"Numb"
(I was busy moving all day today, and I start my new job tomorrow, so this went up pretty late. Sorry, brothers.)
"So you're saying... Godolkin did all of this by himself?"
Hughie listened with a constipated expression. He realized his brain wasn't quite up to the task.
"To be precise, he was pulling all the strings behind the scenes."
Cate leaned back against the support pillar and put the lace gloves she had just removed back on.
"But I remember he died in a fire near the end of World War II, didn't he? His headstone is still standing in Vought Memorial Cemetery."
Mother's Milk recalled.
"I'm not entirely sure either... The memory fragments in Black Noir's head were locked behind a psychic barrier.
Whoever built it probably had the same type of power as me, but they were far stronger, so I couldn't directly read anything about Godolkin."
Cate paused, then continued.
"But I could roughly piece a few things together from the scattered memories.
Soldier Boy climbed onto the operating table willingly back then, and Compound V1 was indeed developed by Dr. Godolkin himself.
But after World War II, Dr. Godolkin left behind only the legacy of Compound V, disappearing without a trace along with Compound V1.
Oh, and the reason Black Noir is still alive is that Godolkin used new Compound V to pull him back from the brink of death.
"Oi, I've heard that son of a bitch's name."
Butcher leaned against the stair railing with a roguish grin, flicking his lighter's wheel to light the cigarette between his lips.
"He was in the archives back when I worked for the CIA.
Near the end of World War II, when Allied intelligence was tracking down Nazi scientists, that son of a bitch Godolkin's name was right at the top.
But every file on him afterward was marked 'destroyed' after the war.
Tell you what, I've got an old acquaintance who used to approve file classifications in intelligence. Owes me quite a few favors... I'll look into it."
"Wait, that doesn't add up. After all these years, this Godolkin should definitely be dead, right?"
Hughie remained puzzled.
"Not necessarily."
John cut Hughie off, a flicker of recollection passing through his eyes.
Storm, who had lived for almost a century, was a ready example, and there was more to her identity than met the eye.
But all of that belonged to his previous life.
When Storm killed herself on his birthday back then, he had already strangled those feelings outright.
"How long will it take?"
"A few days if it's quick, a week if it's slow. The old bastard's retired now, living over in Manhattan. I'll have to go in person."
Butcher was a man of action. Without hesitation, he set off immediately.
That left only the other members of The Boys Squad, along with Black Noir cosplaying as a tortoise-shell bondage girl against the support pillar.
"Let's leave that for now. We have another task."
After a moment of silence, John was the first to make a decision.
"We've made the new Compound V, but none of us knows exactly what its effects will look like, so we need someone willing to be the first to eat the crab."
"Right, right. I was just going to bring that up today."
Frenchie nodded and opened the refrigerated case he had dragged in from the car.
Several neatly arranged vials of dark red liquid sat inside, swaying slightly beneath the basement lights.
"Every batch injected into supes so far has been a first-generation version made by mixing Soldier Boy's blood samples with the formula.
Our batch is the most stable version currently on the market, guaranteed to have none of the neurotoxic residue from the old process.
And theoretically, it's more potent than the old batches, with a broader range of compatibility.
Anyone who's been injected with Compound V could potentially gain a boost from this batch. The specific direction depends on the tendencies of their original abilities.
So we have to conduct a live-subject test first."
True to his science and engineering background, Frenchie had predicted the new batch's composition and the general direction of its effects.
That statement stunned everyone present except John.
"Could... could this be the surprise?"
The Deep, who had been huddled behind everyone with no presence whatsoever, suddenly darted out from beside Mother's Milk and looked at John excitedly.
"Yes. I brought you here to test the effects of the new version of Compound V. Of course, if you're unwilling, I can replace you with A-Train."
"Sir, absolutely not!"
At The Deep's words, everyone turned to look at him in unison, their expressions a sight to behold.
"No, I mean, there's absolutely no way I'd refuse..."
The Deep raised one hand, his expression changing with astonishing speed, looking as solemn as if he were receiving a decoration from the Queen of England.
"I feel it's my mission to complete the boss's experiment. If I inject the new version of Compound V first, then Frenchie-that's your name, right?"
"Then we'll definitely get firsthand research data.
And the new version's compatibility range is different from the old one. If I try it first, there'll be a sample for later."
"I've got thick skin anyway. I can do this."
Why are my teammates always as stupid as pigs...
Watching the utterly earnest Deep, John helplessly covered his eyes.
This is so fucking embarrassing.
