"Raise Him Up" (the song sung by the Father in the original story)
Manhattan, night has fallen.
Neon lights from outside forced their way in through the window, leaving a patch of murky, bright light on the carpet.
On the CEO's desk lay a dark blue hardcover Bible.
The gold-embossed title lettering had long since faded and turned white, clearly indicating that it had been sitting there for a very long time.
The Homelander didn't open the book; he simply placed his hand on it, his thumb tracing the raised spine back and forth.
Snap, snap, snap...
Suddenly, the door was pushed open.
Storm walked in wearing her bulky, low-cut uniform, and slammed the door shut with her butt.
Holding a freshly opened bottle of sugar-free cola, and wearing black military boots, he sauntered to his desk.
" Homelander, what are you looking at? Have those eunuchs in the PR department become so desperate that they're going to make you into some kind of Christ Father persona?"
Homelander ignored her, his face darkening with a chilling calm.
"I'm reading this lousy book."
"Look what's written here, Clara. 'In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.'"
His thumb pressed down on the gilded lettering, applying slight pressure, and the parchment made a soft creaking sound.
"For two thousand years, billions of fools have closed their eyes every night and prayed to nothingness, asking this old dog for protection."
"Those brain-dead idiots whose heads are full of gospels only know how to sing their lousy hymns on TV every day."
I've been a father to those ordinary people outside for forty years.
I forced a smile in front of the camera like an idiot, hugging those kids covered in poop and vomit.
They even went so far as to clean up the messes of the poorest people in disaster areas who couldn't even afford to pay their taxes... and what was the result?
Why should an old dog that has never even shown its face receive all the praise?
Why is it that all idiots, when they reach their breeding peak, yell 'Oh God' instead of 'Oh Homelander'?
"What the hell has he done?"
"Ha ha ha ha!"
Upon hearing Homelander's words, Storm burst out laughing.
"I think you've been in Vought for too long; your brain has been assimilated by those idiotic voters."
Storm grinned.
"You're actually arguing with a piece of trash written two thousand years ago?"
Watch your tone, Clara.
The Homelander slowly raised his head, a crimson afterglow flickering intensely deep within his eyes, his face clouded with gloom.
"Tone? To hell with tone!"
Storm stared intently into Homelander's eyes, without fear.
"The words written on this, including the punctuation marks, are all illegible mess!"
A few refugees who couldn't get food or even bathe in the desert made up some random ghost stories.
Those idiots outside have been fucking groveling on the ground, licking God's Dick for millennia.
She walked around the wooden table, her footsteps creaking, and went straight to Homelander's chair.
Then, she reached out her long, slender hands and grabbed Homelander's neck tightly, pressing her burning body against his back.
She leaned close to the eardrum of the Homelander and exhaled a breath of warm air.
"Mortals are a bunch of complete cowards. Left-wing idiots shout about love and peace every day, while redneck old men pray to God for a hot meal every day."
They need God, but not out of reverence, but simply because they themselves are utterly worthless and incompetent.
(This is a tribute to " The Three-Body Problem ")
So... fuck God, fuck Jesus.
Storm whispered into his ear, her voice deep and seductive.
" America doesn't need religious dregs; they need you, Homelander! A true God who can save them from their misery!"
Upon hearing this, the crimson light deep within the eyes of the Homelander suddenly flared up.
Storm's outrageous remarks completely hit his sweet spot.
"You're right, Clara."
A cruel smile spread across the face of the Homelander.
immediately.
Tear!!
The parchment, under the terrifying grip of the Homelander, let out a tearing wail and was instantly ripped in two.
Paper scraps and gold dust flew wildly through the air, landing on Storm's bare collarbone.
"Let God die..."
Homelander let out a low growl, tightened his grip on Storm's waist, and instantly leaped into the air!
Storm the Batman Who Laughs, her legs clamping tightly around Homelander's lower back, her nails digging into his muscles, and blue-purple arcs of electricity crackling wildly around her.
"Phaw! John! Be like a true god! Let them see who the real master is!!"
