The old fluorescent light tubes overhead hummed all night.
John sat at the rough old iron table, the old desk lamp he had soldered the night before sitting on it, casting a warm yellow glow.
Several sheets of white paper were spread out on the table, containing sketches he and Frenchie had drawn in black marker after their research:
Edgar, the Vought Tower, the Department of Security's organizational structure, and military contacts.
For John, Vought's top-secret information was no secret at all, because he had once been Homelander.
They have a hobby of eavesdropping on other people's secrets.
Therefore, they knew all of Vought's secrets.
Moreover, when encountering unfamiliar or forgotten parts, he can supplement the details using the memories given to him by the World Consciousness.
Therefore, one can know the general trend without leaving home.
However, what annoyed John was that Hughie and Starlight, the young couple, were sitting opposite him, snuggling together.
Hughie leaned forward, his hands resting on his knees, his hair disheveled, and his eyes dark, clearly having not slept all night.
Starlight was beside him, half-embracing him.
At this moment, John put down his marker and looked up at Hughie:
"Are you serious about what happened last night?"
I thought about it all night.
Hughie nodded.
Have you considered the consequences?
Hughie paused, then took a deep breath:
"I've thought about it. Frenchie told me about how terrifying this thing is... Some people have died on the spot after using it because their blood vessels burst."
Some people even developed mental health issues and were imprisoned in Red River Prison. The A-Train, in order to maintain his condition, ruined his heart."
These hurtful words made the A-Train who was doing squats with dumbbells not far away smile wryly, and then continue.
"But I'm sitting here doing nothing, which is no different from waiting to die. Edgar has my picture plastered all over America."
Butcher helped my dad find a place to hide, but he still calls me at least ten times a day...
That's five hundred million US dollars! These days, any random passerby looking to make a fortune could shoot me in the back of the head. Rather than begging for my life, I'd rather take the gamble.
As he spoke, he turned his head and glanced at the Starlight beside him.
Starlight didn't speak, but simply reached out and gently pressed on his wrist.
John had always wanted to investigate what effects the New Version of Compound V would have on ordinary people.
But due to various reasons, he still has people around him who are useful, so he can't make a move. Should he just find a random stranger?
He got off easy.
As for death row inmates and labor camp prisoners, John had considered it, but it didn't quite align with the "values" Old Joe had taught him.
John's moral compass is now much higher than it was in his previous life, and in principle, he would not easily harm ordinary people.
But if anyone threatens his interests, he will not hesitate to take action.
Thinking it over, John looked at Hughie's eyes, which were bloodshot yet unusually clear, remained silent for a few seconds, and then stood up:
Frenchie.
Frenchie peeked out from behind the metal shelf behind the lab bench:
"I'm here."
"How did Hughie's basic physical exam go?"
"We did it last night."
Frenchie took a list and walked around to the other side.
"My heart rate, blood pressure, and basal metabolic rate are all within normal range, and I don't have any hereditary diseases."
But the compatibility of this thing can't be determined by routine checks, so we have to bite the bullet and get it done.
Fortunately, the new version of the compound we have is much more stable than the old version that Vought used to give to ordinary people, after several rounds of improvements.
The Deep, A-Train, and Cate have all used it, and none of them experienced severe rejection reactions.
How risky is it?
Frenchie shrugged:
"If it were the old version of Compound V, the mortality rate for ordinary people would be close to 40% after injection."
Our improved version has a theoretically very low mortality rate, but that's for targeted enhancement of people who have already been injected with Compound V.
Hughie has no genetic predisposition to superpowers, so I can't guarantee what will happen after the drug is administered.
So now there are only two paths we can take.
"First, Hughie should be injected with the old version of Compound V first, and then injected with the New Compound V."
However, if this continues, the risks of the two different types of Compound V will multiply, posing a significant risk.
"Secondly, administer the New Version of Compound V directly."
However, due to its directional nature, we cannot guarantee the direction of its capabilities, and there are also certain risks involved.
I choose the second option.
Although Hughie made the decision, it didn't mean he wasn't afraid of death. If he could have played it safer, he certainly wouldn't have chosen the riskier option.
As for the direction of his abilities?
Having superpowers is good enough, why be so picky?
But... hopefully it's not some useless superpower.
At that moment, Hughie recalled the Love Sausage he had once seen, and a chill ran down his spine.
If things really turn out that way, I'd rather be dead.
" Frenchie, keep a close eye on him for the next 24 hours."
