Viva la Vida
The sky was just beginning to lighten.
Old Tom's horse raised its head and snorted.
The temperature difference between day and night in the Nevada desert is absolutely enormous; it can vary by as much as thirty degrees Celsius in just one night.
The wind at dawn carried sand and gravel, stinging my skin.
Old Tom, wrapped in a pilling denim jacket, squatted behind a weathered rock, trying to light a cigarette. It took him three strikes to get the match going.
The wind was too strong here, and the flames were blown crooked and burned his fingers.
Grass!
He cursed under his breath, put the cigarette in his mouth, and rubbed his eyes.
He's here to find the cow.
Yesterday evening, a sandstorm hit, and three Angus cattle in the pen broke through the fence and ran away. He searched for them for half the night, following their hoofprints all the way to this area.
My perfectly sliced fatty beef...
Two miles ahead is the most famous villa in the area.
Locals call it " Supe Brothel ".
There are always a few days every year when a bunch of brightly colored cars drive into the city, and some scantily clad, or even naked, Superman get out and have sex all night long.
The local residents were already used to it.
But something's definitely wrong today.
The once fresh and cool breeze now carries a strange smell.
It smelled burnt, with a pungent odor of burning plastic and a faint, almost imperceptible, fishy smell like burnt meat.
Old Tom took a drag of his cigarette. He had slaughtered and skinned cattle on the ranch; he knew it all too well.
That definitely smelled like burnt meat.
Who the hell has a BBQ outside in broad daylight?
"Oh shit."
He spat, pressed the cigarette butt into the sand, stomped it out, and then mounted his horse.
"Come on, buddy, let's go take a look."
As the man and horse drew closer, the aroma grew stronger and stronger.
When they rounded a grove of thorn trees and saw the view of the villa, Old Tom froze on his horse.
this...
That luxurious villa, painted in gold and so dazzling that it made people dizzy every time they passed by, had now collapsed by almost half.
The back half of the villa looked as if it had been blasted open from the inside out, with steel bars and charred bricks sticking out.
The large iron gate in the front yard lay fallen on the sand, twisted into a strange arc. The gilded decorations on the gate had long since melted and stuck to the sand.
The ground was covered in broken pieces.
Gold sequins, shards of glass, half-burnt fabric, twisted steel bars.
Old Tom's horse pawed restlessly, snorting and refusing to move forward.
"What the hell... what on earth happened?"
He dismounted and stepped onto the sand. Even through the thick soles and insoles of his shoes, he could still feel the heat on his feet.
He took a dozen or so steps forward when his foot suddenly kicked something soft.
He glanced down.
"Wow--"
That one glance was incredibly lethal.
Old Tom immediately bent over and began to gag.
It was half an arm, wearing a charred silver uniform sleeve. The exposed flesh was blackened and shrunken, the fingers were curled up, and half a sunglasses lens was rolling around next to it.
"Ugh..."
Old Tom vomited until tears streamed down his face, and he held his knees, panting for a long time.
He shakily pulled his old phone out of his belt and pressed the 911 button three times before he finally got it right.
(Automatically recognizes Zhuanzhuan)
"Hello... hello? I need to call the police... there's Deadman here..."
"So many Deadman... they're all fucking dead..."
The 911 operator asked him for his exact location and the number of casualties.
Old Tom just stared with his mouth agape, looking up into the yard.
The courtyard was filled with people lying haphazardly.
Some were stuck to the wall like flattened meat paste, while others were curled up in the sand, their bodies charred black.
Some were even turned into hero fragments, scattered everywhere by the organization.
"I don't know, everyone in this house... is gone."
Forty minutes later.
Four police officers got out of two dilapidated police cars.
The moment they saw the horrific scene, the youngest officer couldn't hold back and vomited on the spot.
The sheriff was an old man in his sixties named Hank, who had known Old Tom for twenty years.
He squatted by the roadside and listened to Old Tom's description, his face extremely gloomy.
After thinking for a while, he spoke to his subordinates.
"We can't interfere with matters involving Superman."
He took out a walkie-talkie.
"I'm calling the state's Department of Superman Affairs now. This case is very serious."
"Secure the area first."
"All bodies have been numbered and sent for examination; their identities have all been verified. Information is currently under lockdown and must not be leaked to the media."
But the truth will eventually come out.