At this moment, Homelander could no longer suppress the surging pride and desire deep within his soul, and grabbed Storm by the back of the neck!
The force was enough to completely Smash an ordinary person's cervical spine, but Storm only let out a muffled groan of pleasure.
Then, he grabbed Homelander's head tightly with both hands and slammed his lips against it!
The feet of the Homelander have left the ground.
His body floated up into the air and hung there. Storm's hands were tightly wrapped around his neck.
Two incredibly strong legs swept across the air and wrapped tightly around the Homelander's waist!
Her bare feet crossed in the air, her toes curling tightly with extreme excitement, gripping the folds at the back of her Homelander uniform.
The two of them defied gravity and floated in mid-air in the center of the 99th-floor office!
"Ha...!"
Storm's lips parted from his, leaving a thin line of saliva, and she turned her head to bite down hard on the tendon on the side of Homelander's neck.
The Homelander tilted their heads back, their chins raised to the highest point.
He felt a sense of satisfaction he had never experienced before.
In front of this woman, he didn't need to pretend to be that smiling, approachable " Homelander," he didn't need to restrain his power.
He can unleash his destructive instincts without restraint.
"Boom!"
Homelander embraced Storm, his body suddenly sank in mid-air, and he shot straight towards the giant floor-to-ceiling window like a heavy cannon.
Storm's back slammed heavily against bulletproof composite glass that was tens of centimeters thick.
Homelander's fingers dug deep into the leather uniform on the back of Storm's thigh, pressing the high-quality fabric indented.
Storm was not to be outdone; the high-voltage arcs on her body, like raging silver snakes, burst forth from her skin and slammed into Homelander's chest!
Give me more, Clara!
"Bite--"
Meanwhile, in the corridor directly opposite the office.
The gilded elevator doors slid open slowly to both sides.
Neuman walked out, wearing high heels and looking slightly reserved.
She had already mentally rehearsed what she was going to say.
"Mr. Homelander, regarding the Defense Framework from Congress..."
Edgar has been taken away and is now sitting in Federal Bureau of Investigation interrogation room.
In the past, with Edgar in front of her, she could hide in the darkest corners and lie in wait for an opportunity.
But now... Homelander has taken over.
So how should she be positioned?
Neuman touched his slightly stiff face and took a deep breath.
She forcibly wiped the sweat from her palms onto the hem of her skirt, then forced out a flawless smile again.
The office door was open.
The moment Neuman stepped onto the carpet, he narrowed his eyes.
Something's not right.
The perceived temperature in the office was much higher than in the corridor, and the suffocating smell of ozone filled the nostrils.
It also had a burnt smell, as well as a peculiar hormonal odor.
"This..."
Neuman instinctively took two steps forward, avoiding the shadows, and turned his gaze to the center of the office.
The next second, her worldview was completely reshaped.
Two people were hanging in mid-air, nearly two meters above the ground.
Homelander's bare muscles were bulging, his blond hair was disheveled, and his eyes were still glowing with a lingering red light.
Storm was like a giant black spider, her legs tightly wrapped around Homelander's waist.
My whole body heaved in and out of the air with the powerful impact of the Homelander.
Neuman stood there stiffly.
this...
(One hundred lines of C language code omitted here)
Just as Neuman fell silent, the two of them abruptly stopped moving in mid-air.
The Homelander slowly turned his head.
In his two eyes, the crimson afterglow resembled two blobs of burning blood, leaving long trails in the air.
He hovered in mid-air, looking down at Neuman was standing by the door.
Storm also stopped, her hair falling loose and covering half of her face.
The office fell silent instantly.
A few seconds later, Homelander slowly lowered his body.
Storm's feet landed smoothly on the ground.
She felt no shame whatsoever, and didn't even bother to zip up her combat uniform. She simply bent down slowly, picked up the pair of black military boots from the ground, and held them in her hand.
Homelander slowly landed on the ground, naked with his hands behind his back, and walked step by step to Neuman.
"Congressman Neuman... have you seen enough?"
