huge mahogany desk, not even daring to make a loud sound while breathing.
In her hand she held a report that had just been uploaded from the forty floors underground, and the edges of the paper were already soaked with cold sweat from her palms.
"President, the first ten minutes when Stormfront took over New Vanguard Camp..."
Madelyn swallowed a mouthful of dry saliva, and her voice couldn't help but tremble, "She killed seven children on the spot. All of them were people of color. Now the whole Basement smells like burning, and the remaining children are completely on the verge of collapse."
Stan Edgar is sitting in a chair with a pen in his hand, signing a lengthy financial statement.
After hearing Madelyn's report, his pen tip didn't even pause and he signed his name smoothly.
Then he put the document aside and raised his head. There was no human compassion in his eyes hidden behind the lenses.
"Calculate the initial research and development costs of these seven defective products and deduct them directly from the annual budget of the Stormfront department."
Edgar's tone was calm, as if he was dealing with several assembly line products that were damaged during transportation, "Tell Logistics Department to clean up the coke on site as soon as possible, so as not to delay their training progress in the gravity room in the afternoon."
Madelyn opened her mouth, as if she wanted to say that those were seven living children, but looking at Edgar's suffocating calmness, she finally swallowed her words.
"Okay, President."
"Remember, Madelyn, we don't need to care about how she was trained. We only need the whip in her hand to produce the effect we want. As long as she can make us a sharp enough knife, even if Basement is filled with body bags, it will be worth the cost."
Edgar lowered his head again and opened another document.
At this moment, Long Island Estate, which is dozens of kilometers away from Manhattan, has a completely different scene.
The morning in early winter was obviously chilly, and there was a thin layer of white frost on Lawn.
Buddy emerged from the warm kennel, sneezed loudly, and the big bell on his neck made a crisp tinkling sound.
It shook its golden hair and walked slowly towards the back door of the kitchen of the villa.
The kitchen is filled with the rich aroma of pumpkin and millet porridge.
Lynn is standing in front of the stove, holding a long-handled wooden spoon in his hand, slowly stirring the golden thick porridge in the pot.
He was wearing a beige thick-lined sweater today, and a dark gray cashmere scarf was casually wrapped around the sweater.
The indoor temperature doesn't actually require wearing a scarf, but the soft cashmere on your neck does give you a comfortable warmth.
There were slight footsteps on the stairs to the second floor.
John walked downstairs wearing loose home clothes.
He immediately saw Lynn standing in the kitchen, and the dark gray scarf around Lynn's neck.
The blond boy's footsteps paused momentarily.
He stood there and stared for a few seconds, then lowered his head slightly, pretending to be nonchalant and walked to the refrigerator to get the milk, but those Azure eyes seemed to have fallen into stars, astonishingly bright.
The corners of the mouth seem to be out of control and cannot be suppressed no matter how hard they are pressed.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk, look, some people are so happy today that their tails are raised to the sky."
Buddy squeezed into the kitchen through the half-open glass door, sat down at John's feet, and mercilessly exposed John's disguise with that vicissitudes of voice.
"Shut up and go eat your dog food."
John poured a glass of cold milk. Although he said disgusting words in his mouth, his tone did not have the slightest hint of the usual coldness of keeping away from strangers.
Buddy rolled his eyes, raised his front paws on the cooking table, and looked at Lynn eagerly.
"Boss, pumpkin porridge is good for dogs' stomach. I think I can have a big bowl. By the way, the color of that scarf really suits you. It looks much better than those lifeless windbreakers you used to have."
This golden retriever not only learned to beg for food, but also learned to flatter him very naturally.
Lynn smiled and shook his head, took Buddy's exclusive large food bowl, filled it with a full spoonful of pumpkin porridge with minced meat, and placed it in front of its wooden box seat.
At this time, Reggie and Tommy also went downstairs noisily.
Reggie, for the first time today, did not wear his tight-fitting sportswear. Instead, he wore a slightly slutty floral shirt and a pair of exaggerated sunglasses on the bridge of his nose.
"How's it going? He's handsome, isn't he?"
Reggie walked around in the center of the kitchen and pointed at the sunglasses proudly, "I found them on a second-hand website. It is said to be the same style worn by a rapper. It cost a total of fifteen dollars! This is the hard-earned money from my car wash!"
Tommy rubbed his eyes that were still awake and poured cold water on them mercilessly.
"Wearing sunglasses in the house not only makes you look like a blind man, but also like a liar selling inferior insurance. If you buy a piece of plastic for fifteen dollars, your entire IQ may be on your legs."
"What do you know? This is called street culture!"
Reggie took off his sunglasses angrily, "Then what did you buy with the money you earned?"
Tommy slowly took out a brand new handheld game console from his pocket and pressed the power button. Accompanied by a burst of cheerful electronic sound effects, he raised his chin proudly.
"I bought it at a discount. Although it's not the latest model, I can play several classic RPG games. This is the enjoyment that intellectual workers deserve."
Seeing these two people starting to compare with each other early in the morning about what they bought with their first pocket money, Annie and Kevin couldn't stop laughing.
Kevin even used the few dollars he earned to buy Charlie a high-end fish food that can make the fish scales brighter. Now Goldfish is swimming happily in the water tank.
Everything seemed so noisy and full of life.
At this moment, Black Noir walked out quietly from the shadows of the corridor on the first floor.
He did not look at the children who were bickering, but walked straight to the kitchen and stopped next to Lynn.
He took out a black tablet from the pocket of his uniform and handed it to Lynn.
Lynn turned down the heat, wiped his hands, took the tablet and took a look.
On the screen is a surveillance video without sound.
In the pale Basement, several logisticians in chemical protective suits were loading corpses that were burnt black and exuding a pungent smell into black body bags.
Before the blood stains on the ground could be cleaned, shocking dark red traces were left behind.
Lynn's eyes stayed on those small body bags for a few seconds.
Those are the children of New Vanguard Camp.
Now, they are being cleared away like garbage.
In the corner of the screen, Lynn captured the dark purple figure of Stormfront.
The look in Lynn's eyes was very calm, without any waves of anger.
In this world, such cruel things happen every day.
He is not the Chosen One, he cannot save everyone, and he has no interest in saving the experimental subjects in Edgar Basement.
But he knew very well who Edgar was trying to deal with by releasing this old racist monster that had been sleeping for almost a hundred years.
That bloody butcher knife sharpened forty floors underground will one day slash at the door of Long Island Estate.
Lynn raised his head and looked across the kitchen island to the dining room.
Reggie was yelling because Tommy spilled pumpkin porridge on his new sunglasses, and Annie was helping pass out tissues.
John sat quietly in his seat, holding a milk glass in his hand, but his eyes kept secretly falling on the scarf around Lynn's neck.
Buddy is struggling with a difficult bone, making a whining sound.
If that madman Stormfront sees these disobedient monsters in his house, sees Reggie, sees the mutated dog talking nonsense, she will definitely lower those purple lightnings without hesitation.
But Lynn would never let that happen.
As long as he is here, no one can touch every inch of the lawn inside this wrought iron gate.
Lynn casually pressed down the tablet screen and handed the tablet back to Black Noir.
He turned around and picked up a few clean dishes and chopsticks from the counter, interrupting the noise in the restaurant with a gentle voice.
"Put away your sunglasses, Reggie, get ready for breakfast. After dinner, go to Backyard. Today's training will be doubled."