Edgar dragged the two children and swam hard toward a huge soundproof panel that was blown up from the plane not far away.
After finally climbing up the floating wreckage, Marge's whole body collapsed on it like a puddle of mud.
When the December sea breeze blew, her whole body began to tremble uncontrollably, her lips turned purple from the cold, and her teeth chattered up and down, making a rattling sound.
"Mr. President... I..."
Marge raised her head, her eyes full of unprecedented fear and confusion. She looked at her thin arms, which were red from the cold and could not even see any muscle lines.
"My power... is gone."
Edgar was twisting the sea water at the hem of his suit. When he heard these words, his movements paused slightly.
He lowered his head and looked at Marge with deep eyes.
With the previous Marge, even if it was hit by high-voltage electricity or run over by a heavy truck, it would not leave any marks on the skin.
But now, she had only soaked in the ice water for a few minutes, and her skin was already pale and wrinkled from the cold. The back of her hand, which had been scratched by debris under the water just now, was still oozing with bright red blood.
The healing ability disappeared, the super power disappeared, and Compound V, which represented Vought International's highest technological crystallization, was completely evaporated in Marge's body.
Edgar did not show unnecessary sympathy, nor did he feel angry because of the loss of a powerful weapon.
He just pushed up the gold-rimmed glasses still stained with water drops on the bridge of his nose, his eyes were deep.
Soldier Boy's uncontrolled mutation, Chest Blast, can actually turn Supe into an ordinary person.
This is definitely a trump card more terrifying than any super weapon.
If we can find a way to extract this ability, then Vought International can firmly control all Supe in the world.
Those who are disobedient will be directly deprived of their abilities and returned to their original form.
"Don't be afraid."
Edgar reached out and patted Marge's thin and trembling shoulder. His tone was surprisingly gentle, "Vought International will cure you. Now, we have to find a way to get ashore first."
And on the tarmac not far from the bay.
The expensive luxury airliner had completely disappeared, leaving only a huge charred pit with its edges burned red.
The surrounding asphalt road had melted due to the terrifying high temperature just now, and pungent asphalt bubbles still bubbled up when you stepped on it.
A sound of heavy footsteps came from the center of the charred pit.
Soldier Boy slowly walked out.
The thick military coat had been burned to ashes, not even an inch of his body was covered with wounds, and the disgusting scars that were already crisscrossing became even more hideous under the high temperature.
But it was as if he couldn't feel any pain, and not even a hair on his head was singed.
He moved his somewhat stiff neck and made a clicking sound of bones rubbing together.
Those bloodshot eyes didn't care whether Edgar fell into the sea dead or alive.
He turned his head, looked past the barbed wire fence outside the tarmac, and stared in the direction of New York Long Island.
In that direction, there was a traitor he had hated for ten years, and a cheap son who was raised as a softie by ordinary people.
Soldier Boy picked up a piece of rag from the ground that was blown up from nowhere, tied it around his waist randomly, then spread out his thick legs, like a wild beast out of its cage, striding towards the direction of Long Island, filled with violence and the smell of gunpowder smoke.
At this time, Long Island Estate still looks peaceful and peaceful.
The afternoon sun shone lazily on the thick wool carpet in the living room.
Reggie and Tommy were lying in front of the TV, arguing over who should Super Mario take the hidden route.
Kevin sat aside, holding a bag of potato chips in his hand, feeding Goldfish Charlie crushed biscuit crumbs while eating.
Annie finished combing Buddy's hair and was dozing off on the sofa.
Everything seemed so relaxed and there was no sense of tension about an impending crisis.
In the kitchen, Lynn was taking a plate of freshly baked apple pie out of the oven, and the rich aroma of cinnamon and apple instantly filled the entire first floor.
John is sitting at the dining table, holding a picture album in his hand, looking at it quietly, raising his head from time to time, and showing a clean smile to Lynn in the kitchen.
In the corner of the studio, Black Noir is still dressed in silence.
He was standing in front of his easel today, holding a thin palette knife in his hand, and was painting a peaceful snow scene on the canvas.
His hand is very steady, and every stroke of his pen is very precise. The cabins and woods in the frame have been outlined vividly.
On the wooden table next to the easel, there is a black tablet computer that was brought back from Vought International.
Buzz.
The tablet screen lit up without warning and made a slight vibration.
Black Noir did not stop painting immediately, but glanced at the screen with the corner of his eye.
It was an anonymous text message without a sender number, with only a short line of black text on a white background.
"Soldier Boy is back."
Black Noir's movements froze.
The palette knife stained with white paint hung in the air and never fell again.
Bada.
A drop of paint slipped from the tip of the knife and fell on the clean wooden floor with a soft sound.
Black Noir is wearing a mask, so his expression cannot be seen.
But if you look carefully, you will find that this top killer, who is usually as stable as a rock when facing monsters, is trembling very obviously with the fingers holding the palette knife.
It was a physiological fear that was deeply rooted in my bones.
The oppressive feeling belonging to that tyrant was like a sharp knife, instantly cutting open the nightmare that he had forcibly sealed.
The devil who once pushed him to the ground and beat him, and commanded him like a dog, really crawled out of hell.
Lynn walked out of the kitchen carrying the apple pie. He was just about to invite the children to come over for snacks, but his eyes fell sharply on Black Noir.
He instantly realized something was wrong with Black Noir.
This silent big man is usually like a piece of furniture in the Manor, quiet and at ease.
But now Black Noir looks like a bow stretched to its limit and ready to break at any time.
Black Noir slowly put down the palette knife in his hand.
He did not look at the tablet with the screen dimmed, but turned around and walked towards the coat rack at the door without saying a word.
From his tactical backpack, he slowly pulled out the black Military Dagger that he usually used to peel potatoes, and held it in his backhand.
Then, he turned his head and looked quietly at the sky outside the floor-to-ceiling window through the goggles of his mask.