The morning light finally tore apart the night of Manhattan little by little.
Frenchie zipped the jacket to the top, put his hands in his pockets, and walked forward in the weak sunshine.
His face was as pale as paper, and there were dark circles around his eyes.
Drug addiction made his steps seem a little frivolous, but under that decadent skin, his brain was extremely clear at the moment.
After turning two blocks, the square in front of Vought Tower came into view.
Although it is early in the morning, the place has not returned to peace as night falls.
The square was densely packed with people.
Many people stayed here all night with sleeping bags and cardboard, and the ground was littered with crushed cans, packaging boxes and placards filled with expletives.
Some marchers who woke up early were holding hot coffee, gathering in twos and threes, pointing in the direction of the building.
A long yellow warning tape has been set up around the building, and a circle of heavy metal anti-riot iron horses has been reinforced outside.
Riot police officers from the New York police station and several security personnel wearing Vought uniforms stood inside, all with tense expressions and bloodshot eyes staring at the movement outside, for fear that the red-eyed protesters would rush in without mercy.
Frenchie avoided crowded places and quietly approached the edge of the cordon.
Less than half a meter apart, two burly Supe security guards stood inside.
The two of them had obviously been standing all night, their spirits were a little distracted, and they were whispering to each other in lowered voices.
"I'm just confused."
The one on the left touched his sore neck and complained softly,
"Homelander Chief is obviously so powerful. He can burn down half the city block with his eyes. Why do you let these idiots make trouble here? Why don't you just go out and kill all the leaders?"
"That's right." The one on the right echoed, his tone full of irritation, "Kill them all, and those keyboard warriors outside will naturally be honest. Who dares to block our door."
While the two were talking, a hoarse voice suddenly came from outside.
"How to kill? Kill them all?"
The sound was not loud, but it fell clearly into the ears of the two security guards.
The two of them were shocked and turned their heads suddenly, their hands already pressed on Pistol at their waists.
Frenchie ignored their vigilance and continued talking on his own.
"Killing these thousands of ordinary people can indeed suppress the matter temporarily and prevent them from making trouble."
Frenchie tapped the railing with his fingers and spoke slowly,
"But how long can it last? One day or two days? The forces hiding behind the scenes and using the All-America people as their guns are waiting for you to take action. As long as you start killing, they will use all their resources to incite more people."
The two security guards were stunned, staring blankly at this man who looked like a homeless man.
"What will we do then? Everyone in All-America rises up to resist, and you kill them all too?"
Frenchie smiled mockingly, "If we get to that point, do you think the rest of the world will just sit back and watch? Faced with a superpower that has completely lost control and started massacring civilians, the only thing those politicians sitting at the conference table will do is to empty the nuclear bombs in their silos."
A gust of cold wind blew by, causing the two security guards to break out in a cold sweat.
They originally just complained casually, but the poisonous man in front of them raised the matter to the level of a world war in just a few words, making it impossible to refute.
"You..."
The security guard on the left swallowed and looked Frenchie up and down, "You know a lot, aren't you here for the parade?"
"No." Frenchie shook his head.
"Then what are you doing here?"
Frenchie raised his head, looked over the security guard's shoulder, and looked at the towering building.
"I'm here to see Homelander."
"Looking for sir?"
The security guard on the right seemed to have heard some joke, and his vigilance rose again, "What are you looking for him for? To protest or to die?"
Frenchie was silent for two seconds.
"I feel that a good person should not be treated like this."
Frenchie looked into the security guard's eyes and answered seriously.
This simple sentence seemed out of place in the noisy square.
The two security guards looked at each other, not knowing how to deal with this strange guy for a moment.
According to regulations, no idlers are allowed to approach the building.
"You wait."
The security guard on the left held down the headset and bravely accessed the internal communication channel.
Public Relations Department.
Ashley is standing in front of a messy desk, holding a cup of cold black coffee in his hand.
She had a handful of hair between her fingers, her eyes were red, and she was frantically updating the trend of public opinion on the Internet.
"What did you say?"
Ashley growled into the communicator, "A guy who looks like a rotten poisonous ghost wants to see the chief? Do you believe whatever he says?"
Just then, the office door opened.
John walked in expressionlessly.
Ashley looked at the sudden appearance of Homelander, his hands trembled with fright, and he almost spilled coffee on his body.
She quickly put on a smile and was about to explain that she didn't lose her temper just now.
"Let him come in." John didn't look back.
"Ah?" Ashley was stunned, and his mind couldn't turn around.
"The man downstairs wants to see me."
John turned around and glanced at Ashley with his blue eyes, "Let him in."
Ashley was shocked and immediately changed his words to the communicator. "Did you hear that? Bring people in immediately! Take the staff passage through the side door and don't attract the attention of the crazy people outside!"
Edge of the square.
The security guard released his hand holding the headset and looked at Frenchie with a completely changed look.
He winked at his companion.
The two quietly moved away and slightly widened the gap between the two iron horses.
"Hurry up." The security guard urged in a low voice.
Frenchie didn't hesitate, and ducked into the cordon along the gap.
The marchers outside were still chanting slogans with loudspeakers, and no one noticed that the dusty man had passed through the defense line.