If his physiological indicators show any dangerous fluctuations, or if he cries out that he can't do it, immediately administer a sedative-blocking agent.
Frenchie glanced at Hughie:
"Okay. But Hughie, I have to warn you, this needle isn't going to be an ordinary, unpleasant experience."
Do you remember? The Deep was in so much pain that he rolled on the ground for five minutes, Cate almost fainted.
Hughie's apple bobbed, and he coughed lightly.
"I know."
It's not too late to back out now.
John looked at him.
"I don't regret it."
Hughie shook his head; he was going to take the plunge.
"Okay, Frenchie, apply the medicine."
The smell of alcohol wafted out from in front of the rocking chair.
Hughie rested his left arm on the metal table next to the rocking chair, his right fist clenched.
Frenchie first wiped around the back of his elbow with an iodine-soaked cotton ball, then took out a special syringe filled with dark red liquid.
"Here I am."
The instant the needle pierced his skin and the medication was injected, Hughie arched his back like a boiled shrimp.
"Snort...!!"
A muffled groan, barely suppressed, escaped from between his teeth.
The next second, unimaginable pain erupted from the depths of his blood vessels like a volcanic eruption!
It was as if countless molten irons were being violently poured back into his veins, scorching, burning, and even bursting inward from his systemic circulation until...
heart.
Hughie gripped the edge of the lab bench with his right hand, his fingers digging into the metal edge and drawing blood.
A large amount of cold sweat instantly broke out, streaming down his forehead and temples.
His pupils were also contracting rapidly, he was panting heavily, his chest was heaving, and his breathing rhythm was extremely erratic.
Don't hold your breath! Take a deep breath!
Frenchie grabbed Hughie's shoulder and shouted.
Starlight stood to the side, holding Hughie's other hand the whole time.
She watched as Hughie convulsed in excruciating pain, her lower lip pressed tightly together, tears welling in her eyes, as she forced herself not to utter a sound.
This pain lasted for a full minute and a half.
Gradually, Hughie's heavy breathing began to subside, and his fingers, which had been gripping the table tightly, loosened one by one.
His shirt was soaked with sweat, and he collapsed onto the rocking chair, exhausted, as if he had just been pulled out of the water, swaying back and forth with inertia.
Are you alright?
Frenchie immediately took the portable monitor and pressed it against his chest, watching the data flashing on the screen, and breathed a sigh of relief:
"Your heart rate is dropping, your blood pressure is stable, and there's no red line spike... Hughie, how are you feeling? Any dizziness or nausea?"
Hughie took the gauze and wiped the sweat from his face, saying in a hoarse voice:
"... It's alright, it's just that my head feels throbbing and my body is extremely hot, like a furnace."
"That's normal; the compound is integrating with the cells in your body."
Frenchie recorded the data.
"Sit here for twenty minutes, and tell me immediately if you feel unwell."
At that moment, Starlight immediately leaned forward and pressed herself close to Hughie, observing his condition with a pained expression.
Frenchie tidied up the discarded needles and, carrying the data sheet, glanced towards the corridor as he walked back to the lab bench.
John is no longer there.
Deep within the base, in a dark, old passageway, John stood in the shadows, his back against a peeling brick wall.
Cate had somehow walked up to him, standing about a step and a half away.
" Hughie pulled through."
Cate sounded somewhat surprised.
John recalled his past encounters with Hughie.
He was puzzled at the time by this effeminate-looking kid.
Despite having little ability, he has somehow become the core darling of the entire the Boys Squad.
This is a very strange thing.
Now, he understands a little better.
"This kid, he's really gone crazy for love."
Cate turned her head, her beautiful eyes gently gazing at John's profile:
"Actually, I'm very curious... what is your purpose in doing all this?"
"In fact, what I did wasn't much different from Hughie... It's a dream, even now, I still feel like I'm dreaming."
John leaned against the wall and whispered.
"So, you did this to save your... girlfriend?"
"No, they are my biological parents."
Upon hearing John's words, a barely perceptible glint flashed in Cate's eyes, before she turned her head away.
After a long while, she suddenly blurted out:
"It seems much quieter here now that the Mother's Milk has stopped."
"I'm wondering... will anyone else leave in the future?"
"Everyone has their own choices, and once I embarked on this path, there was no turning back."
"I will keep walking, and perhaps... I will walk on."
John gradually recalled some scenes from his past life.
In their eyes, he might be a stubborn, violent, and bloodthirsty "monster."
