"Hallo"
(The platform's recommendations are getting worse and worse. Here are two extra-long chapters today. Hope you guys can leave me some likes and comments. Thanks, everyone.)
"Fall back! Get into that room!"
Mother's Milk suddenly spotted a half-open laboratory door nearby and shouted.
Kimiko reacted immediately, charging over and kicking the door open.
Beyond the door was an empty storeroom with a concrete floor, nothing flammable, and a heavy fire door.
"Get in here!"
Frenchie and Mother's Milk scrambled inside. Kimiko reached out to pull the fire door shut and seal off the outside.
But she was still a step too late.
Lamplighter's voice drifted eerily through the sea of flames.
"Trying to run?"
The next second, a thick pillar of fire slammed into the fire door.
Clang!
The heavy fire door buckled inward, leaving a huge dent. Its edges instantly glowed red, like a red-hot branding iron.
Kimiko was closest and was driven two steps back by the blast of heat.
"He's melting the door!"
Frenchie shouted.
"Fuck, this door won't last much longer!"
Mother's Milk leaned against the wall, gasping for breath.
His forearm had already swollen, and the blisters on it had burst, leaking tissue fluid.
The pain left his temples drenched in sweat, which dripped down his jaw.
"Fuck, how is this guy so strong... I thought everyone in the Seven was a fraud like the Deep."
There had to be a way!
Frenchie gritted his teeth, turned around, and began searching the storeroom.
Quite a lot of laboratory waste was piled on this side, including several sealed, high-pressure metal canisters and a heap of discarded industrial gas cylinders.
He carefully scanned the labels, and his eyes instantly lit up.
"I've got an idea."
He crouched down, dragged three high-pressure oxygen cylinders behind the door, and stacked two metal canisters of thermite beside them.
"What's this?"
Mother's Milk came closer.
"High-pressure oxygen cylinders, and two canisters of thermite."
Frenchie gritted his teeth, his fingers flying as he removed the safety pins on the valves.
"Once the door breaks, he'll definitely charge in. We just have to push these out. When he unleashes his fire, they'll explode."
At that, Mother's Milk frowned.
"That's too dangerous. What if we get caught in the blast? This room's only so big."
"Better than burning alive."
Frenchie looked up at him, his eyes frighteningly bright, a ruthless, all-or-nothing resolve churning within them.
"Trust me this once."
Mother's Milk looked at him for two seconds, then nodded firmly.
"Okay. Kimiko, hide in the farthest corner with me in a moment."
Outside the door, the sound of burning grew louder and louder.
The fire door had already turned red all over, like a red-hot branding iron. The air was filled with the pungent smell of melting paint and metal.
Molten iron had already begun dripping from the lock.
"It won't last ten seconds."
Mother's Milk spoke gravely, his back against the innermost wall, his fists clenched.
"Ready?"
Frenchie nodded, his hand resting on an oxygen cylinder.
"Three."
"Two."
"One!"
Crash-
The fire door collapsed with a roar, slamming into the floor and scattering sparks and debris.
Lamplighter stood in the doorway like a flame demon that had crawled out of hell.
He stared fixedly at the three people inside, his lips curling into a cruel smile.
"Found you."
Now!
"Push!"
Frenchie roared.
With a sudden heave, he and Mother's Milk shoved the three high-pressure oxygen cylinders out hard.
The cylinders clattered across the scorching floor, rolling straight toward Lamplighter's feet.
Lamplighter instinctively raised his hand, lashing out with a whip of fire to knock the cylinders away.
Bang!
The fire whip struck an oxygen cylinder in a flash, its intense heat instantly detonating the high-pressure oxygen inside.
Boom!!!
The next second, an enormous explosion shook the entire basement.
The blast wave erupted in every direction, carrying flames and shards of metal.
Half the wall around the storeroom entrance collapsed instantly. Dust and smoke billowed, rubble rained down wildly, and nothing was visible.
"Cough, cough..."
Frenchie was hurled into the concrete wall by the blast. He finally managed to stand, supporting his lower back, his mouth full of dust.
Then he reached out to feel for Kimiko beside him.
"Kimiko? Are you okay?"
A warm hand reached over and caught his wrist.
Kimiko shook her head to show she was fine. Only a lock of her hair had been singed off, and dust smeared her entire face.
Mother's Milk also pushed himself up against the wall, trembling.
"Fuck... did that kill him?"
The dust and smoke slowly cleared.
A large crater had clearly been blasted into the doorway, leaving not a single patch of concrete floor intact.
But Lamplighter was still standing there.
A shield made of flames stood before him, its orange-red wall of fire sealed tight, blocking every fragment and shock wave.
Frenchie and the others' efforts had not been entirely in vain.
Lamplighter's uniform was torn in several places, his face was smudged with dust, and a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
He was clearly injured too, but not badly.
"..."
