Breathin (Explicit)
(It's recommended to listen to it with the song on.)
(The updates are of very high quality every day, and I think this chapter is pretty good.)
Suddenly, an open space on the outskirts of the crowd collapsed.
What followed was first a piercing buzzing sound, followed by a delayed sonic boom.
Thump!
In an instant, the air solidified, violently squeezing into everyone's lungs.
Soon, everyone's attention was drawn to a Hummer that was overturned and spewing black smoke.
Like a toy, it bounced with immense inertia, crashing to the ground, which trembled violently.
Beneath the backdrop of yellow sand and dust, three figures appeared against the light in the ruins.
Starlight and Hughie stood side by side.
The blinding golden Starlight in his eyes continued to flash, and his body was surrounded by tiny, piercing electric sparks.
Hughie was wrapped in a bulky vest, the pockets inside of which were stuffed full by Frenchie.
Grenades, daggers, steel nails—everything was available.
It's John's turn.
He was simply wearing an ordinary, tight-fitting tracksuit, all in black.
As for why black was chosen?
John disliked the color of blood on other clothes; he preferred black to other colors.
His physique did not exhibit the deliberately sculpted inverted triangle silhouette of Homelander.
But beneath the visible muscle lines lies a pure and refined beauty of power, like that of an Ancient Greece sculpture.
In fact, the moment they saw John's face, many civilians were taken aback.
Vought claimed it was an experimental subject, but this... it looks too much like one!
Both had similar blond hair and blue eyes; the only difference was that John was younger and had more defined features.
Besides his imposing aura, he also possessed the naiveté of youth and a spiritedness that came from within.
It even brought back memories for many of the early 2000s, when Homelander had just become the captain of the Seven.
At this moment, the once bustling South Lawn gradually quieted down as John stepped in, filled with memories.
Many people even began to back down.
After all, they are just ordinary people, and in terms of ability and strength, they are no match for the Superman in the White House.
If a Homelander is young and at their peak, do they still have room to resist?
Even if it's fake, what he's replicating is still the same " Homelander " brand name.
At the same time, John's body suddenly swayed, then he floated up smoothly with his hands behind his back.
One step, two steps, it seemed as if I stepped on an invisible elevator, and then I flew to a height of twenty meters above the ground.
From this height, John could overlook the entire South Lawn and was level with Truman Balcony.
The morning sunlight pierced through the wispy clouds, gilding his silhouette with a sacred golden edge.
John hovered in mid-air with his hands behind his back, the hem of his clothes fluttering slightly, his eyes empty and deep, his face somewhere between light and shadow.
Half of it is deep and silent, half of it is sorrow and pity.
An ineffable divinity emanates from within.
The visual impact of this scene is undoubtedly terrifying.
Compared to the flamboyance of the Homelander, John's quiet and reserved tone reveals a more genuine "divine" aura.
"Honey... maybe we should go."
"Damn, he looks... even scarier than Homelander..."
Whispers spread like a plague among the crowd, and the initial fervor quickly melted away in the face of John's figure bathed in the morning light.
"Afraid... afraid of what? You bunch of spineless cowards!"
Suddenly, a hysterical roar shattered the crumbling silence.
In the middle of the crowd, a burly man with a face full of scars, driving a modified pickup truck, shouted loudly with his neck stiff.
He was holding a greasy rifle and pounding it against the metal roof of the vehicle.
"Knock knock knock!"
"You bunch of useless trash, don't be fooled by his pretense! He's just one person! One!!"
The bald, burly man spat as he spoke, his eyes glazed over.
"We have a full 30,000 people! 30,000 people! What are we afraid of?"
If we all attack together, we could drown him with our spittle! And we have guns, including RPGs!
"And that's a fucking 10 billion!"
"Think of your wife and children, think of your patched-up pants..."
The burly man's voice blared from the loudspeaker on the modified pickup truck, sounding particularly jarring on the quiet lawn.
This, in turn, fueled the wavering, wishful thinking of those who were still hesitant.
"Yeah! We have 30,000 men! He's nothing!"
"Kill him! For the new United States!"
"Kill those pretentious twin bastards!"
Fear is the first hidden fire that the gods sow among people, and it always spreads faster than the grace of courage.
But once the smoldering fire drinks the poison of resentment, it is propped up by the illusion of the "majority" and becomes a clamor of delusions.
The banner they proudly raised was nothing but rubble.
Encouraged by this bald man, the civilians' initial reluctance to retreat vanished instantly, replaced by a violent outburst of resentment at being violated.
"Bang!"
It's unclear who fired the first shot, but that single blast ignited what little rationality remained in the crowd.
"Da da da da--!"
