The factory's rusted iron doors were kicked open from the outside.
Electro-Claw, having seized power as the leader of the Awakened Mutual Aid Society, charged in first, his body wreathed in crackling electricity.
"Monster! Come out and die!"
Behind him, fifteen "Avengers" flooded in, various abilities poised and ready.
They saw those grotesque steel sculptures.
But the flames of vengeance had long since stripped them of the capacity for appreciation or fear.
In their eyes, these were nothing more than a madman's graffiti.
A figure slowly stepped out from the shadows of the "Weeping Madonna" statue.
Still wearing that worn-out trench coat, still possessing that gaunt, skeletal appearance.
"That's him!"
"Kill him!"
Electro-Claw did not hesitate in the slightest, thrusting both arms forward!
A thick torrent of lightning roared toward The Deconstructionist!
Facing this strike, The Deconstructionist merely extended a single finger.
The torrent of lightning came to an abrupt halt less than a meter from his body.
The charges constituting the lightning were forcibly neutralized, and the violent energy was stripped away.
Under Electro-Claw's disbelieving gaze, the thunderbolt transformed into a harmless, brilliant band of light composed of countless photons.
"Attack together!"
A team member capable of manipulating Fire roared, shooting two dragons of flame from his hands.
A strength-based powered individual cracked the concrete beneath his feet and charged forward like a heavy tank.
The Deconstructionist frowned in disgust.
Too noisy.
Too vulgar.
The Deconstructionist lost his last shred of patience.
He would use the flesh and blood of these blasphemers to add a new collection to his sanctuary.
"Ahhh!"
Piercing screams rose and fell one after another.
One team member watched in terror as his own arm—the hard bone being forcibly extracted from his flesh—turned into streams of White light flying into mid-air!
Another team member's body became like a leaking waterskin.
The Water inside him was separated, and in a few seconds, he turned into a dried corpse!
Electro-Claw watched helplessly as his companions were "deconstructed" in the most cruel and inconceivable way.
The last scene he saw was the flesh, bones, and metal accessories of himself and all his companions...
Everything converging in the air into a writhing mixture of flesh and blood.
That mixture was eventually molded by the will of The Deconstructionist into a throne... made of flesh and White bone.
The Deconstructionist slowly walked forward and sat down on that throne, which exuded a rich scent of blood.
He wanted the entire World to see.
The consequence of resisting him was not death.
It was not even having the qualification to become dust.
...
Vought's media machine once again defined this massacre as "infighting and self-destruction of a super-powered terrorist organization."
"Expert Analysis: Out-of-Control Super-Powered Individuals Have Become Society's Biggest Cancer!"
Under the packaging of Dr. Hannibal Lecter, The Deconstructionist's image became increasingly mysterious and unfathomable; some netizens even believed he was 'acting on behalf of heaven' to clean up social trash."
He was tired of these stupid ants.
A familiar sense of emptiness surged; he needed a grander stage, a canvas worthy of his current status.
Dr. Hannibal Lecter's voice arrived on cue.
"They don't understand you."
"Because they themselves are part of the lie."
"You should go to a place that houses the most exquisite and magnificent lies of humanity over thousands of years."
He handed a photograph to The Deconstructionist.
New York, The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
"Go, and offer the most magnificent elegy for this hypocritical beauty."
...
Three days later, in the dead of a night with pouring rain.
The sins and prosperity of New York were washed away and blurred by this heavy rain.
The Deconstructionist appeared before the magnificent main entrance of The Metropolitan Museum of Art.
He extended his pale hand and gently stroked the stone wall, which was dampened by the rain.
As if caressing a lover's cheek.
The next day, the rain cleared and the sky turned sunny.
The museum opened its doors to visitors as usual.
Everything seemed so normal, until the first scream pierced the tranquility of the exhibition hall.
An art student intended to copy Van Gogh's "Wheat Field with Cypresses," but at this moment, she pointed at the canvas in terror, her lips trembling.
On that World-renowned masterpiece, the thick, colorful oil paint was peeling and curling off in flakes, like dried mud.
The Greek and Roman Sculpture Gallery.
On an Athena marble statue, hailed as the "beauty of tranquility," a painful human face had actually emerged on its holy and noble visage.
The most terrifying scene occurred in the Egypt gallery.
A white-haired curator, having received the report, rushed over; he stumbled and knelt before a Pharaoh's sarcophagus, tears streaming down his old face.
That sarcophagus, which had withstood three thousand years of time and was meant to symbolize Eternity and immortality, was oozing dark red liquid that snaked and flowed across its surface.
The entire cultural circle of New York completely collapsed.
The color of panic replaced the prosperity of the past.
Lynn Morris stood before the window, holding a glass of amber whiskey in his hand; the ice cubes in the glass showed no sign of melting, just like him, exuding a constant indifference.
He overlooked his "masterpiece."
This city was being reshaped under his will into the form he desired.
Motoko Kusanagi appeared silently behind him.
"After the Metropolitan Museum of Art incident, the panic index in New York City has reached its peak."
"According to our model projections, the public's fear and hatred of out-of-control super-powered individuals will transform into an extreme thirst for strong order within the next forty-eight hours."
"Public opinion polls show that support for the amendment to the'Superhuman Compulsory Regulation Act' has soared to 87%."
"Our product is about to usher in its most perfect sales opportunity."
Lynn did not turn around, only gently swirled his glass.
"Very good."
To others, this was the precursor to the apocalypse.
To him, this was just a phased goal on a business plan about to be checked off.
Just then, an encrypted signal connected to Motoko Kusanagi's communication channel.
"It's Ada."
Lynn signaled for her to connect.
Ada Wong's voice, languid yet hiding a sharp edge, sounded out, with the faint hiss of static in the background.
"BOSS, our bait has caught a fish."
"Inside S.H.I.E.L.D., those old friends from HYDRA have become unusually active recently; they have shown extraordinary interest in The Deconstructionist."
Ada's voice paused.
"They believe this is a brand-new power that can be replicated and weaponized. Pierce has secretly established a special research group, codenamed 'Ouroboros,' and is frantically collecting all data related to The Deconstructionist."
This was what he was waiting for.
HYDRA, this group of paranoids hiding in the Shadow, obsessed with power and order, would never let go of any powerful force.
"Very good, Ada."
"Since they are so eager for knowledge, we shall generously give them some."
"You mean..."
"Give them some clues."
"Inadvertently leak some of the truth about The Deconstructionist's abilities to them."
"For example, that this power stems from the resonance between some rare cosmic rays and specific gene sequences."
"Or imply that it is a byproduct of some failed artificial deity project of Vought, requiring extremely harsh serum formulas and mental states to activate."
"In short, make them believe that this path exists, but it is very difficult to walk."
Ada Wong understood Lynn's intention.
This was ten thousand times more vicious than a direct confrontation.
This was to make HYDRA exhaust their most precious resources and time chasing an unattainable phantom on a dead-end road paved with lies.
"I understand, I will prepare a research report for them that is sufficiently magnificent and sufficiently complex."
The communication cut off.
Motoko Kusanagi looked at Lynn.
"Boss, you anticipated HYDRA's reaction from the very beginning."
"This is not anticipation, Motoko."
Lynn looked back out the window.
"This is human nature."
"When a pack of hungry wolves sees a sheep that can produce meat infinitely, their first reaction is never to wonder why this sheep exists, but how to make it their own."
"And I, merely handed them the wrong key."
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