But few people know that what he needs is simply a deep and profound love.
Joe and Martha gave him everything he wanted.
In fact, when Lucifer told him all this, he was wary and suspicious.
After all, in legends, demons are always portrayed as cunning and greedy.
He might even deliberately set a trap, just waiting for him to crawl into it and fall into it.
But what could he do?
They had no choice but to embark on this path of no return, exploring and searching for answers along the way.
He was Homelander, John, born proud, and above all others in the world.
Therefore, he could not tolerate being chained, even if it was by the legendary Lord of Hell.
One day, he will figure it all out, break free of his shackles, and finally know himself.
Seeing John gradually lost in thought, Cate remained silent, simply standing quietly in the shadows, awaiting Hughie's good news.
Dozens of kilometers away, Manhattan.
In his luxurious office on the top floor of the Vought Tower, Homelander stands in front of a huge floor-to-ceiling mirror, admiring his perfect "god-like" image.
He had changed into his signature uniform early on.
A dark blue bodysuit, gilded eagle-head epaulettes, red high boots, and a Stars and Stripes cape draped over his back.
After receiving his V1 injection last night, he had the most restful and comfortable sleep he'd had in a long time.
He looked at himself in the mirror.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, and a prominent jawline—he looked no different from yesterday.
But he knew in his heart that everything was different now.
Thinking about it, the Homelander slowly raised his head.
Sizzle!
Two extremely faint, crimson rays suddenly shot out from his eyes.
Half a second later, the light converged.
Two tiny black burn marks, each the size of a pinhead, remained on the mirror's surface, their edges as smooth as ever.
Yes, since receiving the V1 injection, he has gained extremely fine manipulation skills.
In layman's terms, it refers to the micro-management and precision control of one's own abilities.
"Hmph... Haha."
Homelander looked at his masterpiece, his smile grew wider and wider, finally turning into a hearty, joyful laugh.
He turned and walked to the huge floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at Manhattan below.
With his superhuman vision, cars driving on the street several kilometers away were no longer blurry black shadows.
The trajectory of each vehicle even has a half-second delay afterimage.
Now, he felt a sense of fulfillment he had never felt before.
Eliminating killing and lust, what replaces them is a sacred sense of ownership and control over everything.
He turned and walked out of the office.
As they passed the elevator, the wanted poster on the wall, featuring photos of John and other team members and a $500 million bounty, stood out starkly.
Homelander merely glanced at it sideways, his eyes filled with a cat-like mockery and indifference.
"Hehe."
He didn't even stop walking; he stepped directly into the elevator.
The moment the elevator doors closed.
Meanwhile, in the secret laboratory deep underground at Vought's place.
The screen is displaying real-time physiological monitoring data of the Homelander.
The Emissary, oh, it should be Godolkin, was looking at the data, his fingers tapping on the table:
"The first phase of the spiritual anchor has been fully established."
Sage, dressed in a white lab coat and playing with black and white, stood to the side with his hands in his pockets:
"He didn't contact me all day, which means he's extremely satisfied with his current situation and has absolutely no doubts."
That's right.
Godolkin gave a cold laugh.
Having tasted the sweetness of his sudden surge in power, he would willingly swallow anything we gave him.
What if he realizes something's wrong halfway through?
He doesn't notice.
Godolkin turned around, his eyes filled with obvious mockery.
"He's too arrogant. For at least the next two or three weeks, he'll be lost in his own fantasies, unable to pull himself out."
The Sage nodded upon hearing this:
"Then let's stick to the original plan."
At this moment, in a high-rise apartment on the Upper East Side of Manhattan.
Victoria Neuman stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, her arms tightly crossed over her chest, her eyes fixed blankly on the floor.
On the floor beside her feet, the shattered screen of her phone flickered occasionally, displaying several unread administrative email notifications, but she didn't even glance at them.
It's been a full fourteen hours.
From the moment Storm hung up the phone last night, she began a frantic investigation.
As Edgar's adopted daughter, she was well-versed in politics from a young age, moving between the Bureau of Investigation and Congress.
She was already used to staying behind the scenes, controlling the lives and deaths of others.
To her dismay, Storm's information was surprisingly clean, with no trace of wrongdoing.
Even when she continued investigating, she encountered the bizarre situation of insufficient permissions.
The first step failed.
" Zoe..."
Neuman closed his eyes, his lips twitching, his eyes dry.
She tried using her personal intelligence network to find Storm's whereabouts in order to rescue her daughter.
