The Longest Movie (live)
(Listen to the 2007 World Tour version)
(Although it's in Chinese, the emotions are the same.)
Kansas in late autumn, October.
The evening breeze swept across the wheat fields covering the hillsides, and the heavy ears of wheat undulated like a golden sea.
The air was filled with the scent of dried grass, mixed with the earthy smell of tilling, and a faint whiff of diesel fuel.
On the edge of Smallville, in front of a red-roofed wooden house.
The setting sun bathed the entire farm in a warm orange-red hue.
" John! Wash your hands right now! The pie's fresh out of the oven, or Old Joe's going to sneak a bite!"
Martha, wearing a checkered apron, strode out of the porch, a steaming Apple tucked into her gloves.
The steam rose with a sizzling sound.
The golden, glossy pastry is still fragrant with the aroma of cinnamon mixed with syrup.
Martha's slightly graying hair was curled up a bit by the smell of cooking, but her eyes were full of smile lines.
A pair of clear eyes, pure and innocent, filled with doting affection and undisguised love.
" Martha, you're talking badly about me to John again..."
Next to the barn, Jonathan, wearing denim overalls, casually tossed a wrench into a tin toolbox.
Then he turned around, wiped his large hand on his coarse cloth trousers, and patted him heavily on the shoulder.
"Come on, son... today is your eighteenth birthday."
Then Old Joe opened the wooden door to the old warehouse.
Inside was a Ford that was spotlessly clean, but the paint was a bit faded.
"Here..."
Old Joe first twirled the key on his index finger, then pressed the heavy brass key into his palm.
Happy coming-of-age ceremony, my son.
Beside the table, there was a neatly folded dark brown suit.
He picked it up and examined it carefully.
The shoulder pads are a bit wide, the fabric feels rough and prickly to the touch, and it's a bit too big for me.
He paused for a moment, then smiled.
The scene changes.
Old Joe sat solemnly in front of him.
The world is not ready to welcome your presence.
No matter what happens in the future.
You are all my sons.
Those scorching lights and shadows gently washed over the collapsing consciousness of the Homelander.
His pupils, which had long been empty and cloudy, were now trembling violently.
In the remaining depths of vision, endless waves of wheat, hot soup, engine oil and tobacco, rough, calloused hands...
So warm...
He grew up in a dark and gloomy laboratory.
In my childhood memories, there were only small blankets, rubber gloves, cold stainless steel countertops, and those white coats that were always nearby.
Later, he became Vought's cash cow.
His face was printed on plastic lunchboxes, dolls, and Times Square screens across the United States.
He was used to the frenzied cheers of tens of millions of people in Times Square.
He has also casually crushed countless corpses and used lasers to burn people, skin and flesh together, into a raw BBQ.
You could say he has everything.
The only thing I've never experienced is this simple, clumsy warmth that can make my whole body go limp.
"Oh..."
Two streams of scalding tears washed over her dry, bloodshot eyes, winding down her cheeks which were smeared with black ash and blood.
The corners of the Homelander's mouth twitched upwards very slightly.
Irony, sorrow, or happiness?
Perhaps only he himself knows.
"Ha... heh..."
A faint breath sound was stuck in the throat.
Homelander struggled to lift his chin, his tear-blurred vision darting across John's face before finally focusing.
He stared at the man before him who looked exactly like him, his chapped lips trembling, managing to squeeze out a few words through gritted teeth:
You... are luckier than me.
"But why... not me..."
After saying that, the last glimmer of light in his eyes went out completely.
His head slumped to the side, and he collapsed into the ruins, completely unconscious.
"..."
John silently withdrew his hand and slowly stood up straight.
He did not pass on to "himself" the bitter and resentful memories of Old Joe's near-death experience and his deal with Lucifer.
To be honest, he has suffered enough.
There's no need to share the suffering that belongs to you alone.
A gentle breeze swept across the ruins, diluting the smell of burning in the air.
And it was at this moment.
At the edge of John's vision, a long-unseen interface suddenly appeared, with the percentage jumping upwards:
[87%...92%...99%!]
