Clocks Running in the Opposite Direction
(When I listened to this song, I had a crush on a girl. Later, she got together with my best friend, but I don't regret it.)
(Yesterday I started cramming on Invincible from scratch. The Viltrumites bloodline is pretty good. I'm considering whether to get one for John.)
(But the problem is, he has Kryptonian Bloodline, so doing this would lower his status.)
"No news from him?"
"Anyway, there haven't been any announcements from the Environmental Protection Bureau recently, so we can ignore it."
Edgar said in a flat tone.
"Ever since he messed up the aquarium incident, he's been acting strangely. Once he runs out of money... he'll come back on his own."
Maeve didn't respond.
Her opinion of the Deep has now turned negative: cowardly, selfish, and damn sleazy, a bully who uses others to intimidate her.
If she could, she really wanted to stuff the Deep into the toilet.
Where's the A-Train?
Maeve asked again.
"It seems like it's been a while since I've seen him."
Edgar raised an eyebrow in surprise at the mention of the A-Train.
"Don't you know? He's planning to retire."
"Retire?"
Maeve gave a questioning look.
"Yes, Homelander has already unilaterally notified him, and the public relations department is preparing the retirement announcement."
Edgar picked up his glass, took a sip, and said casually.
"His condition is very poor right now. Homelander examined him carefully, and his injuries have almost healed."
However, due to the long-term injections of Compound V, his heart became abnormally enlarged, and if he were to accelerate further, he could very likely die suddenly.
"This is very detrimental to our brand image. Imagine, in every year's race between the old and new locomotives, the A-Train collapses halfway through."
"I think it's best to contain this risk in advance."
"We'll tell the public that he retired voluntarily."
Voluntary retirement.
These four words, spoken so casually, brought the entire career of the A-Train to an end.
Retirement means that A-Train will no longer have the IP protection of the Seven.
Without gigs, filming movies, commercials, and other sources of funding, the "retired" A-Train will have a miserable life.
Moreover, it's worth mentioning that in the early years, A-Train had made many enemies, but those enemies dared not provoke A-Train out of respect for the Seven.
Because the Homelander, who value the team's reputation highly, will warmly Heat Vision them and lead them to Jesus.
But if it's retirement, then this doesn't apply.
At that time, the A-Train will either hide in some dark corner, barely surviving, and never dare to show its face again.
Or they've already been killed by their enemies.
The atmosphere in the office instantly froze.
Maeve stood there, looking at the well-dressed, calm man behind the desk, and felt a deep sense of dread.
She has lived here for twenty years.
I thought I had seen through Vought's Coldblood and cruel "unspoken rules," but every time I watched it again, I was still filled with chills.
She remained silent for a long time, then suddenly raised her head.
"Where's Starlight? I came up from downstairs and didn't see any of her promotional posters, and she's not on my schedule. Where did she go?"
Upon hearing the word " Starlight," Edgar looked up at her, his eyes filled with a hint of scrutiny.
He slowly traced the rim of the glass with his fingers, hesitated for a few seconds, and then slowly spoke:
You probably don't know this yet, do you?
Is she in danger?
Seeing Edgar's reaction, Maeve's heart skipped a beat.
"The reason the Boys Squad was able to escape so easily was because someone inside helped them."
Edgar's gaze fell on her face, observing her expression.
"We've found out, it's Starlight."
Maeve's pupils suddenly contracted.
Starlight?
That seemingly lively girl with sparkling eyes actually dared to do such a thing.
Where is she now?
"55th Floor, Superman Prison."
"She's been locked up for now. Once the Mesmer finishes what he's doing, he'll perform memory reading on her."
"Let's see how deeply she's involved with the Boys, whether she has any accomplices, and if there's any more information."
Mesmer?
Upon hearing this, Maeve's face suddenly turned pale.
She knew all too well what kind of Mesmer Vought possessed.
The so-called " Mesmer " are actually highly dangerous Superman psychic abilities.
Three years ago, a young Superman named " Pulse " had only been in the Seven Reserve Team for a short time when he was suspected of leaking company information.
They initially said they would take him in for memory readings, find out the truth, and then release him.