Suddenly, an immense sense of oppression and the suffocating feeling of death overwhelmed me.
Neuman bit his inner lip hard to control the trembling in his body, then slowly raised his head to meet Homelander's gaze.
"Mr. Homelander."
"I... I'm here to confirm the next steps in Congress's Defense Framework..."
"Plan?"
The Homelander replied flippantly and strolled to his desk.
"The solution is simple, Victoria."
Homelander leaned against the corner of the table, arms crossed over his chest, tilting his head as he looked at her.
"Tell those old men in Congress who are sitting in their chairs waiting to die that Vought needs absolute military autonomy."
"But the premise is..."
Neuman swallowed hard.
"We can't afford any more scandals coming out at Vought's place, especially with all the financial loopholes and illegal experiments Edgar left behind..."
"There won't be any more."
The tone of the Homelander suddenly turned cold.
"That old devil Edgar is gone. Now, I'm the one in charge here."
Storm had already put on her military boots. She tilted her head, tying her boot laces while giving Neuman a dangerous glare.
"You just need to do what you're supposed to do, Neuman."
Storm stood up and walked over to Neuman.
"Follow-up legal team and public relations details will be sent to your email."
Storm extended a finger and gently touched Neuman's delicate collar.
A tiny static charge seeped through the fabric and landed directly on her sensitive spot, making her feel extremely uncomfortable.
"Alright, you can get lost now."
The Homelander waved his hand impatiently.
Neuman felt like he had been granted a pardon. Despite the strange feeling in his body, he fled the president's office as if he were escaping.
the next day.
The underground laboratory of the Vought Tower.
Due to the cultivation requirements of the project, the temperature here is kept controlled at 18 degrees Celsius.
On the side of the control panel, a large constant temperature incubator is emitting a very faint buzzing sound.
The green indicator light blinked steadily.
Inside the transparent vacuum chamber of the incubator, twenty-four long test tubes were arranged in two rows and placed quietly.
It contained a pale green, viscous liquid.
The Sage, dressed in a white lab coat, was looking through metabolic charts on a black electronic tablet.
Beside her, two technicians in full protective suits held their breath, waiting for her calculations.
"It's good; the stability test has basically passed."
After a long while, the Sage provided the answer.
"The third-generation enzyme inhibitor successfully suppressed the side effect of blood vessel rupture, and the metabolic curve did not show intermittent peaks."
The lethality rate in mice and three low-level Superman samples was successfully reduced to 20%.
She closed the notepad and looked up at the industrial blueprints on the side.
"The next issue is production capacity."
The laboratory-grade synthesis unit can produce a maximum of three test tubes per day.
To achieve 'cleaning scale', we must rely on the industrial-grade continuous flow synthesizer imported from Germany.
The Sage tapped his fingertip lightly on the record board, bringing up a map of shipping routes.
"The shipping schedule shows that the large cargo ship carrying the equipment will arrive at 1 a. m. next Wednesday, with its berth scheduled for the newly built deep-water area south of the Port of Brooklyn."
"Clap, clap, clap."
Just then, a round of applause suddenly came from the laboratory door.
The laboratory's automatic sensor doors slid open to both sides.
Storm, dressed in her battle suit, walked in clapping.
The Sage saw that it was Stormfront, so he waved his hand, signaling the two technicians to leave.
"The world's most intelligent... brain."
Storm walked to the control panel and crossed her arms over her chest.
"The efficiency they displayed certainly didn't disappoint me."
"I'm just doing what I'm supposed to do, Liberty."
Upon hearing this, Storm's eyes narrowed dangerously.
Call me Storm.
"A name is just a label."
The Sage spoke calmly as she walked to the incubator and adjusted the goggles on her nose.
"Okay..."
Storm took a step forward, her body crackling with electricity.
"You are indeed very smart, but don't try any tricks on me... You should know that I've killed plenty of black guys like you back in the day."
The Sage did not reply, but turned around and took a test tube out of the incubator.
"Mass production takes time. The cargo ship will arrive next Wednesday, and unloading, transportation, installation, and trial operation will take at least a week."
