Chen Mo sat behind the desk, still sifting through Edgar's memories.
The board of directors, the military, public relations, secret projects, the ownership structure, and where the Compound V samples had gone.
Layer upon layer, a whole pile of things both relevant and irrelevant had been stuffed into his head.
"Why did this old fart have so much on his plate? How come he hasn't dropped dead from overwork? Could it really be the Choc Lez?"
He raised a hand to press his temples, then casually pushed the documents on the desk forward.
"All right." Chen Mo looked at the clone in front of him, his tone casual. "Keep working here for now. Just don't let these people think the boss has suddenly gone crazy."
The clone stood by the desk, having just lowered his middle finger. At those words, he raised a hand and tugged at his suit cuff.
"What about Homelander and those other V1 subjects in the files?" His tone was businesslike. "Soldier Boy, Bombsight, Torpedo, and Private Angel, for example. How do we handle those old-timers?"
Chen Mo leaned back in his chair without giving it much thought.
"Just find a way to track down all those old bones for me." He paused, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I'll decide whether to kill them when the time comes, depending on my mood."
The clone nodded.
"Understood. Of those people, Soldier Boy's whereabouts have already been confirmed. I'll send them to you later."
"Mm, one more thing." Chen Mo stood up and shoved his hands into his pockets. "Summon all the supes tonight. Send them straight to Carnival Island in a couple of days."
The clone's expression didn't change in the slightest.
"How many should I gather?"
"Call every bastard who can make it." Chen Mo pushed his chair back and gathered the folders at the edge of the desk. "Tonight, I'm going over to those people at Samaritan for an extra meal first."
The clone fell silent for two seconds, then nodded as naturally as could be.
"All right, I'll take care of it."
Chen Mo gave him a thumbs-up, took the documents, and turned to leave.
The door to the CEO's office closed behind him, leaving only the sound of his footsteps in the quiet hallway.
He went downstairs, casually turned invisible, and slipped past the nurses and security guards into the innermost corridor of Vought's medical department.
The corridor was lit by cold white lights, and the floor had been polished to a shine.
A few nurses looked up and saw nothing, while Chen Mo had already slipped past their line of sight.
The special care ward where Black Noir and The Deep were on IV drips was right here.
Inside the ward.
Black Noir lay in bed, his entire torso wrapped in bandages, his limbs looking as if they had been taken apart and barely put back together. In the next bed, The Deep was wrapped in white gauze and curled up in a ball, fast asleep. His snores could be heard through the door.
Chen Mo took a look from the doorway, then raised a hand and gently pulled the door shut.
"Good," he said quietly. "One half crippled, the other nearly finished. Perfect for a reunion."
Black Noir was the first to notice the disturbance. His eyelids stirred, and he braced himself against the edge of the bed, trying to sit up.
The Deep, on the other hand, hadn't woken at all. His face was buried in his pillow, and his breathing was fairly steady.
Chen Mo walked to the bedside, black-and-red tendrils silently emerging beneath his feet.
Black Noir's one working hand instantly reached toward the side of the bed, but it was already too late.
Blacklight flesh spread first, surging like a sudden tide straight onto the bed.
Black Noir had barely raised his head before his entire face was covered.
"Black Noir, you're really annoying." Chen Mo looked at him, his voice flat. "I still haven't settled the score with you for stabbing me in the kidneys like crazy with that dagger last time."
A muffled sound came from Black Noir's throat, and his body jerked in a fierce struggle.
The next second, black-and-red tendrils coiled tightly around his neck and chest, dragging him bodily off the bed. Several tendrils pierced his flesh, sinking deep into his muscles.
The jolt woke The Deep. His whole body shuddered, and before his eyes were fully open, an indistinct cry had already escaped his mouth by instinct.
Chen Mo turned his head and glanced at him.
"Dead fish, you're awake?"
When The Deep got a clear look at the face before him, he recoiled against the head of the bed as if doused in ice water, fumbling for the call button.
Chen Mo raised a hand and grabbed at the air. The Deep's hand was twisted into a corkscrew by telekinesis. The next second, Blacklight tendrils shot across the floor and wrapped around his ankle.
"Don't be afraid." Chen Mo walked to the bedside, his tone surprisingly gentle. "I'm not here to talk to you about casting-couch deals or marine ecology today."
There was nothing but terror in The Deep's eyes as he desperately shrank back.
But there was only so much room on the hospital bed, and he had nowhere to retreat.
Black-and-red flesh surged over the edge of the bed, wrapping around his legs before creeping upward.
"I might as well reclaim what's left of The Seven."
With that, Chen Mo raised a hand and pressed down.
Black Noir's body was the first to be crushed into the flesh. Black-and-red tissue poured into his chest and the side of his neck like living water, swallowing him until only a twisted outline remained within seconds.
The Deep's eyes went wide, a string of trembling whimpers coming from his throat.
"Don't rush," Chen Mo said. "You two can set off together, so you won't be lonely on the way."
The tendrils tightened violently.
Both hospital beds gave off a piercing screech of twisting metal almost simultaneously, then were completely swallowed by the black-and-red tide.
The ward fell quiet.
Only the intermittent alarm from the monitor remained, and that too was soon silenced.
Chen Mo stood where he was and flexed his wrist.
Just like that, Black Noir and The Deep disappeared from the world.
The black-and-red tissue retreated along the floor as if nothing had happened.
"Okay, okay, job done. Time to clock out."
With that, he turned, pulled open the ward door, and walked straight out.
In the elevator, the lights of Vought Tower receded upward floor by floor. Beyond the glass curtain wall, New York was beautiful at night.
Chen Mo walked out of Vought Tower and stopped at the entrance to look up.
The place was ablaze with lights, like a machine polished to a spotless shine.
But inside that bright, gleaming machine were nothing but screws and corpses.
Chen Mo grinned and raised a hand to tug up the collar of his coat.
"Samaritan."
He repeated the name under his breath, continuing without pause straight into the night.
"Time for you to die."