Chapter 6: The Crestfallen Egghead, A Mission for Black Widow
Sure enough, the system notifications in his mind were going crazy.
Ding! Ding! Ding!
[Anger from New York citizens, Popularity +1500!]
[Sympathy from London netizens, Popularity +2000!]
[Support from Tokyo, Popularity +1800!]
[Spectators from China, Popularity +500!]
…Ahem, it seems the Chinese people are enjoying the show.
In short, the numbers on the panel were shooting up like a Rocket.
Awesome, absolutely awesome.
This Egghead is practically a walking cash cow.
Lin An even started calculating whether he should often stage these persecution dramas; this way of making money was much faster than fighting villains directly.
The atmosphere in the plaza, after a brief silence, completely exploded.
Reporters, like sharks smelling blood, instantly shoved their microphones into Fury's face, and the camera flashes were practically making his bald head reflect light.
"Director! Which department are you from? Are you really going to arrest the hero who saved Tony Stark?"
"In your eyes, is procedure more important than human life?"
"Are you jealous that the Vought International Superherostole your thunder? Is this government suppression of a private enterprise?"
"Move! Don't touch my camera!"
The long and short lenses were almost poking into Fury's nostrils.
The crowd on the perimeter also reacted. It was unclear who started it, but angry roars began to spread like a tsunami.
"Get out! Don't touch Homelander!"
"Shit, none of you are any good! Get the hell out of the U.S.!"
"You bunch of Vampire politicians! Let go of our hero!"
A few emotionally agitated young people even started pushing forward, attempting to break through the S.H.I.E.L.D. Agent defensive line.
Mineral water bottles and unfinished hot dogs were used as weapons and thrown at those black-suited Agents.
The Agents nervously gripped their guns but didn't dare to draw them.
This was a global live broadcast; if they dared to draw their guns on the public at a time like this, their department would be drowned in angry spit by tomorrow.
Fury's face was as dark as the bottom of a pot.
His one eye stared fixedly at Lin An's outstretched hands, his molars grinding together with a rattling sound.
He naturally saw that this bastard was acting!
The file clearly stated that this guy was an extremely narcissistic, short-tempered, dangerous individual. A giant baby raised in a greenhouse by Vought International.
How did he suddenly become so good at inciting people?
This was no tragic hero; this was a man-eating Beastdraped in the Stars and Stripes!
But he couldn't arrest him.
If he dared to take out a pair of handcuffs and put them on this bastard's hands now, he wouldn't even need to wait until tomorrow; the politicians in Washington would tear down his S.H.I.E.L.D. just to appease the public anger.
"Director."
An Agent in a black suit with a slightly dangerous hairline squeezed next to Fury, covered in sweat.
It was Coulson.
Coulson dodged a flying mineral water bottle, handed a tablet to Fury, and lowered his voice, his tone revealing undisguised panic.
"Director, the online public opinion is completely out of control. The top ten trending topics on Twitter are all cursing us. The White House just called, and the President's Chief of Staff is demanding we immediately stop this PR disaster."
Fury looked down at the screen.
It was full of unbearable abuse, and some people even started doxxing the Agents present, threatening to mail them bombs.
He lost.
In this plaza surrounded by spotlights and cameras, his proud Agent tactics and the power hidden in the shadows were worth absolutely nothing.
Lin An watched Fury's ugly expression and was overjoyed.
How about that, black Egghead? Times have changed.
Now is the era where traffic is king.
Do you still want to use that nineties routine on me?
As long as my Popularity is high enough, as long as I stand on the moral high ground.
Even if I twisted your bald head off and kicked it like a ball in front of the whole World, someone would help me spin it, saying I did it for justice.
"Director Fury, not arresting me anymore?" Lin An still maintained his hands-outstretched posture, his tone extremely innocent. "My hands are sore from holding them up. Or is it that you didn't bring handcuffs when you left the house?"
Tony sneered from the side, mercilessly twisting the knife.
"Does he dare to arrest you? If he dares to touch a hair on your head, the Stark Industries legal team will sue them until they can't even afford their underwear tomorrow."
"I will personally buy the land their headquarters is on and build a public toilet."
Fury looked at Lin An deeply.
His one eye surged with extreme wariness and cold malice.
He knew that today he had become a complete Joker, a stepping stone on this Superhero's path to godhood.
This guy named John was ten thousand times more dangerous than any superpowered individual he had ever dealt with.
"Retreat."
Fury squeezed these two words through his teeth and turned abruptly.
His black trench coat cut a stiff arc through the air.
The S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents, as if granted amnesty, quickly pulled back their defensive line and retreated in embarrassment into those three Suburban SUVs.
Engines roaring, the three cars backed out in the same crestfallen way they had arrogantly driven in.
