Homelander's arrival instantly silenced the foul, smoke-filled basement.
The card players unconsciously dropped their cards, and the smokers failed to notice even when their cigarettes burned down to their fingers. Not a single person dared breathe loudly.
They had always thought the superheroes on television were far removed from them, so they had never imagined a scene like this. Only when it actually happened did they realize just how oppressive the man before them was.
So oppressive that a simple sentence reached their ears like a whisper from the Grim Reaper.
Luther stared fixedly at Homelander's face, cold sweat continually seeping from his forehead as his mind raced.
Run or fight? Neither was possible!
He had attended high school for two years, making him one of the most educated people in the Gray River Gang. At least he had some understanding of Homelander's abilities.
Precisely because of that, unlike Raymond, that idiot who believed he possessed "Homelander's strength," he understood just how vast the gulf between himself and Homelander was.
So... talking was the only option.
Luther took a deep breath, struggling to keep his voice steady. "Sir, we're just ordinary gang members from Middleton. The worst thing we've ever done is robbery. Why have you come here?"
As he spoke, he glanced at the empty Compound V bottles on the floor, clinging to a sliver of hope as he gambled that Homelander did not know the secret of this miracle drug!
"If you want to know about some of the recent riots in Middleton, we can help you investigate and provide information."
"Of course, we all admire you. We won't hold you responsible for trespassing."
Luther spoke extremely quickly, glossing over the serious matters and even turning the tables at the end.
Little did he know that his racing