Halfway through the reading, an accident occurred: the Mesmer's ability caused a side effect that directly damaged Pulse's brain nerves.
The person was rescued, but remained unconscious.
He could only lie in a private hospital owned by Vought, surviving on the compensation Vought provided, along with a ventilator and IV fluids.
Therefore, so-called memory reading is nothing more than a brutal mental invasion.
The abilities of those Mesmer are inherently unstable; if they are not careful when reading, they can turn a person's brain into a complete mess.
In mild cases, it can cause amnesia or dementia; in severe cases, it can be like Pulse, where the person never wakes up.
And Starlight is only in her early twenties.
Maeve still remembers how she dreamed of being a superhero, her eyes shining brightly.
She's so much like myself when I first joined Vought.
The same innocence, the same passion, instead of having their edges smoothed out as they are now.
Maeve watched herself gradually become numb, indifferent, and unrecognizable.
But she couldn't bear to see another girl follow in her footsteps, or even suffer a worse fate.
If Mesmer were to read her memories, Starlight would either become an idiot or a vegetable.
Then her entire life would be ruined.
Edgar watched her expression change and then suddenly smiled.
"What, you and Starlight are quite close?"
Maeve snapped back to reality, quickly suppressing all her emotions, looked up at him, and immediately resumed her usual cold demeanor:
"It's nothing, I just thought she was very hardworking, I never expected her to do something like this."
Edgar looked at her intently for a few seconds, then waved his hand without pressing further.
"Alright, you just got back and you must be tired. Go back and rest."
I'll let you know if there are any more tasks. Remember what I said today: behave yourself, and the company won't treat you unfairly.
"Understood." Maeve nodded, turned, and walked out of the office.
Maeve finally let out a long breath the moment the heavy wooden door closed behind her.
She didn't have a choice back then.
At seventeen, all alone and helpless, Vought gave her a path. She had no choice but to keep going, step by step, until she reached this point.
But there's still a chance for Starlight.
She is still young and hasn't been completely corrupted yet.
She shouldn't have died here, shouldn't have become a second Pulse, and even less should she have become a second her.
Thinking of this, Maeve raised her head, the confusion and struggle in her eyes gradually fading, leaving only a resolute expression.
She knew the cost of doing so.
Once discovered, everything she owns will be lost.
Halo, status, wealth, even life.
Edgar will not let her go, and Homelander will not let her go either. She will go from being a high-ranking the Seven to a traitor whom Vought is relentlessly hunting down.
But so what?
She was already tired of it.
Tired of living behind a mask, tired of watching myself become the person I used to hate the most, tired of rotting away in this quagmire day after day.
For twenty years, she had done so many things against her conscience for Vought, and her hands were stained with so much indelible dirt.
There has to be at least one time when you do the right thing.
Everyone should live according to their own heart at least once.
Thinking of this, Maeve stood up from the floor, walked to the table, and picked up her phone.
"Who is this? This is John."
I want to make a deal with you.
At the same time, in Vought Tower, Jail No. 55.
Starlight sat on the carpet, hugging her knees, her back against the cold metal edge of the bed, red marks from the special handcuffs still visible on her wrists.
This room prison was designed specifically to counter Starlight's abilities.
The windows were bulletproof and could not be opened from the outside, and there was no electrical equipment in the room except for a few propaganda magazines of the Homelander.
All told, Starlight had been staring at Homelander, with his shirt tied up and a fake smile, for almost two days.
The delivery person comes twice a day, drops off the food, and leaves without saying a word to her.
The salad from lunch is still on the coffee table; the leaves are wilted, and the dressing has congealed on top like a thesis defense. I have no appetite at all.
She went from anger and arguing at the beginning, to feeling powerless later, and now she is completely lost.
She joined the Seven with all her might because she wanted to be a hero, to protect others, and to make her mother proud.
But once they joined the Seven, they realized there were no heroes here, only damn scheming, lies, workplace bullying, and dirty deals.
(Faint sobs)
Starlight sniffed, raised her hand to wipe her eyes, and tried her best to hold back the tears.
She didn't know how the Boys Squad was doing now.