A deafening cheer erupted in the plaza.
"Homelander! Homelander! Hero!"
The public chanted his name, as if he had just won a holy war defending humanity.
Lin An lowered his hands and once again flashed that sunny, perfect smile at the camera, pointing his finger at the crowd.
"No, I am not a hero; those of you who bravely stood up to resist are the true heroes!"
Woohoo!
Another wave of understanding cheers erupted from below.
Fleeceing this wool felt so good; he was almost reluctant to see Fury leave just like that.
But it didn't matter; the Marvel Universe was never short of self-righteous smart people like this.
…Washington, D.C., Triskelion headquarters.
Fury stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling window, looking at the brightly lit city outside.
The lights were not on in the office, and half of his face was hidden in the darkness, appearing exceptionally grim.
The screen on his desk was still looping that scene from the plaza earlier that day.
That man in the Stars and Stripes spandex was acting compassionate in front of the camera, rubbing S.H.I.E.L.D.into the ground.
"Director." Coulson stood in the shadows, his voice somewhat dry.
"The Vought International PR department has already packaged this incident as a classic case of a hero standing up against rigid bureaucracy.
Homelander's approval rating has skyrocketed by 400% in the past three hours. We are extremely passive right now, and the Council has also sent a letter of inquiry."
Fury did not turn back.
He knew too well how terrifying such a monster, who possessed absolute power and knew how to manipulate human hearts, could be.
A head-on collision wouldn't work, and they couldn't win the public opinion war either.
This Homelander was practically born specifically to counter S.H.I.E.L.D.
"Conventional methods are useless against him." Fury's voice was as cold as ice. "He likes the spotlight, likes being worshipped. Then we'll find him some private space."
He turned around, his one eye flashing with a dangerous light.
"Contact Natasha. Tell her, her vacation in Budapest is over." Fury walked to the desk and pressed a button for an encrypted channel.
"Forge a perfect identity for her. I want her to infiltrate the Vought International headquarters as fast as possible."
Coulson was taken aback: "Have her approach Homelander? But Director, that guy's danger assessment…"
"I know what he's thinking." Fury interrupted Coulson.
"Men, especially men like this who have suddenly gained immense power and think they are gods, always have weaknesses.
Doesn't he like playing the perfect savior?"
The fluorescent light from the screen illuminated Fury's cold mouth.
"Have her find a way to approach Homelander, to become the person closest to Homelander. I want to know what this monster is actually afraid of. I want his most fatal leverage. S.H.I.E.L.D. must have the means to handle such a dangerous person!"
Chapter 7: The Agreement with Tony, Cleaning Up the Higher-Ups!
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s black motorcade disappeared around the corner in a sorry state, while the cheers in Vought Square were loud enough to nearly blow the clouds off Manhattan.
Countless camera flashes illuminated the area, making it even brighter and more blinding than the middle of the day.
Tony Stark dragged his heavy, scrap-metal suit over.
He reached up to wipe the sweat, mixed with motor oil and sand, from his face. Although his tone remained as cynical as ever, the way he looked at Lin An had completely changed.
"Seriously, bro." Tony smacked his lips.
"The way you stood up to that guy just now was exactly what I wanted to see. The thing I hate most in this life is a bunch of politicians who take taxpayers' money and love to point fingers everywhere."
He laboriously raised a mechanical arm and pointed at Lin An.
"To celebrate my escape from that hellhole that didn't even have a toilet, and to thank you for the ride that nearly shook my guts out, how about coming to my Malibu Villatonight? I'll call up a few dozen Victoria's Secret supermodels and throw the best party ever. Champagne, pool, and you know what else. Consider it a small token of gratitude to my savior."
Lin An's heart skipped a beat.
Victoria's Secret supermodels? Pool party?
In his previous life, he was just a miserable wage slave who dreamed of experiencing this kind of ultimate capitalist decadence.
He almost blurted out, "Immediately! Right now! At once!"
But he forcefully swallowed those three words back down.
Now was not the time for indulgence.
Those old fogies at Vought International were definitely sharpening their knives in the shadows. Today, he had not only crossed the border without authorization but also stolen the spotlight in front of the entire World.
Unless he trampled this group of Vampires completely underfoot, he would be subjected to finger-pointing whenever he wanted to do anything in the future.
More importantly, in front of Tony, this super fat sheep, he had to maintain his persona of being glorious, upright, and righteous to the end.
Only by making him feel like he owed him a massive favor could Stark Industries' technology and capital be continuously used for his own purposes in the future.
"My friend." Lin An reached out and gently patted Tony's dust-covered shoulder. The smile on his face faded, replaced by a deep, serious expression. "That sounds very tempting, but I have to say no."
Tony was stunned.