Thanks to the leak of internal police information, the hashtag # Nevada # has surged to second place on the trending topics list, followed by the word "hot "Carnage.
The video at the very top was taken by a passerby nearby. The camera was shaky, and you could even hear the person filming breathing. There were also charred corpses scattered all over the ground.
The comments section below is in complete chaos.
"My God... is that the Flame Baron? He was my favorite character when I was a kid!"
"Who did it? Why kill so many Superman?"
" Vought, come out and speak! What exactly happened?!"
" Superman are just a bunch of monsters! When they fight amongst themselves, it's us ordinary people who end up dying!"
Scrolling down the comments section, it was filled with voices of panic, anger, and doubt.
At this point, the emotion of Superman ignited instantly, like dry grass being set ablaze.
People from nearby cities have begun organizing protests, holding signs that read "Expel Superman " and gathering at the Vought branch.
New York, Vought Headquarters Building.
Ashley was woken up by her phone ringing shortly after she had closed her eyes.
She worked overtime until 2 a. m. yesterday, and had only been lying down for a few hours when her phone on the bedside table started vibrating like crazy.
"Ugh... when will this ever end?!"
Ashley closed her eyes and touched it for a long time before sticking it to her ear.
"Hello... this is Ashley..."
"Manager! Something's happened!"
The voice on the other end of the phone was that of the public relations department's duty manager, her voice trembling with tears, clearly panicked.
Something happened?
Ashley woke up instantly and sat bolt upright.
"Take your time, what's wrong? What has Homelander done this time?"
Her first thought was that it was Homelander.
After all, this troublemaker always manages to cause some kind of trouble every now and then, and she already has a psychological trauma from it.
"Not Homelander... but Nevada!"
"Something's happened in Nevada! An entire villa full of superheroes are dead! The video's all over the internet!"
With a "thud," Ashley lost her grip on the water glass, and it fell onto the carpet.
Are you sure?
"Yes, public opinion is now completely out of control."
Twitter, Facebook, YouTube are all filled with related content; Superman organizations have begun organizing protests.
Several hundred people have already gathered downstairs at the New York branch.
Ashley took a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down.
She walked to the window, drew back the curtains, and looked down.
Fifth Avenue was not fully lit in the early morning, but a crowd had already gathered downstairs at the Vought Tower.
Holding up signs and making a racket, you could feel the restlessness even through the glass.
"I'm going to the company now."
An hour later, on the top floor of the Vought Tower.
The elevator doors slowly opened, Edgar stepped out.
He wore a sharp, dark gray suit, his tie was perfectly tied, and his hair was combed very neatly.
After learning about the incident, his face remained expressionless, no different from usual.
But only his assistant knew that the CEO was in a very bad mood today.
At 6:30 a. m. this morning, he received a call from Edgar, instructing him to urgently notify all senior executives to hold a board meeting at 8:00 a. m.
It goes without saying that it's about Nevada.
When the assistant pushed open the conference room door, it was already full of people. Senior executives from various departments were all there, sitting upright, and no one dared to speak.
"Mr. Edgar."
Edgar nodded without saying anything, but gestured for everyone to sit down.
Everyone took their seats, heads bowed, no one daring to speak first. Everyone knew this meeting was a trap.
With such a big incident, someone has to take the blame.
"Give me the data first."
Ashley, who had just arrived at the scene, immediately stood up, opened her tablet, and reported:
"To date, there are over 270 related topics across the internet, topping the trending charts in multiple countries, with negative opinions accounting for 78.3%."
The focus is mainly on two areas: ' Vought's oversight negligence' and ' Superman safety hazards'.
She paused, then stole a glance at Edgar.
" Superman protests have erupted in twelve cities offline."
Five advertisers have already terminated their contracts, and eight more are still observing the situation. The removal rate of products from supermarket shelves has reached 32%...
I don't want to hear this.
Edgar interrupted her, raising his eyes and scanning the crowd.
The voice was calm, yet extremely oppressive.
"I don't want to hear about the losses, I don't want to hear about public opinion, I just want a solution."
Ashley swallowed hard and forced herself to speak:
"The public relations department has drafted two plans."
"First, immediately issue a statement characterizing the incident as a terrorist attack by an extreme Superman organization, and distance yourself from Vought."
Second, arrange for the Seven to visit the victims' families at the scene of the incident, make charitable donations, and try to salvage the public image...