"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The South Lawn was in complete uproar.
Thirty thousand civilians, blinded by anger, greed, and populism, began their self-righteous act of revenge against John, who was suspended in mid-air.
In an instant, countless tongues of fire erupted from the crowd, and all kinds of bullets and shotgun pellets turned into a dense rain of gold, pouring down on John.
Just then, Starlight was about to step forward to help, but Hughie stopped her.
Seeing Starlight's anxious and confused expression, Hughie shook his head, indicating that she should relax.
Because he had personally witnessed John's terrifying, extreme power as he emerged from mountains of corpses and seas of blood.
Mid-air.
Faced with this overwhelming firepower, John, who was suspended in mid-air, sighed and then helplessly lowered his head.
Old Joe had warned him not to hurt people indiscriminately, and especially not to kill.
But look at these ants, poisoned by greed and avarice—are they even human?
Even throughout his time in the Boys, the blood on his hands was never clean.
"Well."
A barely audible sigh escaped from John's lips.
The next second.
An invisible Bioelectric Field is solidified like a physical entity yet completely transparent.
In an instant, a spherical shape emanating from John's body suddenly radiated outwards.
"Buzz--!"
A series of trembling, resonant sounds rang out.
What followed was an unforgettable scene for viewers throughout Washington, D.C.., and indeed the world watching the live broadcast on LED screens...
It happened.
The barrage of bullets, sweeping in like a torrential rain, suddenly stopped about a meter away from John's body.
It was as if it had crashed into an invisible, soft wall of air; its kinetic energy vanished, and its speed returned to zero.
Tens of thousands of brass bullets and lead-core Negasonic Teenage Warhead hung silently in mid-air.
They surround John, forming a sphere composed of countless metallic dots.
Under the sunlight, these tens of thousands of suspended bullets shimmered with an eerie golden light.
It was like a miniature star ring made of brass, slowly revolving around John.
Time seemed to stand still at that moment.
Everyone was stunned.
They remained in firing positions, their minds blank.
Starlight stood beside Hughie, dumbfounded.
Above the sky, John slowly turned his head, his hands behind his back.
His gaze pierced through countless hovering bullets, looking down upon the foolish civilians below, who thronged like a horde of corpses.
Then, with great interest, he extended his right hand from behind his back, his fingers lightly tracing the many hovering bullets.
Finally, it stopped at a point of guidance --
That was a 7.62mm rifle Negasonic Teenage Warhead fired by the bald, muscular man.
"Interesting..."
John gently picked up the Negasonic Teenage Warhead, held it to his face, and examined it carefully, as if admiring a work of art.
As he watched, John's expression suddenly hardened.
A chilling, unruly glint flashed across her previously serene face.
"Oh."
John let out a disdainful snort.
Then, he casually flicked the 7.62mm Negasonic Teenage Warhead in his hand with his thumb and middle finger.
"Whoosh--"
A miniature explosion, visible to the naked eye, burst open from John's fingertips.
Immediately afterwards, the bullet streaked through the air at a speed completely invisible to the naked eye.
"Puff!"
Midway through the crowd.
The bald, burly man hadn't even had time to hide the fanatical expression on his face.
A fist-sized hole appeared between his eyebrows.
(This is the real footage of a bullet hitting its target, not some small hole.)
The bullet not only pierced his skull, but also instantly churned his entire back of the head, along with his brain matter and bone fragments, into a jumbled mess.
One-hit kill, John Gungnir.
It wasn't until the bald man's body fell that the surrounding civilians realized what had happened.
"Ah--!!!!"
A belated scream suddenly erupted from the deathly silent crowd.
Looking at the bald man's lifeless body with his eyes wide open, John's lips curled into a slight smile, then he blew away non-existent dust from his fingertips.
Then, he raised his head again, his gaze sweeping once more over the throng of zombies below.
Then.
"Buzz--"
The dark red light spots transformed into a violently pulsating crimson, instantly igniting the entire pupil.
Immediately afterwards, the two beams of light burst forth at an incredible speed!
In less than a thousandth of a second, two extremely pure, extremely thick, and almost tangible crimson beams of light burst forth from John's eyes.
Because the energy is too enormous.
The moment those two laser beams shot out, the air around John was violently distorted due to the extreme heat.
Immediately afterwards, a dazzling red light instantly covered the entire South Lawn.
"Laugh--!!!"
The moment John's fiery Heat Vision swept across the crowd, the flesh, bones, will, and fear of mortals...
Everything, everything, was instantly dissolved under that indiscriminate and extreme destruction.
The moment their bodies came into contact with the Heat Vision, they "self-destructed," their bones and internal organs vaporizing into clouds of blood mist.