Lamplighter raised his hand and wiped the blood from his mouth with his thumb, his eyes terrifyingly sinister.
"Very good."
Lamplighter gritted his teeth, speaking each word distinctly.
"Very good indeed. It's been a long time since anyone pushed me this far."
He slowly raised his hand, gathering a dazzling fireball in his palm.
This time, the fireball changed from orange-red to ghastly white. Its temperature was absurdly high, scorching even the surrounding air until it warped and rippled like water.
"You won't be so lucky this time."
Frenchie's heart sank.
Even an explosion couldn't kill him.
Was this the power of someone in the Seven?
He stared at that ghastly white flame. If that fucking thing came crashing in, all three of them would die.
Lamplighter gave a mocking smile from a distance, savoring his pleasure, and gently thrust his hand forward.
The next second, the fireball came hurtling toward them.
Frenchie closed his eyes.
But the burning and agony he expected never came.
There was only a very soft, very gentle female voice speaking beside Lamplighter's ear.
"Could you put the fire away?"
Lamplighter abruptly froze.
He felt a hand resting on the back of his neck, though he had no idea when it had gotten there. Its fingers were slender and exerted little force.
In his mind, he tried to throw the fireball, tried to turn around and control the flames to burn the person behind him to a pulp.
But his fingers, his arms, even his neck felt filled with lead, too heavy to lift.
The power surging inside him seemed to have its throat seized by an invisible hand, sinking little by little until it went out.
The ghastly white fireball hovering in midair wavered and shrank at a visible rate, its color changing back to orange-red, then dwindling into tiny sparks.
Finally, with a soft puff, it went out completely.
Even the firelight surrounding him dissipated.
The entire corridor instantly went dark.
Only the sickly green light of the emergency lamps remained, along with the charred, chaotic wreckage covering the floor.
"You..."
Lamplighter went cold all over, a chill shooting up his spine.
What was happening?
His power... had been suppressed?
He wanted to turn his head and see who was behind him, but his neck was as stiff as stone.
He could only try to look out of the corner of his eye.
But soon, his gaze landed on a familiar figure wearing an old leather jacket.
He saw that face clearly.
Exactly the same.
Its features were identical to those of the man in his memories who always stood at the very center of the Seven, wearing a perfect smile.
Yet he clearly wasn't the same person.
The person before him was too young.
That wasn't him.
The thought had barely flashed through his mind before the other man came to a point just over ten meters away.
The instant he saw the man, Lamplighter realized the control over his body had vanished.
So, almost instinctively, he raised his hand. The flame in his palm abruptly swelled into a tongue of fire half a person's height and lunged at the man opposite him with a scorching blast of air.
But the man merely lifted his chin slightly, opened his mouth, and breathed out.
Immediately afterward, an extreme chill erupted from ahead.
The cold was like a blizzard appearing out of thin air, swallowing the oncoming tongue of fire in an instant.
The orange flame froze within transparent ice like a bizarre piece of amber. It paused for only half a second before rushing straight toward him with the cold.
Lamplighter did not even have time to react.
The cold did not stop, climbing straight onto his arm.
The next second, his entire right arm, from fingertips to shoulder, was encased in thick ice.
Together with the flames that had just surged up, it froze into a rigid pillar of ice.
Lamplighter's fingers spasmed uncontrollably, and the lighter clenched in his hand slipped between them.
It struck the ice with a clang and rolled far away.
The cold kept spreading upward, climbing his neck and forming a thin layer of white frost.
Lamplighter strained to raise his head and look at the person standing before him.
The man's eyes were lowered as he looked down at him, as though looking at an ant by the roadside, calm and indifferent.
"Cate, come back."
"Lamplighter... so you retired... I thought you were dead."
John studied Lamplighter's sanitation uniform with interest, finding it somewhat amusing.
"Since when did old remnants of the Seven start working as cleaners?"
"Tell me, what did they offer you to make you willing to stay somewhere like this?"
"..."
Lamplighter clenched his back teeth, averted his gaze, and said nothing.
He did not know why this "Homelander" had come, or whether he worked for Vought, or had been sent by Stormfront to clean house.
Or perhaps he was Storm's enemy.
Whichever side he belonged to, the more Lamplighter said, the more mistakes he could make, so his best option was to remain silent.
Still, he could not help stealing another glance at the other man's face.
So alike.
Practically cast from the same mold.
"You look a lot like someone I know."
John's brow twitched almost imperceptibly. Those words again.
"I'm not him."
As he spoke, John took half a step forward, his shadow engulfing Lamplighter completely.
"You'd better answer my question first."
John's occupational habit kicked in, and an intense red glow began to flare in his blue eyes.
One second, two seconds, three seconds.
Lamplighter silently watched those cold red eyes, then suddenly tugged at the corners of his mouth, revealing an ugly, bitter smile.
There was self-mockery in it, exhaustion, and a little of the release that came from smashing an already cracked pot.