Everyone around them was also looking at The Deep as though he were some bizarre specimen.
How did this guy get into The Seven?
"What? Was anything I said wrong?"
After his impassioned speech, The Deep noticed that everyone's expressions were off and stood there in disarray.
"Fine, fine. Get started, Frenchie. I don't want to hear this dumbass babble anymore."
"All right, coming right up."
Frenchie glanced at John, who gave a firm nod.
Let's do this!
The next second, Frenchie took an injection gun from the refrigerated case, disinfected it with alcohol as usual, then loaded it.
The Deep took off his casual jacket and rolled up his sleeve, exposing his arm.
Incidentally, much like vaccination, supes injected with Compound V retained a faint mark at the injection site.
There was a small patch of fibrotic tissue on the inside of The Deep's elbow, with a hard lump palpable through the skin.
Right here.
Frenchie pressed his thumb against the lump, then aimed the needle.
Just right.
Frenchie was an engineering guy, not some white coat, and couldn't be bothered to locate a vein or figure out the right spot.
So he simply followed his "predecessor's" example and jabbed it into the same place.
Although The Deep was a supe, his skin wasn't particularly hard, so Frenchie pierced the vein without much effort.
The dark red liquid traveled down the tube, and The Deep's body abruptly went rigid the instant the injection began.
As soon as the new Compound V entered his body, it was like red-hot sand crashing into ice water.
Feels... feels good, my ass!
The Deep felt every blood vessel in his body boil. A fierce burning sensation rushed over him, followed by a tearing sensation in his muscles.
"Aaaah-"
The agonizing pain made The Deep hunch over. He wanted to inhale, but his mouth was already filled with sweetness.
He feared that another breath would send a mouthful of blood spraying out.
On the monitor beside him, his heart rate shot straight from eighty to one hundred and fifty.
Then the capillaries at the corners of his eyes began seeping blood.
The blood spread along the curve of his lower eyelids, finally gathering at his temples into extremely thin golden lines that trickled down the contours of his cheekbones.
Then a sudden change occurred.
First, the half-meter-tall water tank in the corner began shaking irregularly, going from faint tremors to violent shaking.
The rivets on its stainless steel casing popped outward one after another under the force from within.
John looked through the tank's exterior and saw the water inside "boiling" furiously.
It was as though some invisible force were violently stretching the water vertically.
"Can you still hold on?"
Frenchie stared at the screen, then glanced at The Deep. His heart rate had already soared to one hundred and ninety.
If this continued, The Deep might really drop dead right here.
"I can."
Witnessing it all through excruciating pain, The Deep gritted his teeth and forced a strained smile at John and Frenchie.
"Beeeeep-"
Then The Deep's heart suddenly stopped beating.
His head lolled to one side, his pupils contracted to pinpoints, and every muscle in his body relaxed and went slack at once.
He collapsed into the chair like a puddle of melted cement.
The heart monitor's violently fluctuating waveform also became a slow, nearly flat curve.
"Fuck, this is bad!"
Frenchie hurriedly pressed his fingers against The Deep's carotid artery several times, then lifted his eyelids to check his pupils.
"No pupillary response to light... Fuck, fuck, fuck, this shouldn't happen. All the test readings were clearly within the normal range just now."
Frenchie spoke faster and faster, French and English mingling as his hands frantically rummaged through the first aid kit for an epinephrine syringe.
"Hughie, get me the other first aid kit, quick!"
"Yes, that one. Hand it to Cate!"
"Everyone, calm down!"
John's voice came from behind Frenchie, and he slowly walked over to The Deep.
He reached out and pressed a hand against the center of his chest, spreading his fingers and pressing his fingertips into the gaps between the ribs.
Then he willed it.
X-Ray Vision passed through the skin, sternum, and intercostal muscles, reaching The Deep's heart.
The outer heart muscle had indeed stopped moving, but deep within the ventricles, a mass of dark red muscle was coalescing, pumping blood into every blood vessel.
"He's not dead. The drug is already in his heart. He needs a system-wide reboot to fully take on its new effects."
As though to verify John's words.
Before long, The Deep's pupils, still open in "unsettled death," suddenly contracted.
Then an extremely faint blue spot suddenly appeared in the center of each white eyeball.
It wasn't over yet.
Those blue spots gradually spread outward from the centers of his pupils, expanding until they filled his entire eye sockets.
"Uaaaah-"
Inside his chest, his heart slammed the first fully charged wave of the drug into his aorta, sending it into every blood vessel.