The parts that weren't in contact with the metal were charred and torn to shreds by the intense heat, lying scattered on the ground.
The entire South Lawn had been transformed into a living hell.
30,000 people.
Although John was violent, he spared some civilians who had not launched an attack from beginning to end, allowing them to escape.
As for the others...
What was once a large and powerful crowd has now escalated into a massive stampede.
Some people were trampled to death, and others had no way to escape due to the crowding.
So much so that when John's Heat Vision swept over them, they could only watch helplessly as others exploded around them before it was their turn.
"Boom! Boom! Boom!"
The stench of blood, burning, and gunpowder mingled together, filling the air above the White House.
" Superman soldiers, we're running low on supplies... Charge!"
Not far away.
Storm watched John go on a killing spree, her face still maintaining its usual calm and collected expression.
She used those inferior races as disposable resources.
The purpose was to deplete John's strength.
Now is a good time.
"Damn it... Kimiko!!"
Ignoring the excruciating pain in his shoulder, the Deep roared, bracing himself on one hand:
"You fucking... get up!!"
Under the surging spiritual power of the Deep, the surrounding turbulent water vapor rapidly converged.
Then, a half-meter-thick, vortex-swirling high-pressure water wall instantly compressed in front of Kimiko.
When Cindy saw the water wall, she merely tilted her head with interest, then expressionlessly extended her left hand.
He gently grabbed at the wall of water.
"Bang!!"
The high-pressure water wall that had been painstakingly erected in mid-air didn't even last a second under Cindy's telekinetic power.
The next second, the entire water shield exploded like fireworks, turning into a torrential downpour.
Immediately afterwards, the explosive force sent the Deep flying through the air, his back slamming heavily against the steel beam.
"Damn... my back! Pfft--!"
The Deep clutched his waist in agony, gushing out mouthfuls of black blood mixed with fragments of internal organs.
He raised his left hand, trembling, to wipe his face, but then belatedly realized...
I don't know when my ring and little fingers on my left hand were broken off.
The two cuts were twisted with granulation tissue, and the white bone fragments were protruding, with fresh blood flowing continuously down the palm.
First came a stinging pain, then a piercing, excruciating agony.
"Aaaaaah! My fingers! How am I ever going to masturbate again...?"
The Deep was in so much pain that tears and snot streamed down his face. He knelt on the ground, veins bulging, cursing wildly as he tried to distract himself from the excruciating pain.
"..."
Cindy, barefoot and wading through the blood, walked step by step toward Kimiko lay on the ground.
In fact, she was very curious.
Normally, very few people whose limbs are crushed and burst open by her telekinesis would survive.
Most of them died on the spot, or were so shocked that they convulsed violently and were too weak to react.
As for Kimiko, both of her lower legs were gone.
But she stubbornly held on, using her bloodied arms to support herself on the ground.
Then he looked at her with red eyes.
Cindy then walked up to her, raised her right hand looking down at her, and aimed it at Kimiko's head.
The five fingers spread open again.
With just this one press, Kimiko's head will explode like a watermelon, shattering into pieces.
"You... you... let her go!"
The Deep, who had been lying in the blood, struggled to his feet and used his water manipulation ability to control the bleeding from the severed part of his finger.
He looked at Kimiko, and the ruthlessness and violence he had been hiding finally broke through all his fear at this moment.
Fuck you, Vought... Fuck you, Cindy!
"Hold--"
The Deep roared like Beast, then frantically poured all its energy into the blood and mist droplets scattered all around Cindy.
Remotely controlling restricted "water" is an extremely mentally taxing task for the Deep.
The reason he dared to use this ability to deal with Torpedo in the sea last time was...
It's because there's enough water in the sea that his body can continuously absorb water to replenish itself.
This achieves the effect of an infinite mana bar.
However, the Deep is currently only moist, with only weak water currents in its channels, and there is not enough water to replenish its energy.
But he couldn't care less about that at that moment.
Today, either he dies, or Cindy dies...
The human body consists of blood, cellular fluid, and lymph.
Seventy percent of it is water.
"Die, you son of a bitch!!!"
The Deep creature had an extremely ferocious appearance. Its intact right hand grabbed at Cindy's torso from a distance and then twisted it!
In the distance, Cindy's pupils, which had been as lifeless as an icy pool, began to tremble for the first time.
She felt the blood in her body... boiling, expanding continuously.
Blood vessels, lungs, brain, even the bladder, are constantly bloated, tearing, until...
"Pfft--! Boom!!"
A muffled, explosive sound, as if detonated inside her body, erupted from Cindy's body.
Then, Cindy's expression turned ferocious in its final moments.
