Becca's voice echoed in the hall.
At the same time, Godolkin University is deep underground.
Neuman's face was extremely gloomy.
Godolkin opened his eyes, his face now covered with a layer of frost.
He tilted his head and looked heavily at Neuman.
"I'll leave the finishing touches to you."
Godolkin's voice was not loud, but there was a suffocating sense of oppression.
"I really didn't expect you to be able to handle things with such virtue. I don't want my plan to be ruined because of your stupid mistakes."
Neuman swallowed a mouthful of saliva, and a thin layer of sweat broke out on his forehead.
She nodded casually and whispered back, "I'll find a way to remedy it right away."
The screen switches back to the Vought Tower lobby.
The reporters in the audience were already in a frenzy.
A Becca who is still alive is the most powerful evidence against those conspiracy theories on the Internet.
At this moment, a reporter wearing black-rimmed glasses suddenly stood up sweating profusely, pointed at Becca on the stage and shouted.
"Don't believe it! I have enough reasons to suspect that this woman is fake! The real Becca was clearly assassinated by a killer in the hospital three days ago!"
The voice howled out, and the noisy hall fell silent for an instant.
Hundreds of pairs of eyes looked at the male reporter.
John stood in front of the microphone, stunned for a moment, then raised the corners of his mouth a little, revealing a playful smile.
"How do you know Becca was assassinated?"
The male reporter did not react for a moment.
John held the podium with both hands and tilted his head:
"You see, according to the Internet, the man who set himself on fire came to seek justice for his dead fiancée. In other words, in public perception, Becca died in a gang fight long ago."
John paused slightly to let everyone follow his train of thought.
"Then the question is, why would someone go to the hospital to assassinate a person who has died on the Internet? Moreover, even Public Relations Department from Vought has not received any news about this matter. How did you, a reporter from a local newspaper, know that there was a killer in the hospital three days ago?"
As soon as these words came out, the faces of the reporters around him changed.
Although they risk their lives for traffic, they are not stupid.
Yes, why does he know!?
They have always made a living by competing for first-hand information. They have never heard of this matter. And if you have such crucial and exclusive information, can you still stand here?
This can only prove one thing: there is something wrong with the reporter himself.
He was definitely working with the mastermind behind the scenes, or he was paid to come to the scene to disrupt the situation.
The colleagues around him dispersed with a crash as if they were hiding from the god of plague, leaving the man with black-rimmed glasses alone in the middle.
The male reporter's face instantly turned pale, and his legs began to sway.
He knew that he had spilled the beans in desperation, so he could only bite the bullet and fight to the death.
"Don't change the subject! Don't worry about how I know!"
He frowned and shouted, "You are just using a fake woman to trick us and want to muddy the waters!"
John heard this, pursed his lips indifferently, raised his hand and snapped his fingers.
The passage door behind him was pushed open again.
Several security personnel dragged three men out.
The hands and feet of these three people showed an unnatural twisting angle, obviously they were interrupted abruptly.
There was blood dripping from their mouths, and the back molars were bloody and bloody. Apparently, their teeth had been forcibly extracted to prevent them from committing suicide by taking poison.
The three of them were thrown on the floor like broken sacks. Their faces were ashen and they didn't even have the strength to groan.
But when their peripheral vision caught sight of Black Noir standing in the shadows, these three professionally trained killers started to tremble violently.
The reporter with black-rimmed glasses in the audience saw these three bloody men, his legs went weak, and he slumped down on the chair, his face turned ashen.
On the other side of the screen, Neuman saw the killer he hired turning into this ghostly look, with a pale face.
The hall was so quiet that you could hear a pin drop.
John looked at the reporters holding their breaths in the audience and spoke in a leisurely tone.
"She is Becca herself. It is guaranteed to be true."
"Three days ago, the man set himself on fire in the square. I was at the scene of the farce and immediately realized who he was pretending to be. I don't know the person who set himself on fire, but I remember Becca. She was an employee of Vought. Becca was held in the arms of her fiancé at the scene that day, so I naturally paid attention."
John spread his hands, looking magnanimous.
"My first reaction at that time was to fly directly to the hospital and bring Becca over for everyone to see and expose all the rumors."
"But I changed my mind."
John smiled and said, "Since someone has taken so much trouble to throw dirty water on me, I have to dig out the rats hiding in the sewer, so I asked Black Noir to go to the hospital and secretly guard outside the ward."
John walked up to the three crippled killers and touched one of them on the shoulder with his toe.
"Sure enough, they are here."
"These three friends are very professional and tough-tongued, but Mr. Black Noir's interrogation methods can always make people open up."
John walked back to the microphone, his blue eyes staring straight at the Video Camera lens in front of him, as if his sight had penetrated the screen.
"So, you don't have to guess anymore."
John said with a sneer,
"After some friendly exchanges, we now know clearly who is behind the scenes."
At this time, all the reporters had their ears pricked up, for fear of missing even a word.
"Tell your friends here."
John's voice was not loud, but it could penetrate everyone's ears clearly, "Who hired you to go to the hospital to kill people? Say it yourself."
The three killers were lying on the floor tiles, shaking like chaff.
They opened their toothless mouths, bloody saliva dripped down, and their eyes were full of fear.
Looking at John's confident appearance on the screen, Neuman was breathing rapidly, his chest was heaving violently, and the clothes on his back were soaked with cold sweat.
Neuman pressed the communicator hidden in his collar and opened his mouth to give the final command.
She wanted all the remaining hidden stakes on the scene to draw their guns desperately. Even if they all died there, they would turn the venue into a mess.
As long as there is blood and chaos breaks out, Homelander will not be able to escape unscathed today.
This is the only way she can think of to break the situation now.
However, a greasy, fat hand suddenly reached out and pressed on her shoulder.
Neuman was stunned and turned around suddenly.
It's Mesmer.
There was no trace of panic on his face at this moment.
"Don't waste your efforts."
"What do you mean?"
Neuman gritted his teeth and stared at him.
"Use your brain."
Mesmer sighed, pointed at the TV screen and said,
"Since John dares to let these three useless people identify the mastermind in front of these reporters, it means that he already knows the answer in his heart. Even if you blow up the venue now, it is too late."
Mesmer pulled out a paper towel and slowly wiped the seasoning powder on his hands.
"And guess what happens once you do that?"
Neuman said nothing, but his face became increasingly ugly.
"Let me think about it for you."
Mesmer leaned on the back of the sofa and said with a smile, "Homelander will fly here as fast as possible after the press conference. He will crush all the bones in your body one by one, and then use his Heat Vision to give you a full-body killing. That taste, tsk tsk, you definitely don't want to experience it."
Listening to this ridicule, Neuman's face turned from livid to pale.
Seeing Neuman's appearance, the smile on Mesmer's face became even stronger.
He slowly stood up and walked to the screen.
"But you don't have to be so afraid."
Mesmer stretched out his stubby finger, tapped the three killers lying on the ground on the TV screen, and turned to look at Neuman.
"You can always trust my abilities."
Neuman was stunned for a moment.
"Black Noir Peel off all their skins, and they won't be able to utter a single useful word, because there is no memory of us in their minds."
Marge stood by the door, looking at the smiling fat man in front of him, and felt a chill in his heart for no reason.