Will someone help her?
"Don't be silly, Annie."
She whispered to herself in the glass.
"No one will come; you have to rely on yourself."
With that thought in mind, she turned around and wandered around the metal prison-like simulation room, rummaging through all the drawers and cabinets.
It's all empty.
The toiletries in the bathroom were all plastic; there wasn't even a glass bottle, so they couldn't be used as weapons at all.
She tried to activate her power again, but the moment a glimmer of golden light appeared at her fingertips, it immediately withered away.
Fuck!
Starlight sat panting on the bathroom floor, looking at her reflection on the metal edge of the bed.
Her hair was a mess, her eyes were red, and she looked extremely disheveled.
Could it be... that she really can't get out?
In a small alley in Queens.
The A-Train leaned against the cold brick wall, panting heavily, its chest feeling as if it were being squeezed tightly by a large hand, causing it to wince in pain.
After taking only a few steps, cold sweat began to stream down his face, soaking the entire back of his casual clothes.
Just now, he was almost blocked at the door by Superman he had a past feud with.
Those Superman he stepped on when he first debuted.
Back when he was at the height of his power, these people were at the very bottom of society, not even worthy of carrying his shoes.
But now, his being kicked out of the Seven has been leaked so quickly for some reason.
Vought cut off his medical resources, and the supply of Compound V was also cut off.
He only contacted John after Homelander came knocking on his door.
But John had something to do at the time and couldn't get away, so the meeting was canceled, and they planned to reschedule for another day.
In the past few days, his various enemies have come knocking on his door.
If he hadn't realized it early, he probably would have met Jesus right there.
Thinking of this, he raised his hand to wipe the sweat from his temples, and then he felt all the pockets on his body.
He quickly found half a vial of Compound V in his pocket.
This was leftover from last month; he just tossed it in his pocket and didn't think about it anymore, so he didn't know if it had expired.
"Never mind..."
The A-Train's hand trembled as he held the syringe up to his eyes.
His gaze was complex as he looked at the pale blue liquid inside.
If we keep fighting, maybe we can hold out for a few more days, or maybe we can run faster and escape our enemies.
However, his heart was already on the verge of collapse, and the doctor said that if he continued to abuse Compound V, he could suffer a heart attack and die suddenly at any time.
All previous efforts to quit were in vain.
What if we don't fight?
He's useless if he's not beaten.
Without speed, he's nothing; endorsements are gone, fan loyalty will gradually fade, and he'll soon run out of money.
On top of that, those damned enemies keep coming to our door every day.
If it had been a few more days, he might have been lying dead in the street.
The A-Train gritted his teeth and stuck the syringe into his arm.
But just as the needle was about to pierce the skin, he hesitated again.
At that moment, he suddenly remembered his time with the Seven.
Back then, he was full of vigor and the center of attention. Wherever he went, he was greeted with cheers and surrounded by a Legion enthusiastic fans.
At that time, he felt that he was the fastest person in the world and the most successful case in the Black community.
But... how did things come to this?
"Fine, I'll give it a try no matter what."
The A-Train eventually put the compound down, removed the needle, and put it back in its pocket.
John had told him that their base had moved to an abandoned subway station in Brooklyn.
He wanted to try his luck.
at the same time.
Abandoned subway station in Brooklyn.
Frenchie used Butcher's funds to set up a tiny laboratory here.
Though small, the sparrow has all the vital organs.
This includes a microscope, a chemical stage, and other tools; that's sufficient.
It's worth mentioning that Frenchie has basically squandered the budget given by Butcher, and there's no money left to buy laboratory beds.
So, despite Hughie's strong objections, they moved the biggest rocking chair from his father's house over.
At this moment, John stood at the very front of the rocking chair.
Frenchie, following behind him, was carrying a half-person-high incubator, his eyes shining with an alarming intensity.
The Mother's Milk yawned and gave Hughie three A's, leaving Hughie completely speechless.
At this point, Frenchie placed the insulated box in the center of the lab bench and opened the lid.
Almost a whole week has passed since the Deep injection.
After testing, his water control ability is now exceptionally stable, and he has shown no adverse physical reactions.