"Why? Don't tell me you have to rush back to write some damn action report for Vought International."
Lin An sighed, his gaze passing over the crowd and landing on the two towering skyscrapers in the distance: Vought Tower and Stark Tower.
"Your Stark Industries is likely facing a major earthquake right now. Those board members who wanted to see you die in Afghanistan are sitting in their offices waiting for you to return so they can settle the score. You have a lot of trouble to deal with."
Lin An withdrew his gaze and looked Tony straight in the eyes.
"And things aren't easy on my end either. The stubborn old men at Vought International are quite dissatisfied with my behavior today—ignoring orders and running off to Afghanistan to save you without permission. I have a tough battle to fight. Once we've each cleaned out the rats in our own homes, we can get together properly."
Tony stared fixedly at Lin An.
In his life, he had seen too many hypocritical politicians and profit-driven businessmen.
Those people approached him solely for Stark Industries' money and weapons.
But the man in front of him, to save him, had acted not for profit, risked defying the orders of the massive capital group behind him, and was now even going back to face the fury of the higher-ups alone.
What a good man.
Tony pounded his iron armor hard, emitting a dull metallic clank.
"John." Tony had just specifically looked up information on Homelander; he didn't use that flamboyant code name, but instead used Lin An's name. "You're my brother, I, Tony Stark, have decided that. If those old fogies at Vought International dare to give you a hard time, call me anytime. Worst case, I'll just buy them out and make you the boss!"
A faint, imperceptible curve tugged at the corner of Lin An's mouth.
This tsundere billionaire is quite sensible. You kid, you've really broadened your path!
"It's a deal."
Lin An waved at him and slightly bent his knees.
Boom!
The hard marble floor of the square instantly cracked and collapsed. Lin An transformed into a blue and red streak of light, shooting into the sky, leaving a deafening sonic boom cloud over New York as he headed straight for Vought Tower.
...
The 82nd floor of Vought Tower, the Supreme Board of Directors meeting room.
The space was vast and luxurious.
Beside a long, oval mahogany conference table sat seven or eight old men in suits.
On the projection screen that covered the entire wall, footage of Lin An accepting the crowd's cheers in the square was playing on a loop.
Madelyn stood at the end of the conference table, her face pale, not daring to let out a breath.
Sitting in the main seat was the actual helmsman of Vought International, Stan Edgar.
He wore gold-rimmed glasses, his hands crossed on the table, his expression as cold as ten-thousand-year-old black ice.
"Madelyn, is this what you guaranteed me—that 'everything is under control'?" Edgar's voice was not loud, yet it carried an intense sense of oppression. "He not only crossed the border without authorization, causing an international dispute, but also openly provoked S.H.I.E.L.D.. Who does he think he is? The real God?"
Madelyn broke out in a cold sweat and hurriedly defended herself: "But sir, our stock price has risen by thirty percent in the last two hours! Homelander's approval rating has broken its all-time high, and the public is completely on our side..."
"I don't want an uncontrollable celebrity!"
A fat board member sitting on the left slammed the table, his jowls shaking violently.
"He is a product! He is an asset that we spent billions of dollars on, cultivated in a laboratory with serums! An asset should stay quietly in the display window and only move when we give the order!"
The fat board member became more agitated as he spoke, his spit flying everywhere.
"Today he dares to go to Afghanistan to save someone without permission; tomorrow he might fly into the White House to give a speech! We must teach him a lesson. I propose we activate the backup suppression protocol, withhold all of his public relations dividends for this year, and let him understand who the master providing his meals is!"
Boom!!!
Just as the fat board member finished speaking, the heavy bulletproof oak door of the conference room, along with half of the wall, collapsed inward without warning!
Debris and wood splinters flew everywhere like cannonballs, smashing into the expensive leather chairs.
Amidst the swirling dust, Lin An walked in, stepping over the ruins.
The Stars and Stripes cape behind him swayed gently. He still wore that sunny smile he showed in front of the cameras, but there wasn't a trace of warmth in his azure eyes.
"I think I just heard someone talking bad about me behind my back."
Lin An casually brushed the dust off his shoulder and strode towards the conference table.
The conference room fell into instant silence.
Several board members who had just been clamoring to punish him were so scared that they sprang up from their chairs and backed away repeatedly, looking at him as if they were staring at a T-Rex that had suddenly broken into a sheepfold.
Lin An sneered inwardly.
Scared already? Where did that tough attitude go, the one about wanting to keep me on a leash like a dog?
Edgar remained seated in the main seat, his expression unchanged.
He looked at Lin An coldly, his tone carrying the arrogance of someone who had long occupied a position of power.
"John, you shouldn't be here. This is the Supreme Board of Directors; without a summons, you have no right to enter."
