Benjamin put his hands back into his sweatshirt pocket, took two steps towards the edge of the ditch, looked at Black Noir and said, "Take them here to waste time, and pay attention to the manhole cover above your head. I'll go back Long Island."
Black Noir held a short wooden stick in his hand and knocked Michelangelo's forearm that was raised too high. He turned around and nodded to Benjamin as a response.
Joseph, who was leaning against the soaked brick wall, heard Benjamin's words and with some difficulty raised his head buried in the collar of his coat.
The old man was shivering from the cold wind in the basement, his gray hair was stuck to his forehead, and even his lips had lost their color.
"Go back... to bring in reinforcements?"
Joseph's voice was hoarse. He looked at Benjamin's back as he prepared to leave, and shook his head silently, his eyes full of defeat after seeing the outcome.
"It's useless."
The old man stretched his frozen hands forward, trying to get some warmth under the yellow construction lights. His tone was flat, but there was a sense of death,
"I admit that Mr. Black Noir is indeed one of the best in the world, and you guys are very careful in making arrangements. But you have no idea how far Edgar has made the situation worse this time."
Benjamin stopped, turned his head and glanced at the old man. "What do you mean, we have to wash our necks now and wait?"
"Other than leaving United States completely and hiding in the old woods of Europe or farther away, what we can do now is just delaying it for two more days."
Joseph gave a bitter smile, and the dirty water on his coat fell drop by drop onto Red Brick Ground with his breathing.
"The tens of billions of military industry orders are being pushed back by an entire national war machine. The medicines in their hands can turn thousands of ordinary people into invulnerable monsters. They also have the help of those completely shameless old Auror in our ministry who are responsible for tracking the coordinates in secret.
... I can't think of anyone else in this land who can clean up the chicken feathers in front of me, who can save this place."
In Joseph's life experience for most of his life, the power of an individual or a small group is as fragile as a wet tissue in front of the modern meat grinder that is running. It will break if you poke it.
Benjamin After listening, not only did he not lose his temper, but he took out his right hand from his pocket and touched the prickly stubble on his chin.
He looked at old Wizards paralyzed in the mud, and suddenly twitched the corner of his mouth, revealing an extremely dazzling smile.
There was a bit of ridicule in that smile, but more of it was a kind of pride that could not be hidden in one's bones, and one's waist was as high as ever.
"Who's going to clean up this place?"
Benjamin slowly walked up to Joseph and looked at him condescendingly:
"My son."
Joseph was stunned.
The old man's hand, which was still in the air asking for warmth, froze in place, his face full of confusion.
He looked Benjamin up and down.
This man was wearing a tattered sweatshirt and smelled of sour cigarettes. He looked like an old gangster who had just gotten out of a street fight and had to plan carefully for dinner.
His son?
In this world, what kind of son can sweep away the partnership deal between thousands of super soldiers Edgar and Pentagon like a feather?
"Who are you... and who is your son?" Joseph asked in confusion.
Benjamin leaned back heavily, and even raised his tone of confidence by three points.
Although that blond little brat from Pure-blood ignored him all day long and only recognized Lynn as the cook. He even punched him in the face a few times on Cross-sea Bridge a while ago, but this did not prevent him from taking the pomp and dignity of an old father to the highest level in front of the idiots outside.
"I'm afraid I'll deafen your old ears if I tell you."
Benjamin snorted coldly and spit out three words one by one:
"Homelander."
As soon as these three words fell on the ditch, the wind in the sewer seemed to freeze suddenly.
At first, he didn't take it seriously. He just thought he was a bragging old drunkard Joseph. His whole figure seemed to have been hit by high-voltage electricity. His hand holding on to the wall softened and he leaned back half a foot on the muddy ground. The back of his head hit the red brick wall with a loud bang.
"Ancestor...Homelander?"
The old man's eyes instantly became the roundest they had ever been, and even the teeth in his mouth began to chatter uncontrollably.
In the big world of ordinary people outside, the two words Homelander are printed on the front pages of newspapers, hung on huge posters in shopping malls, and are the invincible idols. They are the golden the Chosen One that thousands of people cheer and applaud in front of the TV every day.
But in this Wizarding World circle, which values bloodline and inheritance more than life, these three words represent completely opposite meanings.
That was like thunder piercing the ears, and it was even more terrifying and heretical!
For this kind of heresy who possesses absolute violence and makes no sense at all, North American Wizarding World has only one attitude towards him:
The hostility and fear that go deep into the bones.
Just like the Onmyōji family of Japan had a very different attitude towards artificial Supes.
However, some Wizards who are in high positions and some who are fanatical do not take artificial Supes seriously, even the strongest Supe Homelander.
They self-righteously believe that no matter how strong Homelander is, it is only limited to the physical level.
If a Avada Kedavra Curse goes down, you still have to walk on the board obediently.
Didn't even bother to dig deeper.
Fortunately, Joseph is not included in this list.
Joseph took a deep breath. "You said that monster... is your son?"
"Ignorant bumpkin."
Benjamin is extremely pleased with the old man's frightened look. He proudly puts his sweatshirt and hat on his head.
"No matter how good he is at flying and his eyes are glowing red, I'm still bleeding from him. Do you think the bunch of green-skinned bastards Edgar has saved down there can turn the world upside down? In Lynn's house, they don't even have the qualifications to step in Backyard and step on Lawn."
After saying that, Benjamin was completely too lazy to look at Joseph, who had completely fallen into a big collision in life.
He strode forward, stepping on the dirty puddles in the sewer, and walked towards the iron escalator frame at the other end that led to the street.
He had to rush back before six o'clock for dinner. Lynn said that he would re-order the Iron Gate in the yard starting tomorrow. If he ran faster now and went back to chop all the remaining thick and hard wood of Backyard before dinner, he might be able to grab two more large barbecue steaks from that Big Golden Retriever's mouth tonight.
On the brick platform, only a few were still waving wooden blades. They didn't know which neighbor's uncle's green Little Turtles Homelander was. Under the gaze of Black Noir, they shouted huffing chants and slashed the knife into the open space one after another.