"I think it's worth a try... it's very stable."
Just as Frenchie was analyzing the situation, a beautiful figure walked over and stood beside John.
Cate wore a plain white hooded sweatshirt and light makeup today.
The only flaw was that her delicate eyebrows were furrowed in tension, and her fingers were constantly twirling the drawstring, clearly indicating that she had something on her mind.
Today she will become the second test subject after the Deep.
Hearing their conversation, she pursed her lips, remained silent, and simply looked down at the ground.
It would be a lie to say I wasn't nervous.
Cate, being Superman herself, was not unfamiliar with Compound V.
On the contrary, she had seen far too many cases of failed compound injections in Shetty's lab.
Out-of-control babies, women covered in festering sores, and all sorts of deformed creatures that have transcended the realm of humanity.
Therefore, fear is ingrained in her very being.
No matter how beautifully Frenchie presented the data, even if John was standing right next to him.
She still couldn't let go of her worries.
At that moment, Kimiko was crouching diagonally behind her.
Her newly bought black bodysuit accentuated her figure, a rare sight indeed. She casually put her hands in her pockets, her face expressionless.
After glancing at Kimiko, John turned to look at Cate, his eyes meeting hers, which were raised and filled with a hint of panic.
"Fear?"
Cate bit her lower lip, remaining silent, but her unease was evident in the way she twisted the clothesline, betraying her true feelings.
John squinted, put his hands behind his back, and took a step forward.
He suddenly remembered what happened before he and Old Joe rode the roller coaster.
Although he had once been Homelander had experienced all sorts of thrills, both in the heavens and the earth, back then he was just a little boy whose abilities had not yet been restored.
People always feel nervous when experiencing the unknown.
Naturally, John was no exception.
Back then, Old Joe didn't act like a woman, squatting down to pat his head and gently encouraging him.
Instead, she offered him her hand to hold.
In that instant, all his unease was enveloped by that warm, large hand.
There's nothing to be afraid of anymore.
With that thought in mind, John slowly walked to Cate's side and naturally extended his left hand.
"Hold it."
Cate paused for a moment, then looked up at him.
John's profile appeared sharply defined in the cold light, and his blue eyes were like the calm surface of a still lake, undisturbed.
Cate hesitated for only two seconds before slowly loosening her grip on the drawstring and placing her icy hands inside.
John's hands were wide with well-defined knuckles, and his palms had a thin layer of calluses, like a hand warmer.
It's really heartwarming.
"Breathe."
John lowered his voice and slowed his speech.
"Follow me, inhale... exhale."
Cate instinctively followed his rhythm, and to her surprise, her wildly beating heart actually calmed down.
Frenchie.
Seeing that Cate had recovered, John raised his chin.
"Let's begin."
"Okay... Cate, I need you to lie down in the rocking chair now."
Frenchie took a deep breath and took the first reagent out of the insulated box.
Cate gently lay down on the rocking chair and rolled up the sleeves of her sweatshirt to her elbows.
Her arms were slender, with fair skin, and you could even see the pale blue veins under her skin.
Her arms were trembling slightly from nervousness.
John glanced at her, then took her other hand and gently steadied her.
It will be a little chilly.
Frenchie crouched down and used an alcohol swab to wipe the skin on her upper arm.
"It might hurt when you push the medicine in, just bear with it, it will pass quickly."
She held her breath, staring at Frenchie's hand as the piston slowly pushed down.
The first thing that washes over you is an intense coolness.
Like ice water, it spreads along the needle hole, rushes into the blood vessel, and then comes the scalding, excruciating pain.
"Ah..."
Cate gripped John's hand tightly in anguish.
It felt like countless steel needles were piercing her bone marrow, traveling along her blood vessels and relentlessly targeting her pain receptors.
"Well..."
Cate groaned, her body tensing uncontrollably, her back arching like a bow.
The pain was so intense that she even wanted to pull her hand back and then remove the needle.
But John's hand held her firmly, like an iron clamp, preventing her from moving.
"Relax."
John's voice rang in my ears.