The number suddenly stopped just as it jumped to "99%".
[ World Distortion Level: 99%]
Is this ever going to end...?
John raised an eyebrow, a slightly odd look on his face.
It seems his guess was correct; to push the World Distortion Level to 100%, he must take complete control of everything.
The previous assumption was that it was Vought.
Now, there might be other possibilities... Overall, they are pretty much the same, with no real difference between the two.
Meanwhile, on the other side...
" Hughie! Can't you stop flying around in the sky like a featherless idiot?"
Quickly send those left-wing idiots with Rocket flying!
Maeve, you go up and lead the charge, Starlight follow behind and use your electricity to deal damage. Don't just randomly attack like a madman!
The roar of the ground battlefield surged back like a tidal wave.
Holding a walkie-talkie in one hand, Butcher crept behind a hidden rubble to observe the battle and give commands.
John's expression shifted slightly, and he quietly floated into the air, looking down at the entire White House.
More than thirty fully armed Vought agents, some carrying riot shields, advanced forward.
Some of them, hiding behind heavy machine guns, unleashed a torrent of fire forward.
A dozen or so Superman who had survived the previous battles charged to the front.
" Butcher, can you please shut your dog mouth... Die... you bunch of bastards!"
In mid-air, a twisted blue arc flashed by.
Hughie's figure suddenly appeared ten meters in the air.
He didn't reveal his fetish in mid-air, and ultimately chose to teleport alone to fight, following his heart.
This way, the fight won't end halfway through and cause mental pollution.
"Whoosh--"
As soon as he appeared in mid-air, Hughie suddenly raised both hands.
The four high-explosive grenades hanging on the belt came off their safety and fell down like eggs.
Try this!
Hughie is a good bowler with decent accuracy.
The grenades landed with pinpoint accuracy through the gaps in the Vought blast shelter below.
Inside the bunker, the machine gunner, who was firing with great intensity, suddenly caught a glimpse of something falling out of the corner of his eye. He looked up and saw...
Several smoking grenades came hurtling straight at his head.
The machine gunner lowered his machine gun and stammered, "Fuck."
Then--
"Boom!"
"Well done!"
With a loud shout, Queen Maeve burst out of the smoke.
With one hand gripping the Queen's Sword and the other tearing off the blast door of the burning armored vehicle, she swung it backhand towards the flames.
Thump!
The next second, the heavy component whistled out and smashed the fortified structure in front of it, along with several soldiers, flying on the spot.
Suddenly, a Superman covered in electric arcs appeared in front of Maeve, grabbed the electricity, and was about to swing it upwards.
Maeve, however, remained expressionless and easily dodged the attack by slightly shifting her body.
Then, he grabbed the back of his neck and pushed him forward, just in time to meet the armor-piercing bullet fired from the flank.
"Pfft--"
The Superman, who was used as a human shield, was riddled with bullets on the spot.
Behind the smoke and dust, a giant covered in rock armor roared and soared into the sky, launching a surprise attack on Maeve's rear.
Maeve saw this scene through the shadow of the raised sword.
Then gently squeeze the hilt, and then tighten it.
Taking advantage of the opponent's missed momentum, he turned to the side and swiftly flicked his sword along the gap in the neck armor.
Immediately, his face turned cold, and he delivered a heavy knee strike to the opponent's chest.
"Boom!"
The enormous body flew towards the direction of the firing, crashing with a loud bang, and faintly followed by the sound of berries bursting open.
The sporadic gunfire immediately fell silent.
Maeve gently flicked the blood off the blade, sheathed the sword with a backhand motion, and then casually tucked her disheveled red hair behind her ear.
Beside Maeve.
Starlight's eyes flashed with electricity as it hovered close to the ground.
Die!
She let out a sharp shout and thrust both palms forward sharply.
Below, two thick beams of incandescent electricity, as thick as tree trunks, shot out from between his palms.
Camera angle change.
"Buzz--!!"
A sonic boom flashed by.
The world suddenly fell silent.