"No right?"
Lin An pulled out a chair, sat down imposingly, and propped his legs, clad in red combat boots, directly onto the priceless mahogany tabletop.
"Someone said I'm a product? And you want to withhold my dividends?"
He turned his head, his gaze locking tightly onto the fat board member who had slammed the table earlier.
The fat board member felt his blood freeze as he was stared at by those eyes.
But relying on his past experience of controlling the original owner, he roared with a fierce exterior but a cowardly heart: "You... don't you dare! You signed a contract! Your image rights and action rights are all in the company's hands! Without us, you are nothing!"
"Contract."
Lin An chewed on these two words and couldn't help but laugh out loud.
He stood up and leisurely walked over to the fat board member.
These capitalists had been living in comfort for too long. The illusion of manipulating everything from behind the scenes made them think that a few pieces of scrap paper could restrain a god capable of tearing an aircraft carrier apart with his bare hands.
A few mere mortals—who gave them the confidence?
"Do you think a piece of paper can block my Heat Vision?" Lin An leaned in close to the fat board member, his voice extremely low.
The fat board member swallowed hard, forcing himself not to back away: "You wouldn't dare. Vought Internationalholds the secret to your origin..."
Before he could finish his sentence.
Lin An suddenly reached out and grabbed him by his fat nape.
There was no scorching laser, nor any flashy moves.
Lin An simply lifted him into mid-air with pure physical strength, like picking up a broiler chicken waiting to be slaughtered.
"Let... let me go!"
The fat board member kicked his legs wildly in the air, his hands clutching Lin An's arm in an attempt to break free, but that arm remained as motionless as reinforced concrete.
His face quickly turned purple, and his eyes were about to pop out.
Lin An ignored his struggling and instead turned to look at Edgar and the other board members.
"Did you all get one thing wrong?"
Lin An's voice echoed in the spacious conference room, carrying undisguised mockery.
"You think you created me, so you are the creators. But in reality, you just happened to find a nuclear bomb on the side of the road, and then naively thought that by sticking a barcode on it, you could sell it as a firework."
He slightly increased the force in his hand.
Crack.
An extremely crisp sound of a neck bone breaking rang out.
The fat board member's struggling stopped instantly. His massive head slumped down at an unnatural angle, and he was tossed onto the carpet by Lin An like a sack of rags.
Chapter 8: Controlling Vought International, System Upgrade!
The fat board member's corpse hit the carpet, emitting a sickening, teeth-grinding thud.
The conference room fell into a deathly silence for a second.
Immediately after, several old men in suits screamed and bolted from their chairs, scrambling toward the door, not even bothering to pick up the chairs they knocked over.
"Stop him! Security! Call security, now!"
Edgar stood up abruptly, his face, usually as cold as an iceberg, finally cracking.
He pointed at Lin An, his voice distorted by extreme anger and a trace of uncontrollable fear: "John! You're insane! What do you think you're doing? The genetic locks in your body..."
"Stop trying to scare me with that laboratory garbage of yours."
Lin An interrupted him; with the system in his hands, he had nothing to fear.
He didn't even bother to glance at Edgar, his eyes instantly filled with a scorching crimson.
Sizzle—!
Two beams of crimson Heat Vision, as thick as an adult's arm, swept out.
There were no screams, no struggles.
The four board members running to the door were instantly severed at the waist, their upper bodies sliding to the floor, the flesh at the wounds carbonized by the terrifying high temperature, not even a single drop of blood spilled.
The smell of burnt, charred meat instantly filled the entire space.
Edgar froze in place, looking at the severed limbs covering the floor, his lips trembling violently as he reached out to press some alarm under the table.
Lin An turned his head, locking his gaze onto him.
"Don't be a wicked capitalist in your next life; it's easy to end up strung from a lamppost."
A flash of red light.
Edgar's head exploded like a watermelon hit by a sledgehammer.
The headless corpse swayed for a moment before thumping onto the expensive mahogany table, blood dripping down the edge of the table onto the carpet.
The entire supreme board of directors had been physically wiped out in less than a minute.
The red light in Lin An's eyes gradually faded; he tugged at his Stars and Stripes cape and turned to look at the corner of the conference room.
Madelyn was huddled in that corner, one of her high heels missing.
She clamped her hands over her mouth, her face covered in tears and snot, shivering as if she had been soaked in ice water for three days and nights.
Her much-vaunted power plays, schemes, and the psychological tricks used to control Superheroes were nothing in front of this monster who could burn people to ash on a whim.
Lin An walked up to her, looking down at her from a height.
"Madelyn."
Hearing her name, Madelyn's legs gave out, and she knelt directly onto the carpet stained with bone fragments and ash.
"Don't kill me... please, don't kill me!"
