a few hours ago.
New York, Brooklyn area.
In a narrow alley, there was a van parked.
The back door of the carriage was locked tightly, and several whimpers and banging sounds could be heard from inside.
Frenchie leaned against the car door, wiping the blood on his body.
He never follows any rules when doing things.
Since those three high school students with broken legs dared to post videos on the Internet and find out their addresses along the network cable, it would be as easy as drinking water for a hacker like Frenchie.
As for kidnapping?
There was no psychological burden at all when he broke into the house of those three little bastards and kidnapped them.
Now, the three "victims" who were crying in the video are trembling in the back seat of the van with their mouths sealed with tape.
Frenchie turned around and walked out of the alley.
Kidnapping someone is only the first step.
He has bad cards in his hand now, and relying on these three bullies alone is not enough.
People would say this is a result of surrender.
He needs a perfect witness who is clean and has no Vought background, and can be believed by all ordinary people at a glance.
Frenchie raised his head and looked at the apartment building with shabby walls in front of him.
This is the ultimate purpose of his trip.
The victim who was bullied by three bullies in an alley and was finally saved by Homelander, Clark.
Stopping in front of the door, Frenchie took a deep breath and subconsciously rubbed his stiff cheeks with both hands.
To be honest, he felt very uneasy.
For an ordinary high school student to stand up and testify for Homelander despite the public's anger is no different from pushing a lamb into a pack of wolves.
It would be great if Homelander really managed to overcome this difficulty.
Once it fails, the consequences for the boy will be disastrous.
Frenchie gritted his teeth.
Boom, boom, boom.
After a while.
The door was opened a crack.
Clark's mother stood behind the door, looking outside warily.
The first thing she saw was Frenchie's pale and thin face with deeply sunken eye sockets.
This look made her expression change instantly.
She had no intention of asking who Frenchie was, so she used both hands to close the door.
Bang!
There was a muffled sound.
The door is not closed tightly.
It was Frenchie who stuffed his left hand into the crack of the door the moment it was about to close.
The wooden door was firmly clamped on the back of his hand.
The pain made Frenchie take a deep breath.
But he didn't pull his hand back. Instead, he pressed his shoulder against the door frame.
"Madam! Please wait a moment!"
Frenchie endured the pain and said quickly in the most sincere tone, "Give me one minute, just one minute! I'm not a bad person, I'm not here to cause trouble!"
His mother was shocked by his desperate actions.
She was pressing against the door, her eyes full of defense and panic.
"What do you want to do? Just say it here! Otherwise I'll call the police right away!"
Frenchie nodded, not caring that his hand was still caught in the crack of the door, and spoke quickly to get to the point.
"I'm here about Homelander."
Frenchie looked directly into the mother's eyes,
"I know what happened in the alley a few days ago. Your son Clark is the real victim. Those three people who posted the video online are lying bullies. I beg you, let Clark go to the press conference to testify. As long as he comes forward, he can save a good man who has saved countless people."
Upon hearing the three words "Homelander", my mother's face turned pale.
"Please leave immediately!"
She pushed the door with all her strength, trying to completely block out this trouble.
"Mom, wait a minute."
Mother froze as she pushed the door open.
Clark walked to the entrance.
He looked at his mother's panicked face, and then looked at Frenchie who was covered in cold sweat outside the crack of the door.
The boy took a deep breath.
"Mom, please let him in."
Clark looked at his mother, his voice was not loud, but full of stubbornness,
"I want to talk to him alone."
The mother looked at her son's stubborn eyes and finally relaxed her hold on the wooden door.
Frenchie squeezed into this narrow apartment through the crack in the door.
Clark pointed to the sofa.
"Sit down."
The boy's voice was a little dry.
Frenchie is not sitting.
He was afraid that his muddy and oily clothes would stain other people's clean mats.
He leaned against the dining table next to him and took out a flattened cigarette from his pocket. Just as he was about to light it, he looked at his mother next to him and silently stuffed it back into his pocket.
"You just said you wanted me to testify."
Clark lowered his head, with a strong sense of powerlessness in his voice.
"But now all the voices on the Internet are criticizing him. Even if I stand up, they will say that I am a lackey who was bribed by Vought."
My mother was standing not far away, her eyes red.
She didn't interrupt, but her eyes were full of pleading.
She didn't want her son to take this risk.
Frenchie looked at the mother and son and suddenly smiled.
"You're right. I don't intend for you to argue with tens of millions of people with empty words. That's what a fool would do."
He took out his mobile phone, clicked on the screen a few times, and handed it to Clark.
"Look at this."
On the screen was a surveillance video picture, located at the dead end that he was all too familiar with.
In the video, the three high school students who had broken his legs were forcing him into a corner, punching and kicking him.
Immediately afterwards, two red lights fell from the sky and broke the legs of the three bullies.
Clark was stunned.
He secretly searched for this piece of surveillance, but the administrator said that the camera in the alley had broken down a long time ago.
"As long as there is something connected to the Internet in this world, there is nothing I can't find."
Frenchie shrugged:
"Of course, it's not enough to have the video. Those three bastards swore that you were joking. People will also think that the video can be faked."
Frenchie stood up straight, walked to the window, and pointed at the van in the alley downstairs.
"So I invited them over."
Clark looked along Frenchie's finger.
"Those three boys are tied to the back of the car now."
Clark's eyes slowly opened wide.
He looked at Frenchie's thin face, and his heartbeat began to accelerate.
"I'm a bad person."
Frenchie spread his hands, "I suck, fight, and do the dirty work. If it were normal, if a high-ranking hero like Homelander fell into a puddle, I would definitely stand by and applaud and watch the joke."
He stopped smiling and his eyes became deeper.
"But he gave me a second chance at life."
Frenchie looked into the boy's eyes,
"He also saved your life. Now the guy who saved our lives was plotted by a group of rats hiding in the gutter, and is being pointed at and scolded by the whole world. He could actually just ignore everything and fly directly into the sky to burn everyone to death, but he didn't."
Frenchie took a step forward and patted Clark on the shoulder.
"He's a good man and he doesn't deserve to be treated like this."
The apartment is very quiet.
The mother covered her mouth and tears flowed down silently.
She knew that when the man took out the video and said those words, she could no longer stop her son.
Clark held the phone in his hand tightly, with tears in his eyes.
The image of myself in despair that day in the alley flashed through my mind, and the confusing faces of the three bullies flashed through my mind.
He raised his head and looked at the Homelander figure with peeling paint on the desk.