The car phone fell silent for two seconds.
Edgar did not get angry at being addressed that way.
His tone did not even change. He might have been discussing the weather.
"If that's how you young people express dissatisfaction, I can understand."
Chen Mo leaned back in the driver's seat, tapping the steering wheel lightly with his fingertips. The remark made him laugh in anger.
Outside, the overturned transport vehicle was still smoking. Farther away, several headlights cast crooked beams across the old highway.
"Glad you understand." Chen Mo smiled. "While you're at it, try to understand this too: I kind of want to go straight to Vought Tower and kill you right now."
"You won't do that."
Edgar answered quickly, his tone certain, as though stating a fact.
Chen Mo raised an eyebrow. "Oh? That confident?"
On the other end of the line, Edgar said calmly, "Three experimental subjects who had lost control were never worth preserving. You dealt with them and confirmed what I wanted to know. What would you gain by coming after me now? Would a predator do something for no reward?"
Chen Mo raised an eyebrow.
The old fox wasn't even pretending.
If it had been Ashley, she would probably have started talking about an accident during a medical transfer, an investigation by the relevant departments, and Vought's commitment to public safety.
Edgar was different.
He was no longer putting on an act.
The performance was for the audience, for the market.
And Chen Mo was neither the audience nor the market.
"So?" Chen Mo asked leisurely. "Did you call just to read me the menu, or to ask how I enjoyed my meal?"
"Tonight's three experimental subjects were merely a small welcome gift. I called because I wanted to offer you a better choice."
Edgar's voice was unhurried. "Vought can provide you with more high-purity compound V, more superhuman food, and a safer hunting environment."
At that, Chen Mo could not help laughing.
"A safe hunting environment?"
"Legal targets, enclosed venues, and a complete cleanup team," Edgar said. "You need more resources to grow. We need to dispose of some inventory and find new targets. The two are not at odds."
Chen Mo grinned.
How thoughtful. It was like a slaughterhouse owner telling a wolf, You don't have to dig through trash anymore. I'll get you an employee ID.
Sign on as a dog.
"What's the condition?" Chen Mo asked.
"Side with Vought."
Edgar spoke as naturally as if he were discussing an ordinary business contract. "You can keep your freedom and your identity. The position of A-Train can continue to be yours. You can even have more."
Chen Mo reached out and lowered the car window.
The night wind rushed in, carrying the smell of earth and a faint scent of blood.
The highway in the distance was pitch-black. Only the warning lights in the armored vehicle's wreckage were still flashing, red light sweeping across the side of his face again and again.
"You want me to work for Vought?" Chen Mo asked.
"No." Edgar paused.
"Working for someone is too inefficient a term, and too likely to provoke resistance. I prefer to call it an exchange of resources."
Chen Mo laughed aloud.
"The way you put it, it sounds like I'm getting the better deal."
"You already have that kind of value," Edgar said. "More value than Homelander."
Chen Mo paused in his tapping on the car door.
That was interesting.
"Go on."
"Homelander is merely the face of a bygone era." Edgar's tone remained steady. "He is a product that was shaped unsuccessfully. He is powerful, but his upper limit is clear, his flaws are obvious, he is difficult to control, and he cannot be mass-produced."
"But you are different."
Edgar continued, "I saw what happened there: devouring, evolution, disguise, absorbing memories and abilities. You are not a product. You are a new species that is still growing stronger, a mountain of gold that increases its own value. You have your own goals and ideals. That's good. People like that are suited to cooperation."
Chen Mo smiled.
"Boss, you're making me a little embarrassed with all that praise."
"It isn't praise. It's an assessment."
Edgar said dispassionately, "If you're willing to cooperate, Vought can help you select targets, provide resources, and cover all traces of your activities. In exchange, you only need to clean up a few unstable assets for the company when necessary."
"Like Homelander?"
There was a moment's silence on the other end of the line.
Chen Mo's smile grew more pronounced.
"Relax, I was just asking."
"Every product will be replaced someday," Edgar said. "The only question is whether the time is right."
Chen Mo nodded, as though he had really taken it to heart.
Translated, that meant Homelander could be sold too.
As long as the price was right.
Here came a seasoned warrior of capitalism.
Chen Mo leaned back in his seat, his gaze settling on the darkness beyond the windshield. His voice slowed as well.
"Edgar, do you know the biggest problem with your sales pitch?"
"I'm listening."
"You've mistaken me for Homelander."
Chen Mo smiled. "You think if you feed me some meat, give me some applause, and throw in a pretty cage, I'll obediently crawl inside."
There was no sound from the other end of the line.
Chen Mo raised a hand and rubbed the space between his brows. The smile on his face faded a little.
"Besides, that dish you served tonight was too disgusting."
Edgar finally spoke. "What are you referring to?"
"Mia's father."
Chen Mo's voice was not loud, but it was much colder than before. "You grabbed a kid and her dad, experimented on them, squeezed every bit of value out of them, and finally packaged him up and delivered him right to my mouth. What, were you afraid I'd have no story to listen to while I ate, so you threw in a family drama?"