Cate shook her head, biting her lower lip hard to swallow the moans that were about to escape her lips.
She no longer had the strength to shout.
The pain grew increasingly intense, surging towards my head like a tidal wave, and my mind was buzzing.
At that moment, countless fragmented and chaotic sounds transformed into streams of information, constantly drilling into her brain.
Frenchie's heartbeat, Hughie's tense breathing.
The sound of the ventilation ducts, and even the dripping sound of water pipes in the walls, were amplified countless times and crashed into my consciousness.
Before long, her vision began to blur, and the cold light in front of her turned into a dazzling ball of glutinous rice balls.
She felt like her head was about to explode, like something was rampaging through her skull, trying to find a way out.
By this time, Frenchie had finished administering the last bit of medicine, quickly pulled out the needle, and pressed the injection site.
Then he looked up at John.
"Her temperature keeps soaring, and her heart rate is too fast!"
Frenchie had barely finished speaking.
Cate suddenly tilted her head back and let out a low growl that was barely suppressed.
"Ah--!"
Almost simultaneously, the color of her eyes completely changed.
His originally light brown pupils were instantly swallowed by blood, and even the whites of his eyes were stained a murky dark red, like two pools of boiling blood.
The next second, a strange and violent shock emanated from her body and burst outwards.
This force is invisible and intangible; it only affects the human spirit.
(Similar to a weakened version of Conqueror's Haki )
Hughie had intended to lean forward to check the situation, but he was caught off guard and bumped right into.
My head went blank for a second, and my consciousness felt like it had been brutally crushed by a hand and then kicked away.
Hughie's legs buckled, and he staggered back two steps before collapsing to the ground.
Frenchie was the first to be hit, being the closest, and almost fainted.
Mother's Milk drowsily covered her nose, and she could feel a faint warm flow coming from her nasal cavity.
Except for John.
He just stood there, motionless, next to Cate, without even moving an inch.
The mental shock that would have made an ordinary person dizzy and disoriented dissipated as soon as it hit him, like hitting a sponge.
Having undergone the extremely complex spiritual baptism of the fourth wall, John has now refined his spirit to an incredibly terrifying level.
Even Mind Stone manipulators cannot read his memories.
However... if those people were to read these memories, they'd be lucky if they weren't scared to death or had their Dao hearts shattered.
(What I set for John was that the spoilers and clips he saw were subconscious observations of a certain world.)
(It's not about making him think he's a character from a comic book or TV series)
Thinking of this, John lowered his eyes and looked at the girl on the chair, who was trembling and had bloodshot eyes. A faint sense of relief and approval flashed in his eyes.
The impact came quickly, and it subsided quickly.
In just a few seconds, that overwhelming pressure receded like a tide.
The laboratory fell silent, with only the heavy breathing of a few people remaining.
Hughie sat on the ground, rubbing the back of his head, looking up with a bewildered expression, unable to come to his senses for a long time.
Frenchie leaned against the lab table, panting heavily.
Cate leaned back in her chair, her chest heaving, her bangs soaked with sweat, strands clinging to her face.
She was panting heavily, as if she had just been pulled out of the water; the back of her clothes was soaked.
The blood-red pupils gradually faded from crimson to a light amber, and finally returned to their original color.
She blinked blankly.
After regaining consciousness, she discovered something very strange.
She can "perceive" everything around her without even looking.
Not with the eyes, but with... the spirit.
It was as if countless invisible tentacles reached out from her mind, gently brushing over every person and every object.
She could "touch" Hughie sitting on the ground, his mind filled with incredulous mutterings.
Frenchie was rapidly recalling what had just happened; her head was spinning, like she was seasick, and she felt nauseous.
So she quickly withdrew her "hand".
Then she curiously looked at John beside her.
Just as her mental tentacles reached out, they were repelled by an irresistible force, causing a sharp pain in her temples.
Cate had been playing with her new ability like a child, reluctantly withdrew her "hand".
John... was he really that strong?
Anyway, her ability is transparent and invisible, so John definitely doesn't know about it.
Thinking of this, Cate looked up at John.
To her shock, she discovered that John was staring intently at her with his blue eyes.