The entire left side of the body, from the left shoulder and ribs all the way to the internal organs.
In an instant, it felt like being stuffed with a pound of TNT, exploding from the inside out!
Fragments of bone, rotten flesh, and torn intestines and organs splattered radially, and scarlet blood plasma covered the entire control room.
"Uh..."
Cindy's frail, broken half of her body swayed slightly, the lifelessness in her eyes completely dissipated, and then she collapsed into a pool of blood.
"Thump!"
The Deep collapsed to the ground, as if all the bones in his body had been removed, his whole body convulsing violently, and everything went black before his eyes.
He was panting heavily, but still managed to let out a wild, almost manic laugh:
"Haha... cough cough... is it good?! I'm asking you, is it good?!"
After saying this, the Deep felt as if something was blocking his throat.
After struggling for only a moment, his head slumped down heavily, and he fell silent.
A deathly silence fell over the gate.
Not long after, the Deep, who had fallen into a coma, was shaken awake with great force.
"Are you... dead or not...?"
A hoarse, stiff, and labored female voice slowly sounded beside me.
Kimiko knelt beside the Deep's body, beneath her, countless tiny fleshy buds wriggling on the outside of her already formed calves.
"... Well..."
The Deep raised his head in a daze, spat out the blood foam in his mouth, and his expression was particularly interesting.
"Holy crap... so... you can talk, huh...?"
Kimiko, her face covered in blood, managed to force a hideous smile by pulling the corners of her mouth upwards.
"I can't take it anymore... let me... lie down for a while..."
The Deep pressed its face back into the blood.
"There's some water on the ground... This stuff is a bit stronger than drugs..."
She lay there for a full twenty minutes.
Kimiko leaned against the wall and, through her own healing abilities, restored both of her calves to their original state.
Although he walks with a limp, he has recovered to about 70-80% overall.
The Deep struggled to his feet, the bleeding from his two severed fingers stopped, a thin layer of pink flesh grew back, and the pain wasn't as bad as before.
"Let's go, lift this manhole cover."
The Deep weakly kicked the metal cover on the ground.
"Once we rescue the hostages and get the A-Train here, our arduous mission to the death will be successfully completed."
So he squatted down and gripped the iron ring with his right hand.
Just as he was about to exert his strength, he suddenly froze, and his expression became extremely interesting.
It was strange, yet tinged with an indescribable sense of shock and bewilderment.
Because of his faint water molecule sensitivity, it seeped into the lower space through the gaps in the manhole cover.
The feedback received was not at all the hostages' painful cries for help.
Rather... it was... a kind of rhythmic, high-frequency panting sound, and a sticky, high-frequency collision.
Kimiko also heard it thanks to her keen hearing.
The two men's lips twitched as they looked at each other in bewilderment.
The Deep swallowed hard, and with extreme care, pried open the manhole cover a crack, peering through it.
Beneath the manhole cover lies what appears to be a laboratory completely encased in dull zinc plates.
Several large biological culture dishes were bubbling, and on the dissection table in the very center of the room...
The two were entwined together in an extremely wild and selfless manner.
The man was tall and thin, wearing a torn white lab coat and glasses.
The woman had dark skin and a body shape resembling a mutated pufferfish; her two frog-like eyes rolled upwards in time with the intense rhythm.
It took the Deep a full five seconds to match these two faces with two familiar faces from his memory.
This is... isn't this the Emissary the missing Sister Sage and Godolkin, the vice-principal?
What are they doing here?
The fight's probably already started up there, but these two bastards... are actually hiding here, playing at the most primitive form of biological communication?!
Damn it...
With the Deep dark expression, Shen Hai slammed the manhole cover shut and pulled Kimiko back away.
Then, with his right hand, he pulled out a homemade waterproof phone from his tattered combat uniform and, with trembling hands, typed a text message to the A-Train:
[No need to come to the basement, there's no fucking hostage here!]
After sending the text message, the Deep slumped down in the damp pipe, tilting his head back and letting out a weak, bitter laugh.
"Oh shit..."
The Deep looked at his left hand, which was missing two fingers.
She glanced at Kimiko, who was silently moving her wrists and whose legs were perfectly Kimiko, and two painful tears welled up in her eyes.
"Why am I always the one who gets hurt...?"
Meanwhile, inside the laboratory.
The two people, who were going crazy, suddenly stopped.
The Emissary straightened his weary back, rubbed his head in confusion, and then said in bewilderment:
Cindy's brainwaves have disappeared...
"Don't stop... Cindy's abilities will be fine. Perhaps she discovered something and just left temporarily."
The Sage touched the Emissary's cheek and continued to urge him on.
"But... I think I've detected two other new brainwaves."