"I knew you would see those memories." Edgar's voice did not change. "That was a medical project from a long time ago. There was unnecessary roughness and excessive behavior in its execution."
Chen Mo laughed.
"You tricked a man into having his blood drawn, locked him up in a psychiatric hospital, and shocked him until he couldn't even remember his own name. You call that rough execution?"
"If you wish, I can make those responsible pay."
Edgar answered quickly.
Cleanly.
Decisively.
Without the slightest attempt to shift blame, or the slightest hesitation.
Chen Mo could even picture him sitting in his office, expressionlessly crossing some project supervisor's name off a list.
"See, that's the problem," Chen Mo said. "You're so quick to sacrifice a rook to save your king. How do I know I won't become that rook someday?"
"Because you're more important than they are."
"That sounds even scarier, Edgar. I've gone from a person to an asset."
Edgar said dispassionately, "Important assets receive a higher level of protection and bear greater responsibilities. Whether you consider yourself a person or something else, that is inevitable. If you dislike Vought's past practices, all the more reason to put yourself in a position to change the rules."
Chen Mo stared for a moment.
Then he laughed aloud.
"Are you trying to give me a lesson in principles?"
"Not principles. Reality."
Edgar said, "Outside the company, all you can do is kill the perpetrators one by one, engaging in futile individual heroism. Even if you spend your entire life on it, how many people can you save? Within the rules, you can make the system stop creating new victims. You have power, and I have resources. Together, we can save more people."
After hearing him out, Chen Mo almost applauded.
"Edgar," Chen Mo said suddenly.
"I'm listening."
"Does that pitch work on Homelander?"
The other end of the line fell silent for a moment.
Chen Mo smiled. "Probably not. He wouldn't understand it. It probably wouldn't work on Madelyn either. She'd be thinking about how to soothe the child first. As for me..."
He raised a hand and blew a small bubble with his gum.
Pop.
The bubble burst.
Chen Mo rolled the gum back into his mouth, his tone a little lighter. "I just think you people are fucking disgusting."
Edgar did not respond immediately.
In the distant wasteland, the wind rustled softly through the grass.
"What a pity," Edgar finally said. "I had thought we could have a more mature conversation."
"Mature is a word you capitalists use," Chen Mo said. "I'm a simpler man. If we don't share the same path, we don't work together."
"Differences in morals and ideals do not prevent business cooperation."
"They spoil my appetite."
Edgar sighed softly.
The sigh was faint, with no discernible disappointment. It was more as though one plan had been rejected and he had casually opened the backup file.
"Then we can only move on to the next stage."
Chen Mo narrowed his eyes.
As soon as Edgar finished speaking, the first searchlight suddenly came on in the distant wasteland.
Its blinding white beam tore through the night and fell directly on the overturned transport vehicle.
Then came the second, the third, the fourth.
Searchlights came on one after another from different directions, illuminating the entire wasteland like a makeshift execution ground.
Chen Mo narrowed his eyes.
"Oh, here's the backup plan?"
Edgar did not deny it.
"You rejected the negotiation."
"Don't make it sound like I let you down," Chen Mo said with a smile. "You had the collar and the butcher's knife ready. I just didn't stick my neck out."
In the distant night sky, a red-and-blue figure hovered in midair.
Homelander's cape snapped in the wind. The smile on his face was stiff and cold, and the red light in his eyes could no longer be contained.
In the wasteland to the left, Stormfront landed amid arcs of electricity, silver-white sparks dancing at her fingertips.
Farther away, a man in an old-fashioned combat suit held an igniter, flames spreading from his palm.
Black Noir stood at the end of the highway, silent as a black tombstone.
Behind them, more than a dozen superhumans in tactical gear slowly spread out. Some had metal arms, some had scales growing on their skin, and others had an unnatural blue light in their eyes.
Vought's superhuman force.
Looking at the people surrounding him, Chen Mo could not help whistling.
Over the phone, Edgar said one last thing. "If you change your mind now, there is still time."
Chen Mo looked down at the phone in his hand.
"Boss."
"Yes?"
"There's something wrong with you people at Vought."
Chen Mo smiled. "You always think that because you set the table and picked the menu, the guests have to eat by your rules."
With that, he tightened his fingers slightly.
Crack.
The car phone was crushed into a lump of waste plastic, and the sound of static cut off abruptly.
Chen Mo casually tossed the fragments onto the passenger seat and slowly pushed open the car door.
The night wind blew into his face.
He stepped out of the car, his toes landing on the cracked asphalt. He looked up at Homelander in midair, then at the superhumans closing in from every direction.
Every gun barrel, every gaze, and every fluctuation of power locked onto him at that moment.
Chen Mo merely raised a hand and blew a pink bubble with his gum.
Pop.
The bubble burst.
He leisurely rolled the gum back into his mouth, wearing an infuriating grin.
"So many of you came?"
Chen Mo spread his arms as black-and-red blood threads slowly crept out of the shadows at his feet.
"Was Vought worried I wouldn't get enough to eat, so you brought me a buffet?"