Her voice was as raspy as sandpaper rubbing together, her forehead pressed tightly against the floor, "I'll do whatever you say! The passwords for Vought International, the overseas accounts, the public relations channels... I know them all! I'm still useful!!"
Lin An looked at her extremely humble appearance and sneered internally.
This woman was indeed a good dog; as long as you scared the wits out of her, she would be more vicious than anyone when biting others, making her the perfect tool for taking over the company.
"Stand up and wipe your face."
Lin An pulled over the only intact leather chair and sat down, "From now on, I call the shots at Vought International. You are still the president, but you report only to me. If I say go east and you dare to go west, you'll die with these old fossils. Do you understand?"
"Yes! I understand! I am willing to serve you!"
Madelyn, as if granted amnesty, scrambled up, wiping the filth from her face haphazardly, not daring to even glance at the corpses on the ground.
Lin An leaned back in the chair, looking at the ceiling.
Edgar's headless corpse was still dripping blood, the blood thumping onto the floor along the edge of the table.
Vought International was now completely his.
Those shady overseas accounts, the global public relations channels, and the mutant serums still being developed in the labs—all of it had become his private property.
But this was not enough.
He leaned back against the wide leather backrest, his fingers rhythmically tapping on the armrest.
Putting aside the high-stakes game over on the Marvelside, there was still a septic tank in his own backyard that could explode at any moment.
The Boys.
Billy Butcher, that mad dog biting people all over the World; Frenchie, that psycho who could build anything from bombs to viruses; and Hughie Campbell, that electronics store clerk who looked weak but was actually rotten to the core.
If these people, just like in the original story, hid in the shadows digging up dirt on him every day and stuffing C4 explosives up his ass, how would he have the energy to earn popularity points around the World?
His current source of power relied entirely on public adoration.
If these mad dogs exposed all the rotten things the original owner had done—rape, murder, treating airplanes like toys—his popularity points would definitely hit zero instantly.
Without popularity points, in this World where monsters were everywhere, he wouldn't even count as a high-level soldier.
He had to suppress these people in advance.
The question was, how far had the plot progressed? Had Starlight, that glowing lightbulb, joined The Seven yet? Was Hughie's girlfriend dead?
"Madelyn," Lin An called out without turning his head.
"You have thirty minutes to notify The Seven to get over here immediately."
Madelyn, shivering in the corner, jolted and quickly scrambled up.
...
20 minutes later, the damaged oak door of the conference room was pushed open from the outside.
Queen Maeve walked in at the front, followed by The Deep, A-Train, Translucent, and Black Noir.
They had originally thought this was just a routine crisis management meeting.
But as soon as they stepped through the door, a thick, pungent smell of blood rushed into their nostrils.
The Deep saw the half-corpse of the fat board member on the carpet at a glance, intestines spilling out next to the chair leg.
His stomach churned violently, and he knelt in the corner, dry-heaving, almost vomiting up his bile.
A-Train was so scared he retreated three steps, his legs weak, gripping the doorframe tightly to barely keep from collapsing to the floor.
His eyes, usually restless and anxious, were wide open now, filled with terror.
Queen Maeve's face instantly turned as white as paper.
She stared fixedly at Lin An, who was sitting in the main seat with Edgar's corpse under his feet, her breathing becoming extremely rapid.
[Ding! Detected that the host has completely taken control of the large superpower organization 'Vought International', hidden achievement unlocked.]
[New function: Capitalist's Gift. For emotion points obtained by artists under the host in front of the public, the system will provide the host with popularity commissions based on the hero's abilities; the stronger the ability, the higher the commission feedback.]
[Note 1: Ability is not limited to strength, but also includes popularity traffic.]
[Note 2: If an artist under the host generates negative news, popularity points will be deducted.]
The crisp mechanical sound in his mind made Lin An's fingers, which were tapping on the armrest, stop abruptly.
He stared at the Translucent blue panel before him, his chest heaving violently, forcing down the corners of his mouth that were threatening to curl up wildly.
He was rich.
This was the proper way to use the system!
Before, he had been worried about those top-tier abilities in the store that cost tens of millions.
Relying solely on himself flying in the sky every day and grabbing headlines, how long would it take to save up enough?
Chapter 9: Superhero KPI Assessments
Well, that's better.
He raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the bunch of losers in front of him who were so scared they were about to wet their pants.
These aren't superhumans; they're clearly a bunch of cyber-slaves waiting to be fed.
As long as I send them out to work while I sit in my office with the air conditioning on, I can continuously reap the commission from their popularity points.
Why would I want to slave away on my own when it feels so good to be a heartless boss taking a cut?
Sorry, I take back what I just said; being an evil capitalist is truly satisfying!