The bullet spun slowly through the air, and the exploding fireball expanded outwards like solidified jelly.
The A-Train, its face grim and breathing slightly heavily, pulled out vials of pre-filled Supe Virus from a storage pouch at its waist.
After delivering the hostages to the ground, he rushed Nathan to the nearest state hospital for emergency treatment and then drove back.
Time became his most pressing pressure.
He must act quickly.
With that thought in mind, he raised his hand into the air, assuming a starting position.
Then, he moved.
"Whoosh--"
The intense vibrations and friction between its body and the air caused it to separate into several afterimages, which plunged into the Superman enemy ranks.
"Pfft!"
Needles were inserted into the neck one after another.
"Click--"
After the A-Train had passed through the enemy lines several times, it suddenly stopped beside Butcher.
Time then resumed its normal flow around us.
Directly in front of them, the ten Superman who were about to launch an attack suddenly froze.
The next second, the blood vessels in their necks bulged out of their skin.
Numerous disgusting black growths appeared on the surface of the skin and then spread throughout the body.
Seeing this gruesome scene, the A-Train simply shook its hand expressionlessly.
"Nailed it."
"Oh, you've finally arrived! I've been waiting for you so long my little brother is—"
Butcher grinned slyly, about to utter his usual sly remarks.
But they were suddenly interrupted by the sound of rushing water coming from the ground.
Butcher and the A-Train looked at the ground in confusion.
Suddenly, streams of water appeared in the previously dry, scorched, and muddy puddles of grass.
Immediately afterwards, the main water supply network, fire pipes, and fountain pools beneath the White House were ruptured.
As if drawn by some force, it rapidly flowed and gushed out along the cracks in the ground.
Soon, the water rose higher and higher until it reached everyone's ankles, turning the entire ruin into a muddy mess.
"Hahahaha! Get out of my way, all of you!!"
Suddenly, a lewd shout came from mid-air.
They both instinctively looked up.
The Deep stood with his hands clasped somewhat nervously at his sides, his entire body resting on two rotating jets of water.
A surging torrent of water surged up from the ground.
They used the soles of his feet to lift him shakily into the air, nearly twenty meters high.
"I can fucking fly! Did you see that?! I can fly!!"
The Deep's face turned bright red, and he waved his arms exaggeratedly in the air.
Then, with a thought, he frantically gathered all the puddles that had spread beneath his feet towards him.
At this moment, the nearly five-ton water flow was forcibly compressed and swirled in mid-air.
Finally, it was forcibly molded by the Deep into a giant water sphere with a diameter of over four meters.
"Taste the holy elixir of the Lord of the Seven Seas!!"
The Deep roared excitedly and pushed its arms forward with all its might.
The next second, the extremely oppressive high-pressure water ball, accompanied by a terrifying whistling sound, slammed heavily into the last remaining tactical bunker directly in front of them.
"BOOM!!"
As we all know, falling objects from heights, even something as small as an egg, can cause horrific injuries.
What about five tons of high-pressure water?
The descending water sphere exploded with a deafening roar, unleashing an extremely terrifying impact.
"Thump!!!"
The armored vehicle, weighing tens of tons, was instantly blown away, and the bunker was destroyed with overwhelming force.
People are as fragile as paper, swept away like they're flushed down a toilet, guns and all.
"Holy crap! Holy crap!"
"Thump!"
After showing off, the Deep creature used up all the water in one go, leaving it without any support.
He then fell straight down from mid-air and landed awkwardly in the mud.
His cool demeanor lasted only three seconds.
"So... he's always been an idiot, right?"
Butcher covered his forehead, somewhat embarrassed, and looked at the A-Train.
The A-Train shrugged helplessly.
You have to understand, this is already considered normal for him.
Behind the two of them.
Cate was sitting there quietly.
His breathing was a little rapid, but his energy was still decent, and his face was flushed from exhaustion.
However, she wasn't sitting on any ruins, but on Angel Private had only recently recovered.
Yes, you heard right.
As one of the first Superman injected with V1, Private Angel's self-healing ability is also extremely powerful.