Then, spreading through his arteries and veins, it restarted his pulmonary and systemic circulation (middle school biology).
Soon, in sync with it, the monitor's flat green line produced a violently fluctuating waveform across the screen.
With that howl from The Deep, the surroundings that had fallen silent erupted again.
After repeatedly wavering in its stance, Comrade Water Tank finally decided to pour everything out after one last stand.
The instant its stainless steel casing deformed, the water pressure inside burst through it.
Two hundred gallons of water erupted at the last instant under an invisible thrust, spraying in every direction.
The water tank had found relief, but the surrounding equipment suffered terribly.
A pipe coupling was blasted straight off by the water pressure, smashing into the laptop Hughie had just closed.
"Ah, fuck! My brand-new Alienware!"
The laptop screen cracked into a spiderweb on impact. Seeing that the water was about to spill over, Hughie abandoned the computer and immediately lunged to snatch up the power strip on the floor.
The water had already reached the outlets. A moment later, every circuit in the basement would short out.
And that wasn't the worst possible outcome.
Any later, and the basement's high-voltage electricity would travel through the water and give everyone present a grand gift of electrotherapy.
"Quick, the equipment!"
Frenchie shielded the monitor on the lab bench with his body, and Mother's Milk hurried over to help him protect the equipment.
Then he grabbed Cate and ran desperately upward, stopping only on the raised step at the basement entrance.
But the disastrous scene continued.
At that same instant, the water in the basement seemed to come alive, beginning a new pilgrimage.
Once again, it was the accursed water tank. The water remaining inside surged from the breach.
No longer bound by gravity, it climbed toward the ceiling in strands, gathering, rising, and taking shape like a waterfall flowing backward.
Next came the spreading puddle on the floor. Its entire surface swiftly lifted off the concrete, drawing out countless extremely fine threads of water along its edges.
And that wasn't all.
Even the water clinging to Frenchie's cuffs and the droplets that hadn't yet dried in Cate's hair broke free from fabric and skin, defying gravity to gather at the ceiling.
The droplets collided and fused in midair, gathering into ever-larger masses of water. Those masses swallowed one another, swelling within a few breaths to a size impossible to ignore.
There was too much water suspended in the air, too densely packed, splitting the light into countless wisps and casting rippling reflections across all four walls.
It was beautiful and all, but everyone, shouldn't you consider where you were?
That whole torrential, indescribably apocalyptic sight would be no different from a flood-sized showerhead if it came crashing down.
"Fuck..."
"W-what do we do, John? Do you have any ideas?"
Take a deep breath. Dizziness is normal.
"You guys head outside first."
John was quite satisfied with the sight before him. This was the true level of power he had imagined.
Honestly, this was no weaker than V1... If he had Frenchie work out V1's composition and then combine them...
Then the weight plundering that followed would become exceptionally easy.
First things first. Better get this sorted out.
This was Butcher's home.
Otherwise, that bearded son of a bitch would probably fly into a rage, throw down his burden, and quit outright.
Coming out of his thoughts, John quickly walked from beside the pillar to The Deep, crouched down, and reached out, pressing his thumb against the philtrum acupoint beneath The Deep's nose.
This spot lay at the junction of the upper third and lower two-thirds of the groove between the nose and upper lip.
He had learned from textbooks on his own that pressing it when someone was dazed or unconscious could stimulate the maxillary branch of the trigeminal nerve, thereby forcibly restoring consciousness.
Without much hesitation, John pressed down hard.
The next second, excruciating pain burst from the depths to the surface, then spread to the pain-sensing nerves throughout The Deep's body.
He sucked in a huge breath, like a drowning man breathing oxygen again. The patch of blue light in his pupils fractured into countless fine threads of light within his irises, then gradually faded.
At the same time, all the water suspended in midair fell at once.
Whoosh-
It was a torrential downpour-or rather, a deluge flooding everything.
John had quietly raised his biofield beforehand.
So the only one left looking like a drowned rat was The Deep, who was just about to wake up in front of him.
"Ugh..."
Beneath the pouring "rain," The Deep felt as though someone had smashed him hard over the head with a hammer.
Seriously, he was wide awake in an instant.
His fingers scrabbled along the edge of the table a few times before catching its corner. His chest heaved violently, its outline exceptionally distinct beneath his drenched T-shirt.
(It more or less looked as if his chest were stuck to his back.)
As his consciousness gradually cleared, his gaze settled on John amid the chaos.
Then he spoke.
"Boss, I think I saw God lick my dick."