"Split"
After the Riot broke out, the alarm system in the Vought Tower began an endless loop of alarms.
This means that wherever a digital screen is installed on any floor, the same sound will play repeatedly.
"Urgent Riot has broken out on the 55th floor! Requesting backup!"
Meanwhile, on the top floor of the building.
Around the corner, inside the office.
Sunlight filtered through the curtains and the gaps in the blinds, falling on the bezel of the LCD TV hanging on the wall.
The TV was still on, playing a loop of alarms depicting the Riot inside the building.
"Zzz--"
A dark red beam of light swept past and struck precisely the center of the LCD TV screen mounted on the wall.
The next second, the glass panel melted through, leaving a charred, round hole, and sparks flew from the internal circuitry.
Soon, a pungent, burning smell filled the air, and the previously lit screen went completely black.
One minute ago.
The Homelander stood in front of the mirror, hands on his hips, chin raised, examining his reflection.
A crisp, dark blue uniform, blonde hair framing her face.
He subtly adjusted his facial muscles, his lips curving into a perfect smile.
"One more day."
He stared at his perfect face in the mirror, his fingertips tracing the fabric of his uniform at his waist, his eyes filled with smugness and lurking gloom.
The V1 serum will arrive in one more day.
Once he has fully absorbed that substance, his power will take another huge leap forward.
To become the strongest Superman in the world.
At that time... it will be Edgar, Stormfront, or that mysterious clone.
Everything is just a pile of clay and earthenware.
However, the LCD TV on the wall was still playing that annoying alarm.
So what if there's Riot?
To be honest, he had no interest in the trivial matters happening downstairs.
You should know that he is the supreme leader of the Seven and the biggest face of Vought International.
Just a bunch of rebellious scoundrels?
He wasn't qualified to handle it personally; the rest of the Seven would naturally clean up the mess.
"A bunch of worthless bastards."
He muttered to himself in front of the mirror, his tone filled with undisguised contempt.
"You don't deserve to waste my time."
No sooner had the words left his mouth than a muffled, loud bang suddenly erupted from downstairs, accompanied by a massive energy surge.
The entire office shook, and the chandelier swayed, almost falling down.
Then the alarm continued to sound.
"Call..."
The Homelander, who already had very little patience, finally ran out.
Suddenly, the muscles at the corner of his eye twitched, and he simply tilted his head to the side.
A Heat Vision shot out without warning, instantly blasting the source of the noise into scrap metal.
Immediately afterward, a flash of extreme frustration and violence crossed his blue eyes, and he turned and darted away.
Only a blue afterimage remained in place.
It descended vertically along the building's exterior wall and came to a steady stop at the entrance of the 55th-floor corridor in less than two seconds.
Homelander stood with his hands behind his back, his eyes lowered as he surveyed the scene of devastation before him, floating silently and observing the battle unfold with great interest.
At this moment, the Superman prisoners were besieging several security guards.
Maeve moved swiftly down the corridor, pinning a runaway Superman against the wall before slashing another charging prisoner away with her sword.
Two unknown good-for-nothings were back to back, teaming up in a corner to fight off the other prisoners.
At this moment, the fire-breathing prisoner straddled a fallen guard, gripping his neck tightly with both hands and opening his mouth as wide as possible.
The next second, a torrent of flames erupted from his mouth, about to engulf the guard's face.
"Whoosh--"
The fire-breathing prisoner was so engrossed in his mouth movements that he was completely unaware that someone had suddenly appeared behind him.
Until a hand wearing a red glove reached out from behind and gripped the back of his neck tightly.
"Now... can any kind of trash run rampant in Vought?"
Homelander brought his mouth close to the fire-breathing prisoner's ear and spoke slowly and deliberately.
With Five Fingers working at the same time, they slowly sank into the flesh on the side of his neck, with the thumb and forefinger just wedged into the soft tissue on both sides of his cervical spine.
Then, he grabbed it.
The fire-breathing prisoner was easily lifted up by Homelander, the black smoke from his mouth suddenly choking him back down his throat, like a struggling cockroach.
"Die."
With a gentle twist of his wrist, the Homelander pushed the object against the wall.
"Smack!"
A shallow pit shaped like a human head immediately appeared in the wall, with concrete mixed with a large chunk of flesh stuck to the bottom of the pit.
At that moment, someone nearby seemed to recognize Homelander.