He had endured eight whole years in this godforsaken place.
He had watched batch after batch of young kids get sent in.
Most of them were students from Godolkin University, their eyes shining with dreams of the Seven and fantasies of superheroes.
But in the end, they all became corpses covered in white sheets, dragged out through the freight passage and thrown into the incinerator to be burned to nothing.
He guarded these filthy secrets, unable to say a word.
At that thought, he licked his lips, cracked from the cold, and spat out a name.
"It was Storm."
At Lamplighter's words, the red glow in John's eyes gradually died out, and a flicker of understanding crossed his face.
His guess had been right after all.
According to the information the world had revealed to him, an experiment on the scale of the supe virus absolutely could not be sustained by a university president alone.
That meant there had to be someone behind the curtain pulling all the strings.
And Storm had previously been Liberty, who had retired back in the last century, and she was also Dr. Vought's wife.
She had both the money and the resources.
"So... who's Storm?"
Hughie, who had been following behind, suddenly poked his head out and asked in confusion.
Earlier, while keeping watch outside, he had noticed an explosion inside the laboratory. Without another word, he had hidden behind a tree and immediately called John.
John hadn't wasted any words either, rushing to the scene with Cate.
"Storm is Liberty."
"She was the one who proposed the project here."
Lamplighter's voice slowly steadied. Since he had already opened his mouth, there was nothing left worth hiding.
John didn't interrupt, merely nodding slightly for him to continue.
"That Shetty at Godolkin University is her public-facing proxy. They want to develop a virus that only affects supes."
Lamplighter coughed.
"Those students who fight tooth and nail to get in think they've gotten a ticket to the top, but they're really experimental material she screened in advance.
Anyone with strong powers or good talent gets tricked into coming here under one pretext or another.
This place is a bottomless pit anyway. Once you're in, you're never getting out."
"These viruses have already taken basic shape. The virus directly rewrites Compound V's gene sequence.
It takes effect very quickly, too. Three or four hours at the fastest, and no more than half a day at the slowest."
He suddenly remembered last week's batch of test subjects.
Three top students from Godolkin University had howled in their isolation chambers for twelve full hours after being injected with the latest batch of the virus.
In the end, even their skin had begun to ulcerate over large areas, and they had become brain-dead.
"Is Vought her target?"
John asked.
"Actually, she doesn't take Vought seriously at all. It's just a company."
"She believes supes shouldn't be controlled by capital or by the government. They're a more perfect race, and they need a leader to guide them."
This racial ideology didn't stir much in John. Although he had "gone straight," the arrogance in his bones remained.
Back when Stormfront had been with him, she had said the same thing.
To him, supes really were a cut above everyone else.
But he couldn't do without ordinary warmth.
To Frenchie, Hughie, and the others, however, this theory seemed profoundly anti-human.
"What? Isn't that Nazism?"
"We absolutely can't let her get away with it..."
In Lamplighter's eyes, Storm was a Nazi through and through.
The "master race" she spoke of was the so-called pure Aryan supes she had believed in all her life.
She wanted to turn every supe in the world who had been injected with Compound V into an obedient puppet and establish an empire of supes under her rule.
Then she would put forward a "god" to rule.
She was a lunatic.
"How many virus samples are left?"
Lamplighter paused, then said:
"She came here herself last week and took away a batch of completed prototype strains, saying she was going to conduct field tests outside.
The remaining unfinished products, the original strains, and all the experimental data are in the cold storage room on the third basement level."
Then he lifted his unfrozen chin, indicating the heavy fire door behind him:
"Go through that door and take the stairs down to the third basement level.
The cold storage room is in the restricted area at the very back, guarded by Shetty herself.
He has the highest access privileges for the cold storage room, and he's brought an armed squad of over a dozen people. They're all Storm's trusted people, and they all have anti-supe weapons."
After saying all this, Lamplighter seemed drained of every ounce of strength, his shoulders sagging completely.
He knew that saying all this meant offending both Vought and Storm at once.
Whether or not the group before him could pull this off, he wouldn't live much longer.
But he no longer cared.
Eight years.
He had watched too many people die here, watched that lunatic's plan advance step by step.
He had been like a coward huddled inside his shell, pretending he hadn't seen anything and didn't know anything.
Now that he had said it, he felt lighter instead.
He closed his eyes and waited for the final blow.
Whether it was Heat Vision or being frozen again, at least it would be an end.
But the pain he expected never came.
He heard a faint shift of footsteps, and then most of the cold wrapped around his right arm suddenly receded.
The hard layer of ice slowly began to melt, icy water running down from his cuff and chilling his skin until it hurt.
At last, his stiff fingers could slowly bend.
Lamplighter's eyes snapped open.
John's red eyes were fixed steadily on him.
"Why... aren't you killing me?"
Lamplighter couldn't help asking.
"Interested in working with us?"