Stormfront was lying in a pool of blood, vomiting out blood foam.
Her purple eyes, which had always been high above the sky, now contained only the purest fear.
She regretted it.
She thought of death too simply.
Or rather.
She thought Homelander was too simple.
To be honest, Stormfront thought that the angry god would give her a good time.
The sneakers hanging above her head blocked the falling snowflakes from the sky, and the lines on the soles became increasingly clear in her dilated pupils.
John didn't look at her again, nor did she feel any sadistic pleasure because of her fear.
He just felt bored and felt that this crazy woman had soiled the snow here.
Just when that foot was about to step down without reservation and crush this crazy woman's head like a watermelon.
"Take your feet back, John, your shoes will be completely destroyed if you step on them. I don't want to go back and wash your shoes that are stained with brains."
An extremely familiar voice, even a little helpless, suddenly penetrated the howling cold wind on the rooftop and came clearly.
John's body froze suddenly.
That foot with terrifying power stopped abruptly less than two centimeters from the tip of Stormfront's nose.
The strong wind pressure even scratched a bloodstain on Stormfront's blood-stained face.
John turned his head slowly.
Two people were standing next to the barbed wire fence on the edge of the rooftop.
Black Noir still has the same silent look that has not changed for thousands of years, and his black uniform is stained with a few unmelted snowflakes.
The man standing in front of Black Noir was wearing a dark black coat, with his hands casually in his pockets.
The gray cashmere scarf was tied neatly around his neck.
The cold wind blew the hem of the scarf slightly up.
No bruises, no blood.
The most important thing is that the familiar warm smell mixed with the faint aroma of coffee and the smell of burning wood in the fireplace is carried in the wind.
That is what John can smell every day, it belongs to Long Island Estate, the smell of home.
John's blue eyes, which were originally as empty as stagnant water, seemed to melt in an instant.
Those violent, bloodthirsty and suffocating coldness completely retreated the second he saw Lynn clearly.
He retracted his foot with some embarrassment.
"Lynn."
John's voice was very low, and he even subconsciously hid his hands stained with Stormfront's blood behind his back, like an ordinary little boy who stained his clothes after fighting outside and was afraid of being scolded by his parents.
Lynn sighed, opened his legs, and walked slowly over through the snow.
He avoided the shocking pool of blood on the ground, walked up to John, and looked the blond boy up and down.
"Didn't I tell you to stay at home? Why did you run out without even wearing a thick coat?"
Lynn stretched out his hand and helped John straighten the rolled-up collar of the gray sweatshirt very naturally.
John lowered his head and let Lynn help him organize his clothes.
He did not explain why he suddenly rushed out, nor did he explain the fear that was driving him crazy when he saw the fake guy's neck being pinched in the sky just now.
He just responded softly.
"I just want to come out and have a look."
Lynn looked at John's appearance, and felt like a mirror.
He knew this little monster so well that he could guess what just happened without John saying anything.
He did not expose John's vulnerability, but looked over John's shoulder and looked at Stormfront who was still twitching on the ground.
Stormfront looks terrible now, with her arms missing and her chest collapsed, but Compound V is hanging on to her life, allowing her to retain a clear consciousness.
When Stormfront saw Lynn standing there alive with the unsightly scarf around her neck, the expression on her face was completely distorted.
Shock, confusion, and then deep despair.
She rolled her stiff eyes and looked at John, who was standing next to Lynn as well-behaved as a sheep. Then she turned her head with difficulty and looked at the body in the snow not far away that looked exactly like Lynn, but had its neck broken.
She has lived for more than a hundred years and is not stupid.
It's just that I was carried away by the enthusiasm and murderous intention before.
Seeing this scene now, she understood everything instantly.
"Fake...Edgar... that old fox lied to me..."
Stormfront had blood bubbles in his mouth and roared incoherently.
She thought she had killed Lynn and liberated the gods.
In the end, she was just a knife in Edgar's hand, or in other words, a clown who was abandoned as bait.
Edgar had no intention of handing over the real Lynn to her. The dead one was just a substitute.
Lynn looked at the corpse with his own face on the ground, his eyes turned cold.
"That is the Transfiguration person from Basement New Vanguard Camp."
Lynn said calmly, "Edgar is really a good plan. I will use a child who has been brainwashed to fool you, and I will lend you your hand to test John's reaction. By the way, I can also get rid of this unstable trouble of yours."
Stormfront stared at Lynn, his eyes full of vicious resentment.
"Don't be proud... as long as you are alive... one day, he will... become a real madman because of you..."
Stormfront cursed while coughing up blood.
Lynn doesn't care about her curse at all.
He didn't even bother to say another word to this crazy woman.
Lynn turned his head and looked at Black Noir who was standing beside him without saying a word.
"Get rid of this puddle of garbage staining the snow."
Lynn's tone was as calm as if he was ordering to take out the trash, "Don't let her die too quickly. Since Edgar likes to recycle waste so much, then send her back alive to the forty floors underground so that the big boss can appreciate his masterpiece."
Black Noir nodded silently, strode forward, and like carrying a dead dog, grabbed Stormfront's back collar with one hand and lifted her up from the pool of blood.
Lynn turned his attention back to John.
He looked at the few blood stains on the blond boy's sweatshirt and frowned slightly.
"Remember to change your clothes when you go back. Reggie If I see you like this, I will drag you and ask you questions."
Lynn said as he turned around and walked towards the edge of the rooftop.
John followed Lynn step by step.
The wind and snow in the sky began to get heavier again.
The two people walked on the snow-covered rooftop one after another, leaving all the blood and conspiracy behind them.
"Lynn." John suddenly called from behind.
"What's wrong?" Lynn didn't look back, just slowed down.
"Reggie just grabbed Tommy's bread. Tommy said he didn't want to eat oatmeal at noon."
John's voice sounded a little muffled in the wind and snow, but it had returned to its usual relaxed tone.
Lynn After listening, I couldn't help laughing.
"Then go back and cook a pot of tomato beef brisket for you, and ask Tommy to get a few bottles of room-temperature Coke."
"Lynn, your choice of drinks is still so anti-human."
"What do you know, you little brat? That's called taste."
"Reggie said you are a niche brother."
"How dare he, an underground rapper, talk to me?"
"So I gave him a good beating... haha."