Chapter 57 Capitalist x Jurist √
After a long, passionate kiss, Lin An whispered softly in her ear.
"Boss... here? Isn't that too shameful..."
She bit her lower lip, her voice as faint as a mosquito's buzz, her eyes filled with uneasy, watery light.
After all, this was an open-air beach with no cover; the feeling of being completely exposed made her want to flee immediately.
Lin An chuckled.
"Don't be nervous. I've already blocked off this beach; not even a fly can get in."
"Besides, with my super perception, there are no secrets within a ten-mile radius."
"If anyone dares to disobey me and sneak in..."
His voice turned cold abruptly.
"They will be melted into a puddle of boiling blood by my Heat Vision the very first moment."
She tilted her head back, the tension in her heart turning into a strange sense of excitement.
Starlight had completely fallen.
She closed her eyes, submissively surrendering herself to that irresistible gravitational pull.
The temperature climbed rapidly in the space between their bodies; even the surrounding sea breeze seemed to become scorching hot.
With the scorching sun overhead, the rattan of the lounge chair let out an unbearable creaking sound as it shook violently.
A dizzying, intoxicating feeling fermented in the air.
She was like a lone boat lost in a storm, able only to cling tightly to the indestructible island before her.
...
The next day.
The sun in Hawaii was still scorching.
Wanda sat under a parasol.
Ten meters away, Starlight was wearing a floral dress, smiling like a flower as she held up a cup of ice cream to Lin An's lips.
Lin An took a bite from her hand with extreme naturalness, causing Starlight to blush and pout coquettishly.
That sickeningly sweet scene made Wanda roll her eyes.
Stupid.
Just a little bit of kindness shown, and she's practically eager to offer up her soul.
But Wanda's gaze was uncontrollably fixed on Lin An.
That lighthearted remark from yesterday evening, "the real buyer of the missile launch," was stuck firmly in her neural pathways, torturing her all night.
She hated Stark Industries, but she hated even more the executioner hiding behind the scenes who had launched the deadly weapon at the civilian area of Sokovia.
After the shoot ended last night, when Lin An passed by her, he didn't say a word, only using two fingers to tuck a golden magnetic card into the pocket of her sun-protection shirt.
[Tonight at ten, penthouse suite. Don't be late.]
That was the only sentence he left behind.
Wanda took a deep breath, her fingertips digging indentations into her palms.
Her pride told her to throw that room card into the face of that arrogant jerk.
But the flames of revenge urged her to open that door.
The time dragged on until 9:55 PM.
The top floor of this seven-star hotel under Vought Towerwas so quiet that even the sound of breathing was somewhat piercing.
"Ding."
The electronic lock made a faint mechanical click.
Wanda pushed the door open; the lights in the suite weren't on, only a few ambient spotlights casting an ambiguous glow.
The air was filled with the malt scent of premium bourbon whiskey, as well as a trace of Starlight's sweet, cloying scent that hadn't completely dissipated.
A trace of disgust flashed in Wanda's eyes, and her body instinctively tensed up.
"Two minutes late."
The voice came from the darkness in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Lin An was sitting in a large armchair, his legs crossed casually on the coffee table.
He had just taken a shower and was wearing only a black silk bathrobe, revealing large expanses of solid, well-developed pectoral muscles.
He held a crystal glass in his hand, watching her quietly with a playful, predatory gaze.
"Where is the list?" Wanda's voice was cold.
Lin An chuckled.
He lifted his glass and took a sip, his Adam's apple rolling up and down.
"Your attitude when begging for help isn't quite up to par."
Lin An didn't look at her, his gaze fixed on the horizon outside the window.
"After wandering the streets for so many years, didn't anyone teach you that there is no such thing as a free lunch in this World?"
"Shares of rival companies, any information on super-powered individuals you want, or even helping you kill someone."
Wanda stared at him, speaking rapidly.
"As long as you give me the list, I can use my powers to do three things for you. You won't lose out on this deal."
"A deal?"
Lin An seemed to have heard the biggest joke in the World.
He stood up, his tall and sturdy frame instantly blocking out the moonlight from the window.
That was the absolute bio-field belonging to Superman; even without him deliberately releasing it, the oppression was more than an ordinary person could endure.
Lin An walked up to Wanda, the distance between them shrinking to less than half a meter.
Wanda had to tilt her head back to look him in the eye.
She felt a wave of suffocation; the negotiation tactics she had prepared were crushed by this pure power.
Lin An looked down at her from his height.
"That underdeveloped Chaos Magic of yours, in my eyes, doesn't even count as fireworks."
Humiliation.
An incomparable sense of humiliation rushed to the top of Wanda's head instantly.
She was an extremely proud person, and this feeling of having her dignity trampled underfoot made her completely lose her reason.
"Asshole!"
Wanda roared, pushing her hands forward violently.
A rich, blood-like red energy erupted instantly, rushing straight at Lin An's brain.
She was going to take over this arrogant jerk's mind and dig the list out of his head!
The red light slammed into the center of Lin An's forehead without obstruction.
Wanda felt a surge of joy, but the next second, her face turned deathly pale.
There was no sensation of breaking through mental barriers as she had imagined.
Her Chaos Magic crashed in, like a clay ox entering the sea, hitting a burning star!
It was a mental power so vast it was despair-inducing.
"Ugh!"
The intense mental backlash made Wanda let out a painful muffled groan.
Her legs went weak, and she fell directly onto the carpet, clutching her head as if it were about to split open, cold sweat instantly soaking through the fabric on her back.
Lin An hadn't even moved a step.