Even though John had blown her entire head off, it was able to grow back rapidly within an hour, completely restoring her to her original appearance.
That's outrageous.
Unfortunately, she ran into Cate.
At this moment, she was on all fours, like a completely tamed dog, her body bent over, lying obediently in the mud.
She used her alluring, slender waist to serve as a cushion for Cate.
Those eyes, which were once full of alluring desire, were now empty and lifeless.
"Good boy, my puppy..."
Cate's pale fingers gently rested on the back of her neck.
The tentacles of the Mind Stone extended outwards, penetrating her fiery body and locking onto her central nervous system.
The Angel Private lay motionless, even obediently adjusting the angle of its back so that its "master" could sit more stably.
However, Cate didn't even look at her.
She simply tilted her head slightly, her beautiful eyes, filled with weariness and bloodshot veins, piercing through the billowing smoke and gazing at the sky above the White House.
"How's it going over there...?"
With a few last sporadic screams, the entire South Lawn of the White House fell silent once more.
The charred corpses, molten iron, scattered bullet casings, and muddy water were all mixed together.
If it weren't for the bright sun shining over the azure sky...
It really felt like the end of the world.
"Buzz!!"
A muffled sonic boom followed.
Upon hearing the noise, everyone froze in their tracks.
Hughie stood on the wreckage, his Starlight returning to normal, and he looked up blankly.
Maeve wiped the blade.
Even the Deep lying in the mud and Cate sitting on the Private Angel.
They all suddenly stood up straight and looked up at the sky.
Under the azure sky.
The flesh-colored body, bathed in the bright sunlight, descended slowly from the sky with its hands behind its back.
John stood shirtless in the warm breeze.
Her flawless, translucent skin shone with a delicate, white glow under the golden light.
That angular face also bore no scars, only a youthful calm and acceptance.
"He... he won."
Hughie stared blankly at the sky, his lips trembling.
"... We fucking did it..."
Starlight eyes welled up with tears, and she wiped her face hard, letting out a long breath that had been stuck in her chest for so long.
Cate looked at the unharmed figure, and a smile finally appeared on her pale face.
"Pooh--"
Butcher rudely spat out the burnt-out cigar butt from his mouth.
He slowly pulled a flattened pack of cigarettes from his pocket, then took one out and lit it.
He squinted his bloodshot eyes, glancing sideways at John in mid-air, then took a satisfying drag on his cigarette.
"Alright, everyone, be normal. He's not dead."
And your outfit makes you look like a male prostitute dancing in a nightclub...
When Butcher said that, the entire audience almost lost their composure.
Even Maeve, who always had a cold expression, couldn't help but twitch her lips a couple of times.
In mid-air, John shook his head helplessly.
Then, his eyes suddenly narrowed.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, John subtly shifted his body.
It flew straight towards the main building, whose white dome was already in a terrible state of disrepair and half of it had collapsed.
The sun is blazing right now.
Above the dome, the thick smoke was blown open by the wind, creating a gap.
The broken flagpole leaned precariously high in the empty sky.
The edges of that Stars and Stripes were charred and warped by the flames, the red and white ribbons fluttering helplessly in the wind.
John hovered in front of the flagpole.
Against the blinding sunlight, his face was shrouded in shadow, his blue eyes reflecting a deep, faint light.
He slowly extended his right hand, his five fingers gripping the rough flag.
Then, with a calm expression, he pulled it downwards.
"Sizzle--!"
Accompanied by a dull, crisp sound of fabric tearing.
The flag, symbolizing supreme authority, was torn down and completely detached from the dome.
Then John let go.
The tattered Stars and Stripes looked like a black bird with broken wings.
Swirled by the warm wind, it plummeted into the ruins below, filled with corpses and flames.
At this moment, the surviving drones began to operate.
At this moment, the camera suddenly zooms in.
"Snap!"
The scene is blurred, then switches to overlap.
"Snap! Snap!"
The ear-piercing, rapid clicking of camera shutters was accompanied by the blindingly bright flashes of light.