"A week? That's too slow!"
Storm refused decisively.
"The patience of the Homelander is limited; he wants to see results immediately!"
"This is an objective physical law."
"The speed of the ship is fixed, and the unloading speed of the cranes in the port is also fixed."
If you want to shorten the time, you'd have to get your Homelander to fly to the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and carry that multi-thousand-ton cargo ship across on their shoulders."
"The ship's speed cannot be changed, but the unloading and assembly time can be."
Storm took two steps forward and placed her arms on the control panel.
"Once the equipment arrives at the port, it can be assembled directly at the berth. I want to see the first batch of finished products within 72 hours."
"Assembled on-site at the berth?"
The Sage gave a cold laugh.
"The south side of Brooklyn Harbor is a semi-open area, and the initial startup of equipment requires extremely precise environmental parameters."
This includes temperature, humidity, and dust particle size.
If an error occurs during the initial startup, all subsequent production of V2 ( the Sage named the weakened derivative of V1, V2) will become waste liquid.
"That's your problem, Sage."
Storm said dismissively.
"Don't you claim to have the smartest mind in all of humanity? Solve it."
The Sage remained silent for a moment.
She pushed up her goggles, a glint of something sinister flashing in her eyes.
"Theoretically, yes."
The Sage spoke slowly.
"I can go to the berth site, but I need to get the environmental parameters of the unloading area in advance."
I need to personally lead the team and stay on-site for at least 24 hours a day to conduct round-the-clock data calibration.
"You're going in person?"
Storm raised an eyebrow.
"Only I understand the algorithm of that equipment."
The Sage placed the test tube back into the incubator and closed the door.
"What? Are you afraid I'll run away?"
You can't escape.
Storm sneered.
" The Torpedo have been redeployed to Brooklyn waters, and he will personally oversee that route."
" Torpedo? After the Mesmer's brainwashing last time, 12% of his brain neurons were damaged. He's now just a physical machine that can understand simple commands."
"He only needs to execute the instructions."
"Storm said coldly."
"You only need to bring two assistants... Too many people will attract the attention of those flies in the military and Congress."
Storm finished speaking, she turned around and walked towards the door.
But just as her hand was about to touch the sensor switch on the explosion-proof door, she stopped:
"We don't need to let Homelander know all the details about V2 mass production for now. We'll surprise him when the first batch of finished products is on his desk."
"Buzz--"
The explosion-proof door closed, and the laboratory returned to its original silence.
At this point, we cut back to the abandoned temporary base.
The gift that Carol presented on behalf of the Church of the Collective was a recording.
Hughie pressed the button.
"... Next Wednesday at 1 a. m., a new berth will be built on the south side of the Port of Brooklyn."
The industrial cargo ship from Hamburg, Germany, will dock on time; the latest industrial-grade continuous flow synthesizer is stored in the explosion-proof box at the bottom of the hold.
"Tell those scumbags at the dockworkers' union to be more discreet when unloading cargo."
Once this equipment is up and running, we can mass-produce V2 and then cultivate a large number of new 'tools'.
"So, the new drug Maeve told us about before is this V2, right?"
Hughie tilted his head and looked at John beside him.
"Looks like he's going to go even crazier..."
John never expected the plot to unfold in this way.
As soon as Edgar stepped down, "he" actually rose to power along with the Stormfront, and the path was extremely similar to his previous memories.
Just look at the posters plastered all over the streets and the inflammatory public opinion circulating online; it all boils down to one thing—
They all want to become "gods".
In fact, at most, he used to employ Mesmer and " Father " to select "believers" and pave the way for his rule as a "god".
But this time, with V2's assistance, it seems that "itself" can actually create an enhanced version of a Superman army.
Damn it... if I had had those advantages back then, I would have taken off immediately, and I wouldn't have ended up like that.
Therefore... if that's the case, then mass production of V2 must be stopped beforehand.
" The Deep."
"Ah?"
Awakened from a nap, the Deep looked around in bewilderment and pointed at himself.
"Yes, you go."