But she dared not investigate further.
She didn't know what Storm's personality was like.
But judging from her decisive and ruthless style of doing things, Zoe could get into trouble at any time.
As for resistance?
Neuman looked down at his palm.
Her ability to explode heads is essentially achieved by establishing a microscopic Bioelectric Field through her line of sight, forcibly compressing the blood and soft tissue in the target's brain to trigger a high-pressure explosion.
This move is invincible against ordinary people, and even most Superman with average defenses.
But Storm is different.
According to her, the density of her skull is sufficient to withstand force field compression for more than three seconds.
In those three seconds, Storm could kill her several times over.
She didn't even have the confidence to resist.
Ding-dong--
Just then, the doorbell rang, breaking the silence in the living room.
Neuman opened his eyes, his pupils and irises turning completely white, and all the muscles in his body tensed instantly.
She walked quickly to the door, reached out and grasped the doorknob, her eyes fixed on the electronic peephole.
A deliveryman stood outside the door, holding an exquisitely packaged gift box wrapped in a cardboard box.
After ringing the doorbell, the deliveryman placed the gift box at the door and quickly left the hallway.
Neuman waited a full half minute, making sure there was nothing unusual around him, before slowly opening the door a crack.
On the gift box was a pink sticky note with a line of small print written in beautiful cursive script:
[For an obedient mother.]
Neuman's fingers began to tremble violently.
She seemed to have thought of something extremely terrifying, squatted down, and frantically tore open the seal on the cardboard box.
But instead of a bomb or any bloody limbs, the box contained only a pink teddy bear and a voice recorder.
Neuman grabbed the recorder and pressed play.
"Mommy! Sister Stormfront took me to play lots of fun things! We even ate a big cake..."
But it's so cold here! Sister Stormfront said she'd pick me up and take me home as soon as you finish your meeting on TV today.
"Mom, you must listen to your sister..."
The recording abruptly ended there.
Neuman clutched the pink teddy bear tightly, tears streaming silently down her pale cheeks. She collapsed to the ground, letting out a desperate moan.
She lost this round of the game completely.
Half an hour later, Neuman stood in front of the bathroom mirror.
She splashed her face with ice water and then used foundation and concealer to cover the redness and swelling around her eyes.
She changed back into her sharp, dark blue business suit, styled her hair, and applied lipstick.
He completely concealed all his fear, despair, and murderous intent beneath the refined exterior of a politician.
She picked up the broken phone from the ground, replaced it with a spare SIM card, and dialed the government secretary's number.
When the call connected, Neuman's voice regained its usual calm, composure, and arrogance:
"It's me. Please be prepared; I will be attending the congressional hearing at 2 PM today."
The sun began to slant westward.
On the rocking chair, Hughie's high fever had completely subsided, and his previously pale face had regained some color.
Starlight sat in the newly bought folding chair, clasped his left hand in both, and let out a long sigh of relief:
"How are you feeling? Are you still in pain?"
"I don't feel bad anymore."
Hughie opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling.
"It just feels like... my body has become a little lighter."
At that moment, Frenchie walked over with a stack of test data and shone a flashlight into Hughie's pupils:
"Pupils reflex to light normally, brain waves stable... Buddy, congratulations, you survived."
Hughie sat up and stretched his shoulders.
He blinked, and out of the corner of his eye, he vaguely saw that the surrounding light seemed to distort slightly.
He reached for the water glass on the table, but the instant he made the thought...
Sizzle!
His body flickered out of thin air, disappearing from the rocking chair in an instant, and then reappearing three meters away next to the lab table!
"Holy crap!!"
Hughie was startled, slipped, and fell hard on his backside, the water glass in his hand falling to the floor with a "clatter".
At that moment, everyone in the base was instantly drawn to the commotion.
As a high-speed vehicle, the A-Train's eyes are naturally adapted to capturing high-speed dynamics.
He quickly noticed something was wrong and stared intently at Hughie, who was standing beside the lab table.
"You... did you just teleport?!"
Frenchie rushed over and helped Hughie up, his eyes filled with excitement.
"Spatial displacement?! My God, I've never seen a Superman teleportation before! Hughie, you fucking hit the jackpot!"
Hughie sat on the ground, staring blankly at his hands.
In that one-thousandth of a second just now, he felt as if he had passed through an extremely thin film of water.
In that instant, space and distance seemed to lose their meaning before him.
"So, I can go to the battlefield too?"