Lin An swept his gaze over The Seven, and the system popped up the commission rates for each individual.
Translucent — 10%.
A-Train — 15%.
Maeve — 20%.
The Deep — 10%.
Black Noir — 20%.
Dammit, this bunch of losers in The Seven are really pathetic, Lin An cursed inwardly.
Forget it, it's better than nothing. When I get the chance, I must sign all the high-traffic experts from Marvel to Vought International!
I'll have the Avengers all working for my Vought International!
Lin An collected his thoughts, and a smile returned to his face.
"Don't be afraid, guys."
But in this slaughterhouse, that smile was even more chilling than a demon's.
"Those old bastards treated us like cash cows and puppets every day, and they were always pulling disgusting stunts behind our backs."
Lin An pointed to the headless corpse on the ground.
"Now, they're gone. From now on, I'm in charge of Vought International, and we can be righteous Superheroes with peace of mind."
Translucent swallowed hard and replied dryly.
"Yes... yes, Boss, you're in charge."
"Since the company is under my management, things have to be done by my rules."
Lin An stood up, stepped through the pool of blood, and walked toward them step by step. With every step he took, The Deep shrank further into the corner.
"First, absolute justice." Lin An stopped in front of The Deep, grabbed his green scaled bodysuit, and lifted him up.
"All that messy crap from before—the unspoken rules, the senseless killing of innocents, and those disgusting fetishes you have for marine life."
Lin An stared into The Deep's terrified eyes. "From today on, keep it all to yourself. If anyone dares to leak even a hint of scandal that affects the company's image and traffic..."
He glanced at the severed limbs on the ground.
"I will personally send him to meet Edgar."
"I swear! I will never touch an aquarium dolphin again in my life!" The Deep was so scared that tears came out, and he nodded frantically.
Lin An threw him back to the ground like trash and turned to look at the others.
"Second, get busy. Everyone has to meet their KPIs."
Lin An tapped the table, his voice rising.
"Starting tomorrow, everyone goes on missions. Catch robbers, put out fires, even if it's just saving a damn cat from a tree! And you must bring a PR team on every mission; there must be cameras following you!"
"A rescue without exposure is an ineffective rescue! I want each of your names firmly pinned to the Twitter trending list every single day!"
"If you don't meet your performance targets, you'll be in for a world of hurt!"
The conference room was deathly quiet, save for The Deep's stifled sobs.
Maeve gritted her teeth and spoke up, bracing herself.
"John, we are heroes, not circus monkeys." She furrowed her brows, her tone filled with suppressed anger. "Saving people is the right thing to do, and I support that, but doing it for show with cameras is disgusting."
Lin An turned his head and looked at her.
"For show?" He sneered, stepped in front of Maeve, and stared down at her.
"Vought International doesn't support idlers! If you don't act like a star, don't take commercials, and don't put on a show, how is the company supposed to make money?" Lin An's words were extremely realistic.
"How do you think you got that Manhattan penthouse duplex you live in? Where do you think those thousands-of-dollars-a-bottle wines you drink come from? Do you think they were conjured up by your pathetic sense of justice?"
Maeve was forced to take a half-step back by the oppressive aura radiating from him, her face flushing red.
"Without traffic, you're worth less than a dog. If we don't make money, what am I going to use to pay your salaries?"
Lin An extended his finger and poked hard at the metal armor on her chest.
"Drop that hypocritical holier-than-thou attitude. Starting tomorrow, get out on the streets and smile for the cameras. Do you understand? Don't make me repeat myself!"
Maeve opened her mouth, completely choked up.
She wanted to retort, but the expensive bills, the lavish lifestyle, and the corpses on the floor before her made her swallow all her words.
She realized with sorrow that she had long been kidnapped by capital.
Lin An couldn't be bothered to pay her any more attention and turned to look at A-Train, who was leaning against the doorframe.
This kid was the root of all evil in the plot of The Boys.
"A-Train."
"Yes! I'm here!" A-Train straightened up abruptly, cold sweat streaming down his black cheeks. He didn't even dare to look Lin An in the eye.
Lin An narrowed his eyes and looked him up and down.
This guy had sunken eye sockets, and his body was still twitching uncontrollably; it was obvious he had just taken Compound V.
"I'm going to ask you something." Lin An's voice was very soft, yet it carried a bone-chilling coldness. "Have you accidentally killed anyone on the street recently?"
A-Train's body trembled violently.
His eyes began to dart around frantically, his lips trembling, and he couldn't squeeze out a complete sentence for a long time.
"I... I... I didn't mean to..." A-Train stammered in his defense, his voice growing quieter.
"There was a robbery at the time, I was running too fast, I didn't see clearly... She was standing by the curb, I couldn't stop..."