She was a woman so thin that her ribs protruded.
But its power seems exceptionally great.
Just now, she was smashing a fire hydrant pipe that she had torn off the wall against the guard's head.
Unexpectedly, when I turned around, I saw a "kind" smiling face.
"Ah!"
Startled by the Homelander's words, the woman dropped the iron pipe she was holding, which hit her own toe.
But she seemed completely oblivious to the pain, simply backing away with her mouth open.
With a stumble, his heel accidentally hit the edge of an overturned riot shield, and he fell backward into a pile of broken glass.
The woman's palm was instantly cut by the shards of glass, and blood began to gush from her palm.
But she still kept crawling backward, supporting herself on the ground, her eyes filled with extreme fear. Then, a warm flow, carrying a fishy smell, gushed out.
"Oh..."
Homelander ignored her, simply pinched his nose, stepped over her, and continued walking into the crowd ahead.
As he walked, red light gathered in his eyes, then condensed into a thin beam of light as thin as a pencil lead, sweeping gently from left to right.
In an instant, the red light sliced a straight arc through the murky air.
Before the three prisoners standing side by side could even run, their bodies were cut in half at the waist.
All the abdominal organs burst out, and the sweet, cloying smell of burnt protein quickly filled the air.
The entire process takes no more than ten seconds.
The muscular man, now enlarged, had just gotten up from the ground.
He had been stabbed twice in the ribs by the Green Flash, and had also taken more than a dozen punches to the chest from the Iron Fist. His head was still buzzing.
With several overlapping images in front of me, I didn't notice what was happening at the other end of the corridor at all.
He only saw a blond man in a dark blue uniform suddenly appear in front of him, the uniform bearing the familiar star-spangled flag pattern.
But he seemed unable to remember.
He grinned, revealing a set of crooked, yellowed teeth.
He habitually looked down at the man who was almost a head shorter than him, spitting blood-stained saliva onto the ground at the man's feet.
Who the hell are you?
Upon hearing the muscular man's words, Homelander tilted his head slightly.
The dark red light in his eyes suddenly intensified.
Immediately afterwards, the compressed Heat Vision went straight into the muscular man's left eye socket and then flew out from the back of his head.
"Nonsense."
It only took a second.
The muscular man's massive body slammed straight to the ground, white smoke billowing from the hole in the back of his head.
At that moment, all the surviving prisoners in the corridor witnessed this scene.
The muscular man's nickname is " Kunba ".
He could withstand close-range fire from a submachine gun and smash a steel plate with a single punch, reigning supreme in the high-prison area for four years.
As a result, a beam of red light from the Homelander pierced through his head, just like a child's game.
Upon realizing this, the prisoners instantly erupted in chaos.
This is completely different from the previous riots where people shouted and shoved each other.
This time, they were desperately and frantically fleeing in all directions.
If Maeve had struck them, leaving them with severed limbs, they might not have died, but they ran into Homelander...
They are 100% guaranteed to see God.
However, the uninterested Homelander did not choose to pursue it.
He slowly withdrew his Heat Vision and glanced down at the soles of his combat boots.
When I stepped on the back of the neck of the fire-breathing prisoner, there was some disgusting blood on it.
So he lifted his foot and rubbed it twice on the back of a fallen prisoner on the ground to wipe away the blood before raising his head again.
But just as their gaze fell upon the corridor, they spotted a familiar figure standing in another section, B, at the end.
The Homelander squinted, gradually sketching out a vague shape from his memory of the person's figure.
Between the two men were collapsed concrete blocks, twisted fire pipes, and prisoners and security guards lying haphazardly on the ground.
As the red warning lights flashed in alternating patterns, a sweet, fishy smell suddenly welled up in the hearts of the Homelander.
wrong...
Accompanying the memories is the salty, fishy smell of the sea.
The Homelander seemed to have thought of something, and his heart sank suddenly.
The other person seemed to have noticed him too.
Directly opposite, John's heightened senses easily detected a gaze rushing towards him from afar.
He turned his head, and his gaze met that of the Homelander.
John knew that it was Homelander.
That was me in the past.
But he didn't intend to make a move, because he had other companions with him.
Starting a fight here would only foolishly expose ourselves to Vought's watchful eye.
Even if he easily defeats Homelander, his other teammates won't be able to escape.
If his teammates are gone, where will he get the resources to contest Compound V?