Edgar suddenly turned to the strategy director beside him.
"What was the original filing?"
The strategy director opened the documents in front of him
The original plan was to gradually release the news of the Soldier Boy's survival next month, laying the groundwork for his "heroic return" persona.
It emphasizes patriotism, aligns with the military's recruitment propaganda, and cooperates with the Department of Defense's Superman residency project.
It is estimated that this will bring at least three billion in commercial value.
He wiped the sweat from his brow and added:
"But now... with this happening, his persona is definitely ruined, because if the Soldier Boy appears, the public will associate his abilities with the incident."
Pushing him out now will only backfire.
Edgar remained silent.
He leaned back in his chair, his fingers interlaced and resting on his chin.
The meeting room was completely silent; everyone held their breath, waiting for his decision.
He actually learned about the Soldier Boy's loss of control immediately.
His original plan was to gradually build up the situation, first letting the Soldier Boy cause some trouble outside to create a sense of crisis.
To make the public feel that "stronger hero protection is needed," the gimmick of upgrading Homelander was launched.
When the time is right, bring the Soldier Boy back and repackage him as a "veteran who has endured humiliation and hardship."
He held two trump cards, each checking the other, both in his hands.
But he never expected the "veteran" Soldier Boy to be so ruthless.
Upon his return, he slaughtered forty-seven retired Superman, turning the situation into a complete mess.
This Soldier Boy is still as difficult to deal with as he was back then.
"Registration suspended."
After a long silence, Edgar slowly spoke.
"The plan to bring back the Soldier Boy has been postponed indefinitely, and all related promotional materials have been destroyed."
"If public opinion can't be suppressed, then divert attention."
Edgar said calmly, then pressed the intercom button on the table.
"Let Neuman in."
Upon hearing this somewhat familiar name, everyone exchanged glances.
Neuman? Victoria Neuman? The young female legislator who announced her candidacy so boldly?
Why call her here at this time?
The door opened shortly afterward.
Victoria Neuman walked in.
She wore a well-tailored gray suit skirt and a white shirt, with a perfectly gentle smile on her face.
She walked over to Edgar, nodded slightly, and greeted everyone with a gesture that was neither arrogant nor humble, demonstrating excellent manners.
"Let me introduce you all, this is Member of Parliament Victoria Neuman."
"Next, she will run for U. S. Senate in Iowa as an independent candidate."
Hearing Edgar's words, everyone was even more puzzled.
How did a perfectly good PR campaign suddenly turn into an election saga?
The most pressing issues now are the public opinion crisis and the mess left by the Soldier Boy. What problems can this damn election solve?
really...
Edgar's gaze swept over the crowd, seeing through their thoughts.
"You only see the crisis, but it also presents an opportunity."
He tapped his fingers lightly on the table.
"Think about it, folks, why are people angry? Because they're afraid—afraid that Superman will get out of control."
They fear their safety is not guaranteed, they feel that Vought's supervision is inadequate, and they feel that the government is not doing its job. Then let's give them an outlet for their frustrations.
He looked at Neuman, his tone calm yet undeniably persuasive.
" Neuman ran as an ordinary citizen, focusing on issues such as ' Superman regulatory legislation' and 'protection of the rights of ordinary people'."
Let's redirect public anger from Vought to the systemic flaws. They're criticizing us for not managing Superman, so let's put forward a congressman who 'speaks for them'.
Let them feel that someone is fighting for their rights, that someone is taking care of this matter, and once their emotions subside, their attention will naturally shift.
At this point, Edgar paused, leaned forward slightly, and his eyes sharpened.
"More importantly... once Neuman is successfully elected and enters the Senate, the bill to allow Superman to reside in the Department of Department of Defense can be legitimately put on the agenda."
At that point, we'll have a legitimate reason to extend our reach into the military and the Department of Defense... Who will even remember this little thing about the Soldier Boy?
Upon hearing Edgar's words, everyone instantly realized what was going on.
Brilliant, absolutely brilliant.
This move, seemingly a step back, was actually a giant leap forward. It turned the crisis into a springboard, used public opinion to pressure policy, and ultimately expanded Vought's influence into the military.
Killing two birds with one stone.
"Ladies and gentlemen, I have already spoken with the leaders of several civilian Superman organizations."
Neuman spoke.
"They have already agreed to support me, and I will hold a press conference the day after tomorrow to announce my candidacy, focusing on people's livelihood and safety supervision."