It's over.
Lin An cursed inwardly.
This bastard had indeed already turned Robin into a mist of blood.
The plot had already begun.
Hughie, that honest guy, was probably holding his girlfriend's two severed hands on the street right now, weeping, with the seeds of revenge planted in his heart.
Offending Hughie was equivalent to provoking all of Butcher's mad dogs.
Although these people didn't have superpowers, they were top-notch at causing destruction and digging up dirt.
If they let them expose all his past dirty laundry, the popularity points he had worked so hard to accumulate would definitely plummet.
This ticking time bomb had to be defused immediately.
Lin An's expression turned completely gloomy.
A dangerous red light faintly flickered in his eyes.
Seeing that flash of red light, A-Train's legs went weak from fear, and he knelt directly on the ground.
"Boss! I was wrong! The PR department has already gone to handle it! They said that as long as we pay some money and sign a non-disclosure agreement, it absolutely won't affect the company's image!" A-Train clutched his head, begging incoherently.
"Pay money?" Lin An sneered.
Do you think money can buy everything? For someone who has lost their beloved, a few tens of thousands of dollars in hush money is simply a second insult.
This would only cause Hughie to completely darken and join Butcher's camp without hesitation.
Just then, the sound of rapid high heels came from outside the conference room.
Madelyn appeared at the door, trembling.
She clutched a tablet computer tightly in her hand, trying hard not to look at the corpses on the ground, her voice trembling.
"Jo... Boss." Madelyn swallowed hard and corrected her address. "The front desk just called with an emergency. A young man has broken into the lobby, and he's been shouting and screaming."
Lin An put away the red light in his eyes and turned to look at her.
"What's his name?"
"Hughie Campbell." Madelyn looked at the information on the tablet, her face looking ugly. "He said A-Train killed his girlfriend. He doesn't want our compensation; he wants to demand an explanation in person."
PS: Some people say Lin An is fawning over the plot protagonists. I'll reiterate: Lin An's morality is like Gojo Satoru's passive ability. All the core characters in the plot are there to serve Lin An's interests. Anyone who has read carefully wouldn't say Lin An is fawning; Hughie and Butcher are just leashes to restrain the superpowered individuals. If you don't read carefully and just come here to spray hate, I didn't ask you to read it anyway...
Chapter 10: Appeasing Hughie
Hughie Campbell.
The red glow that had just faded from Lin An's eyes nearly flared up again.
Damn it.
This time bomb had finally gone off after all.
He gritted his back teeth, his gaze like two venom-tipped ice picks, stabbing fiercely at A-Train, who was kneeling on the ground.
This useless waste of space! He got so high on drugs that he turned someone into paste, and now the person involved has come knocking!
A-Train shuddered under his gaze, a wave of warmth instantly spreading through his crotch, and a pungent, foul stench permeated the air, mixing with the scent of blood.
He had actually pissed himself.
"Pay money? Sign a non-disclosure agreement?" Looking at his pathetic, spineless appearance, Lin An was so angry he nearly laughed out loud.
Where is your brain? If you had honestly used a few million to shut him up, that would be one thing, but giving him just a few thousand dollars? Who are you trying to fool?
This isn't compensation at all; this is slapping him across the face with cash, telling him: Your girlfriend's life is only worth this much.
This kind of arrogantly stupid PR tactic will only cause Hughie Campbell to go completely dark, only to be easily picked up by that lunatic Butcher, turning him into a knife aimed right at my own backside.
No.
I absolutely cannot let Butcher get his hands on Hughie.
These rats hiding in the gutters are the biggest obstacle to establishing my global idol image.
I must firmly grasp this crucial piece before they can form into a threat.
Lin An's thoughts raced; the gloom on his face instantly dissipated, replaced by a perfectly calibrated smile that carried a hint of exhaustion and compassion.
He turned to look at Madelyn at the door, his voice gentle yet unquestionable: "Madelyn, do not leave our guest downstairs. Invite him to my office... No, invite him directly here."
"Here?" Madelyn looked at the body parts and blood covering the floor, her voice trembling, "Boss, is it... appropriate to have him here? It will scare a normal person."
"That is exactly why he needs to see it," Lin An's smile remained unchanged, "Let him see that the corrupt old Vought International has already been cleaned up."
He wanted Hughie to witness his "reforms" and "sincerity" with his own eyes.
Madelyn dared not ask any more questions and scrambled out as fast as she could.
The conference room fell into a deathly silence once again. The Deep was still in the corner suppressing dry heaves, and Queen Mei looked at Lin An with a pale face, her eyes filled with extreme complexity.
She completely failed to understand this man. One second he was a ruthless tyrant, and the next he was like a populist leader preparing to appease the masses.
