Ma'am, You're Safe

Over the past two years, he had taught John many things: history, philosophy, literature.

But the boy seemed to have a set of extremely stubborn underlying code in his head. No matter how profound the theory, he always managed to circle back to the endless loop of "how to maintain order to ensure Lynn's safety."

Just then, the apartment's intercom rang.

"Director Lynn, Studio One is ready. The public relations staff are waiting for you."

Madelyn's voice came through.

"Understood. We'll be there in ten minutes."

Lynn switched off the intercom and looked at John. "All right, little champ, go put on your 'rules.' Today's your first time getting serious in front of the camera."

John scrambled nimbly up from the carpet and ran into the bedroom.

Ten minutes later, the two arrived at Studio One on the first basement level.

The set had been dressed as the interior of a bank on a New York street, with extraordinary realism.

All kinds of lighting equipment and camera tracks had already been set up.

Legend, Vought International's Vice President of publishing and public relations, was loudly directing the crew around the set with a cigar between his teeth.

Seeing Lynn enter with John in his Homelander suit, Legend immediately stubbed out his cigar and approached them with a fawning smile.

"Oh! Look at our little Chosen One! No matter how many times I see that suit, it always gets my blood pumping!"

Legend offered his exaggerated praise, then lowered his voice to speak to Lynn. "Director Lynn, today's shoot is extremely important. This internal promotional film will be sent to the Pentagon and Capitol Hill to demonstrate the 'controllability' and 'combat potential' of our latest generation of super assets."

"Are all the extras in place?" Lynn glanced toward the center of the set.

"Of course. For realism, we specifically brought in a few military veterans from the Security Department to play the hostages. As for the robber..." Legend beckoned.

A lean man with a somewhat sinister gaze walked over.

"This is Bungee Cord, a second-string hero with an internal company rating of C. His ability lets his body stretch like rubber, and he's extremely resistant to physical blows."

"He's perfect for playing the villain," Legend explained. "No need to worry about our little lord here killing him with one punch."

Bungee Cord glanced at John and curled his lip, clearly very unhappy about serving as a sparring partner for an eight-year-old.

"Sir, the script says this kid's going to fly over and grind me into the floor. Let me make this clear up front: my rubber body still feels pain. If this kid doesn't know his own strength, who's responsible for my workplace injury?" Bungee Cord complained.

Before Lynn could speak, John had already stepped forward.

He tilted his head up and looked at Bungee Cord with those azure eyes, a bright, sunny smile slowly curving his lips.

"Sir, please don't worry. Lynn taught me that making a movie is a game, and the harm in a game is all pretend. I'll control my strength precisely and make sure I only look intimidating. I won't break a single bone in your body."

John's voice was clear and polite. Paired with that innocent smile, it made Bungee Cord pause.

"Uh... okay. You're a kid who knows the rules, at least," Bungee Cord muttered before turning away to get ready.

Watching John's retreating back, Lynn felt the corner of his eye twitch slightly.

He didn't know why, but whenever he saw John give that flawless, picture-perfect smile now, he felt a little unnerved.

The boy's emotional control had reached a point where even Lynn could no longer tell what he was thinking.

"Everyone in position! Live-action rehearsal, scene one! Ready! Action!"

At the director's shout, the set fell silent.

An alarm sounded inside the mock bank.

Wearing a black hood and holding an unloaded prop gun, Bungee Cord roughly locked his arm around a female extra's neck and loudly delivered his lines. "Nobody move! If anyone calls the cops, I'll kill her!"

The female extra let out a terrified scream with complete professionalism.

At that moment, no wire rig descended from above the studio.

Boom!

With a faint sonic boom, John's feet left the ground. Without any external assistance, he slowly descended through the air like a god defying the laws of gravity.

His dark blue suit gleamed under the lights, and his Stars and Stripes cape fluttered in the breeze behind him.

He hovered half a meter above the floor, hands on his hips, wearing that signature smile of compassion and authority.

For an instant, every crew member on set stared, dumbstruck.

Even though they knew it was an act, the innate pressure emanating from a higher life-form still left them feeling suffocated.

"Let that lady go. Your evil ends here."

John's clear voice echoed through the bank, every word of his lines precisely enunciated and filled with emotion.

According to the script, Bungee Cord was supposed to fire in terror at this point, then be easily subdued by John.

But as Bungee Cord looked at the boy in midair, who seemed to glow, an inexplicable surge of irritation and jealousy rose inside him.

He was a superhero who had struggled at the bottom for years. Why should some little brat who hadn't even hit puberty get this kind of treatment the moment he made his debut?

To give himself a little more screen time, and to test this supposed "ultimate weapon," Bungee Cord changed the script without permission.

Instead of releasing the female extra, his wrist writhed strangely, and his entire arm instantly stretched more than ten meters like rubber, swinging the prop gun viciously at John's face.

"Watch out!" the director shouted in fright.

This wasn't in the script!

Standing behind the monitor, Lynn's brow abruptly tightened.

Faced with the sudden attack, the smile on John's face didn't falter for even half a second.

He merely tilted his head slightly, and the prop gun flew past, brushing his blond hair.

Then John vanished from midair in an instant.

Bang!

Bungee Cord saw a blur, then felt as though a charging bull had slammed into his chest. He flew backward uncontrollably and crashed heavily into the bank's prop counter.

The female extra screamed as she fell to the floor, but a pair of gentle little hands immediately helped her up.

"Ma'am, you're safe."

John gave the female extra a smile that could melt ice and snow, even considerately dusting off her clothes.

Then John turned and slowly walked toward Bungee Cord, who lay amid the splintered wood.

His steps were slow, and with each one, the smile on his face grew brighter.

Bungee Cord climbed to his feet, clutching his faintly aching chest.

He realized that John had controlled the force of that collision with extraordinary precision: just enough to send him flying, yet just short of exceeding what his rubber body could withstand.

"Tch, so that's all you've got. I thought you'd be something special."