I've already spoken to the media; mainstream media will focus on reporting my candidacy to suppress the hype surrounding the event.
Edgar nodded in satisfaction, gesturing for her to sit down.
"Next, the public relations department will prioritize Neuman's campaign and allocate all resources accordingly."
The marketing department should quickly develop a corresponding promotional plan to make the public feel that Neuman is one of their own and truly speaks for them.
The meeting continued.
Next, the group began discussing the details of Neuman's campaign, including funding, team, and campaign strategy.
The atmosphere gradually eased.
But Edgar's brow did not completely relax.
Because he knew in his heart that this was just a delaying tactic.
The real trouble is yet to come.
Soldier Boy is essentially a ticking time bomb, and there's still no news about the mastermind behind the kidnapping of Becca and Ryan from the Mangrove Base.
Vought had more trouble this year than in the previous ten years combined.
Just then, the conference room door was suddenly pushed open.
The long-legged secretary rushed in, her face ashen, and went to Edgar's side.
"Mr. Edgar! Look at this!"
Edgar frowned.
The secretary quickly walked over and placed the tablet in front of him.
A video is playing on the screen.
The photographer's image quality is very poor, and the photo is shaky; it's clearly taken with a mobile phone zoomed in from a distance.
The filming location was over the suburbs of the city.
In the scene, two figures are fighting, suspended in mid-air.
One of them Homelander wearing the iconic red and blue battle suit, while the other was dressed in civilian clothes with his face obscured.
What's truly bizarre is that his eyes can also emit red Heat Vision, hovering in the air.
Edgar's face darkened completely.
He leaned forward slightly, zoomed in on the video, and stared intently at the black figure.
The resolution is too low; I can't see the face clearly, only the other person's back.
Upright, composed, ruthless, and deadly in every move.
They are definitely Superman.
However, Vought had never seen such a sample before.
All of Vought's sample data were in his hands, and among so many samples, Homelander was the only experimental subject that could be called " Odyssey " level.
Apart from Homelander, there has never been a second individual whose abilities are a perfect match for Homelander's, except for Ryan.
But how old is Ryan now? How old is this person?
Grow up instantly?
Absolutely impossible.
Edgar wasn't an idiot, nor would he believe such nonsense.
So... where did this person come from?
At that moment, a strong sense of crisis crept up my spine.
If that's the case, then everything makes sense... The plan to raid the Mangrove was very likely his doing.
Even more so, a deep, Black Noir injury.
All previous assumptions have been overturned.
Thinking of this, he suddenly raised his head and looked at Neuman standing beside him, his tone a few degrees harsher than before.
" Neuman, you need to speed up your campaign. The press conference must be moved to tomorrow. I want to see you break into the top three in the polls within a week."
Neuman paused for a moment, sensing the urgency in Edgar's tone, and immediately nodded:
"I understand, I'll arrange it right away."
"Besides."
Edgar turned to the HR director, his eyes turning cold.
"Initiate the ' War Preparation Plan '."
The HR director, who was still happily planning the venue for Neuman, changed his expression instantly upon hearing Edgar's words.
"Mr. Edgar... the War Preparation Plan is still in the experimental stage! Those people are unstable, in poor mental condition, and prone to losing control..."
"Let them be stable, not unstable."
Edgar interrupted him, his tone leaving no room for negotiation.
"Bring out all the severely Superman criminals detained in Red River Prison."
Also, the Japan boy who was arrested earlier was sent in as well.
"Have Mind Stone manipulators brainwash them. I need a group of absolutely obedient combatants, the more the better."
"And those veterans, recruit those who can... As for the rest, return to your posts."
The meeting ended hastily, with Edgar setting the tone.
After the executives left, Edgar was the only one left in the conference room.
He sat in the main seat, watching a video playing on a loop on his tablet.
To be honest, after learning about Homelander's antisocial personality disorder, he did consider using Homelander's cells to create a "clone."
However, neither the technical aspects nor social ethics allow him to do so.
Therefore, this plan was shelved.
But now... a Homelander appears to be a "clone" has appeared, which likely means that Vought's core data has been leaked.
With that thought in mind, he picked up the phone on the table and dialed a number.
" Clara, if this isn't your doing, investigate this person thoroughly. Find out everything about him, even if you have to dig three feet into the ground."