Lin An ignored them, walking over to the only intact leather chair at the head of the table and sitting back down.
He even had the leisure to pull a silk handkerchief from his pocket and slowly wipe off a bit of brain matter that had accidentally splattered onto his boots.
A few minutes later, a thin figure appeared at the ruined doorway of the conference room.
Hughie Campbell had arrived.
He was wearing a faded plaid shirt, his face still streaked with tears, and his bloodshot eyes, wide with terror and grief, widened even further as he took in the scene inside the conference room.
Blood.
There was blood everywhere.
Severed limbs, charred body parts, and a massive, headless body slumped over the conference table, blood still dripping from it.
The stench in the air, a mixture of burnt meat and the smell of blood, made his stomach churn violently.
And in the center of this hell on earth, the Superhero who had saved Tony Stark on live television just that afternoon—Homelander—was sitting gracefully on a throne-like chair, watching him with a smile.
The impact of this scene was simply too overwhelming.
Hughie's mind went blank.
What was going on? Why was the hero who saved the World sitting in the middle of a pile of corpses? Who killed these people? Could it be... could he be a murderer too?
But this afternoon, he clearly...
Hughie's heart was in complete chaos. He didn't know if the man before him was an Angel or a devil.
He only knew that he could not back down. Robin's voice and smile were still before his eyes; those hands, left lying alone on the street after being severed, were a nightmare he would never be able to shake for the rest of his life.
He took a deep breath, suppressed the urge to vomit in his throat, clenched his fists, and dug his nails deep into his palms.
"You..." Hughie's voice was slightly hoarse from nervousness, but he mustered all his courage, looking straight into Lin An's eyes, "A-Train... he killed my girlfriend, Robin."
His gaze shifted past Lin An, locking tightly onto the trembling black speedster kneeling on the ground.
"Your people, the people from Vought International, wanted to brush me off with money." Hughie's eyes reddened, his voice filled with uncontrollable anger and choked sobs, "They think a human life can be settled for just a few thousand dollars. I don't want your money! I don't want your dirty money!"
Like a young beast cornered, he let out a desperate roar: "I just want an explanation! I need justice! A life for a life; he must pay the price for what he did!"
Throughout the conference room, only his sorrowful and angry voice echoed.
The other members of The Seven looked at him with the eyes of someone looking at a dead man.
A regular person actually daring to yell in front of Homelander, who had just slaughtered the entire board of directors, was like a man hanging himself—he was tired of living.
However, Lin An's reaction once again exceeded everyone's expectations.
The smile on his face did not change in the slightest; instead, he stood up and walked slowly toward Hughie.
"I know," Lin An's voice was low and gentle, carrying a power that could soothe the heart, "I know your pain, Mr. Hughie Campbell. I also know how bastardly Vought International's previous actions were."
He stopped in front of Hughie, his azure eyes filled with sincere apology.
"I am very sorry that you had to experience all of this," Lin An said, "What you see here is the evidence."
He reached out and pointed to the corpses covering the floor.
"In the past, Vought International was controlled by a group of greedy, corrupt capitalists who treated human life like grass. In their eyes, your girlfriend's life was not even worth as much as a pretty stock price report. They not only exploited us Superheroes but also ignored the lives and deaths of ordinary people like you."
Lin An's tone became heavy, "Even I despised what they did. But I was helpless."
He withdrew his hand and looked directly into Hughie's eyes, his gaze becoming incomparably firm.
"However, from today on, everything is different."
"The old Vought International is dead. Now, this company is run by me. I promise you, Hughie, I will absolutely not let my fellow citizens be disheartened by this kind of bullshit ever again."
Hughie was completely stunned.
He had originally thought he would be met with a lethal laser blast, or be casually crushed to death by this temperamental man before him.
He had even prepared himself for death.
Yet what he received was a sincere apology and a promise.
The true god who had been saving billionaires in the sky just this afternoon was standing right in front of him, telling him that he understood his pain and that he would seek justice for him.
The huge contrast left Hughie momentarily bewildered.
He looked into Lin An's seemingly sincere eyes, and tentatively, almost instinctively, voiced his innermost demand.
"I... I want him... to face the judgment of the law."
He pointed at A-Train, who was still trembling on the ground, and said, enunciating every word.
Lin An smiled.
This was exactly the sentence he wanted.
He clapped his hands sharply, the crisp sound ringing out unusually loud in the deathly silent conference room.
"Madelyn."
Madelyn, who had been cowering at the door, jumped and hurried over.
Lin An didn't even look back at her; he just stared at Hughie and issued the order in a tone that declared a final judgment.
"Take A-Train to the Police station! Send him to prison! Judge him however the law demands! If he dares to run, I will hunt him down to the ends of the earth and break his legs."