The charred smoke, blood, and mud quietly faded away.
Instead, the heavy, solemn, dark blue background wall of the White House press briefing room has been replaced.
And the press conference hall was packed with journalists from hundreds of mainstream media outlets around the world.
In front of the podium.
Dozens of microphones bearing the logos of major media outlets such as CNN, BBC, and Reuters were neatly arranged along the edge of the podium.
Right in the center of the podium.
John stood there solemnly.
He changed into a well-tailored, all-black haute couture suit.
His broad shoulders stretched the fabric to create a crisp silhouette, his dark gray tie was tied meticulously, and his short hair, styled to the side, gave him an exceptionally capable look.
And behind him.
The members of the Boys Squad, all dressed in formal attire, lined up in a row.
Butcher changed into a slightly tight dark gray suit, his tie was a little crooked, and he looked surprisingly a bit reserved.
Hughie, dressed in a dark blue suit, nervously held onto Starlight was wearing a white suit skirt.
From the side of the two people.
Cate wore an elegant and aloof black dress, while Maeve stood beside her with her arms crossed.
Next to it is the Deep, who is frantically trying to control his facial expressions.
Frenchie, who was fidgeting with his hands behind his back, and the A-Train, whose expression had softened slightly.
At this point, the atmosphere in the meeting room gradually became tense.
Billions of viewers worldwide are watching via satellite broadcasts and live television rebroadcasts.
He stared intently at the man on the screen who looked exactly like Homelander.
John wasn't nervous at all. Instead, he leaned forward slightly and placed his hands steadily on the edges of the podium.
He lowered his eyes and leaned closer to the row of microphones.
Good afternoon, everyone.
John slightly raised his head, his gaze passing over the countless flashing cameras.
"... This war actually started a long time ago--"
Just as Vought was using Compound V to control society.
They define what a hero is, what a monster is, what justice is, and what a threat is.
They control the media, they control the politicians, the military, and they control you.
Then they turned around and stuffed money and power into their own pockets, while throwing the corpses of their opponents into the crematorium of the Red River.
John then fell silent for a moment.
He took his hand off the podium, grabbed a piece of paper, and waved it in his hand.
"I've prepared a lot to say, mostly about what Vought did?"
Why do we need to fight? How do we clean up the mess?
Frenchie helped me polish it twice, and he said it was too long and asked me to cut some parts, but I was too lazy to do it.
At this moment, the Deep muttered something under his breath from behind:
" Frenchie, you're even polishing the boss's manuscript? Aren't you supposed to be an engineering student?"
Frenchie shrugged.
He said he couldn't write the speech and asked me to help him revise it... How could I refuse?
"Alright, alright, you two, shut up."
Starlight turned around and glared at them, and the two of them immediately fell silent.
John looked at the faces below the stage, his finger hovering over the edge of the paper.
"But I don't think you want to hear me read thousands of words... you might as well go home and sleep."
What I really want to say is, welcome to--
He smirked, then paused.
"A New Era for America."
The moment the words left his mouth!
The entire spacious press conference hall fell into a brief, deathly silence.
However, this deathly silence lasted only half a beat.
The next second, the entire hall erupted in chaos.
The flashes went off at an even more frenzied pace, and the shutter sounds became incessant.
The microphone and arm were frantically thrust forward.
Countless shouts and questions in different accents surged forth like a tidal wave.
And right in the midst of this noisy and tumultuous wave.
Edge of sight.
The translucent light screen that John had been staring at suddenly trembled silently.
[99%...]
The numbers flashed, and then they crossed that final chasm.
[ World Distortion Level: 100%]
It's done.
Looking at the surging crowd below and the blinding white light, John slowly let out a sigh of relief, then calmly closed his eyes.
The deafening clamor outside was miraculously shut out the moment my eyes closed.
Instead, there was an indescribable warmth.
Like a pool of spring water, gently caressing.
Immediately, a massive flow of information, like spring rain nourishing the earth, silently imprinted itself into his mind.
John saw four words.
[ The Book of Destiny ]