On the other side, Homelander was also stunned.
That face, exactly like his but strange, was less than twenty meters away, staring at him indifferently.
His eyes held no other emotion, only a calm, still gaze.
At this moment, all other sounds in the corridor seemed to be filtered out by an invisible membrane.
The Homelander was forced into a state of flow reminiscence.
All he could hear in his ears was the sound of his own heartbeat.
It was oppressive and suffocating.
His eyes began to redden involuntarily, his fingers trembled slightly, and then he clenched them into fists.
At this moment, countless repressed thoughts began to surge into his mind, colliding, pushing, and grinding against each other.
He wanted to rush up and grab the other man by the neck, to burn that damned face with his Heat Vision, and to return all the humiliation with interest.
Then step on his head, crush his skull, and grind all the bones in his body.
However, that suffocating scene was already etched into his memory.
The indifference in those crimson-gold eyes as they looked down, the suffocation as their hands gripped his neck so tightly, the pain, the palpitation of impending death.
He actually began to waver.
Thinking of this, the Homelander gasped for breath as if emerging from deep water, and the red light around his eyes quickly dimmed.
No... at least not now.
The Homelander tried to convince himself, deliberately putting his hands back behind his back, his chest heaving, his eyes darting around, pacing back and forth.
Anyway, I'm about to get my V1, so what am I afraid of?
Although I don't know what you are, I don't care... I'll get the answer soon.
The Homelander finally convinced himself, relaxed, and his nerves were no longer tense.
He even shook his head smugly, lowered his gaze towards John in the distance, and revealed a sinister, cruel, and expectant expression.
Not now... wait until I get my V1 injection, then we'll see.
Thinking about it, a satisfied smile appeared on the face of the Homelander.
She glanced at John, then turned around without looking back and disappeared from the spot.
Looking at the area not far away...
John, observing Homelander's strange behavior, could roughly understand what the other was thinking, based on his own knowledge of him.
but...
He really used to be like that... a neurotic idiot who both cried and laughed, was arrogant and smug?
Is that correct?
at the same time.
In a luxurious apartment where old songs with a World War II feel are playing.
The Soldier Boy was sitting on the sofa, his legs draped over a heavily made-up, blonde, blue-eyed middle-aged woman, holding a bourbon in his hand.
His eyes were slightly narrowed, and one hand was restlessly groping.
Soon, with the help of the middle-aged woman, they found a damp walkie-talkie.
"Hey... Edgar, can you stop calling me with that Dick voice you use?"
"This is the third call already. Can't you see I'm on a date with a beautiful girl... If I ever can't take it anymore, I'll get you knee pads to serve me."
To the Soldier Boy, he wasn't a formal employee of Vought, and he disdained being that bastard.
He remembered seeing Clara on TV a few days ago, so he called Edgar over and made a huge scene.
Knowing he was in the wrong, Edgar conceded, promising to bring Clara to Neuman after his election victory, so he could deal with her as he saw fit.
And restore all their reputations.
But all of this has one premise.
That means cooperating with Vought's requests when necessary, and otherwise staying in this lousy place and not moving around unnecessarily.
Furthermore, avoid making public appearances unnecessarily.
The Soldier Boy agreed; he was quite satisfied with the place... It was just a temporary wait, and he could afford to wait.
The 55th floor.
"Knew."
The Soldier Boy hung up the walkie-talkie and tossed it to the other side of the sofa, shook the nearly empty bottle of bourbon, and then downed it in one gulp.
" Jennifer... beauty, could you get me my battle suit, hiccup--"
The Soldier Boy hiccuped, staggered to his feet, and picked up the shield leaning against the back of his chair.
"Hey, you bunch of plantation trash, where's that... elevator you were talking about? I need to change my clothes."
The Soldier Boy clutched his uniform and looked at a black guard standing at the door.
"Uh... Mr. Soldier Boy, that's not an elevator, that's called a changing room."
Didn't elevators already exist during World War II...?
The white guard standing directly opposite the black guard first glanced at him, then looked at the Soldier Boy and replied somewhat weakly.
"Oh? I think you're pretty good. I've decided to get you a good pair of knee pads..."
The Soldier Boy patted the white guard on the shoulder and gave him a fragrant burp as a gift.
"After I change, take me to that fiftieth floor, and oh yeah, you absolutely have to sit in that damn fast metal walk-in closet."
"... Uh, okay."