He looked coldly at the woman kneeling at his feet—truly a wild horse that wouldn't shed tears until it saw the coffin.
After I fused with the Kryptonian gene, my mental resistance was already maxed out.
Even that bald Charles wouldn't be able to invade, and you, a fledgling little Witch, dare to come and try to pull a fast one?
Lin An slowly squatted down, reached out his right hand, and pinched Wanda's chin, which was pale from pain.
His fingers were rough and warm, carrying an irresistible strength, forcing her to lift her head and look him in the eye.
"Such a bad temper."
Lin An's thumb brushed over her lower lip, which she had bitten until it bled, smearing the bright red.
"However, I happen to need a wild pet."
Wanda glared at him fixedly.
"What... exactly do you want?"
She asked through gritted teeth, every word accompanied by the excruciating pain of her mind tearing apart.
"Want the list? Sure."
Lin An's face was very close.
"But I don't need you to kill for me, nor do I want your loyalty, because those things are too cheap."
"I want you."
"I want you to bow your head to me willingly. To lie obediently in my bed, and abandon that ridiculous pride of yours."
Wanda's breathing stalled instantly.
She looked at the man in front of her in disbelief.
He was like a devil who understood human nature, cruelly tearing away her last shred of decency.
If it were anyone else, she would have used magic to tear them into pieces without hesitation.
But facing Homelander, she didn't even have the qualification to perish together.
The list. The truth. Her parents' blood.
Lin An let go and walked back to the bar, picking up his glass.
"The door isn't locked."
Lin An said with his back to her, his voice nonchalant.
"You can leave. However, after tonight, that list will be completely destroyed."
The air was deathly silent.
Only the faint rustling sound of the air conditioning blowing against the curtains could be heard.
Ten seconds. Twenty seconds.
There was no sound of the door opening or anyone leaving behind him.
A cold, smug smile tugged at the corner of Lin An's mouth.
He knew he had won this round.
A woman burdened with such deep blood feuds would sell anything for her goals.
He had no mood to slowly win over or woo this woman; this method was despicable, but it was also effective.
But so what? What could she do?
He was Homelander, the Homelander who could do whatever he wanted!
A rustling sound of fabric rubbing against fabric sounded in the quiet suite.
Lin An turned around.
Wanda was still kneeling on the carpet.
She tremblingly unbuttoned her sun-protection shirt and pulled it off.
Then came the wine-red camisole underneath.
Her movements were stiff and humiliated, like a prisoner about to walk to the gallows, her eyes desperate and wild.
Large areas of snow-white skin were exposed to the cool air, breaking out in fine goosebumps due to extreme tension and humiliation.
"Now..."
Wanda's voice was hoarse beyond recognition, "is it enough?"
Lin An put down his glass.
He walked over step by step and stopped in front of her.
He grabbed Wanda's wrist, dragged her up from the floor without a hint of pity, and slammed her onto the large double bed.
"The deal begins."
Lin An's voice disappeared into their rapid, interlaced breathing.
The night was still long.
And the greed of a capitalist has no bottom line.
Chapter 58: Compound Improved, Daily Handling of Workers
It had been over half a month since that Battle Royale on the deserted island.
"Boss, Stark Industries' stock price dropped another point today, and hedge funds have already entered the market."
Madelyn reported routinely over the phone.
"Handle such trivial matters as you see fit."
Lin An tossed his phone onto the carpet.
He sat up from the large leather bed and stretched comfortably.
Beside him, two alluring bodies were intertwined and sleeping under the velvet quilt.
During the day, he would rush into space to bask in the Sun, and at night, he enjoyed the starlight and the icy fire of Wanda.
The life he had lived these past two weeks was decadent to the extreme.
Especially that Scarlet Witch, who was like a hedgehog.
After her arrogant facade was torn away, the humiliation and madness she displayed in bed certainly had a unique flavor.
An internal call directly connected to Vought Tower's encrypted channel rang.
"Boss! It's done!"
Frenchie's excited voice came from the other end of the line, accompanied by the clinking of beakers.
Lin An grabbed that U.S. flag uniform and put it on.
"Time to get down to business."
He couldn't even be bothered to wait for his private jet and took off directly from the top floor.
...
The laboratory was as messy as a dump.
Frenchie's hair was greasy and matted, and his eyes were bloodshot.
He held a test tube filled with glowing blue liquid in his hands.
"Is this the improved version?" Lin An took the test tube.
The viscous liquid flowed slowly under the cold light.
"That's right!" Frenchie excitedly grabbed a data pad and shoved it in front of Lin An. "Dr. Banner and I extracted the regenerative genes from Hulk's blood and neutralized the volatile molecular structure of the first-generation compound."
"We removed the side effects of lethality, mental distortion, and disfigurement."
"This is the perfect genetic sublimation serum!"
Lin An looked at the test tube in his hand and chuckled with satisfaction.
The defective products created by the original batch of compounds were simply unwatchable.
With this perfect version, he could mass-produce a truly controlled super army.
"Well done, Frenchie."
Lin An put the test tube back into the freezer box and patted the Frenchman heavily on the shoulder.
"From today on, your laboratory's annual budget is increased tenfold. Buy whatever top-tier equipment you need and send the bills to Madelyn."
Frenchie was dizzy from the massive amount of money and hadn't even had a chance to pledge his loyalty when a hand reached over from the side.
A cup of steaming black coffee was shoved into Frenchie's hand.
Kimiko, wearing a black tactical vest, stood nearby.
The girl didn't speak; she stared at him, forcing a tiny, awkward arc onto the corners of her mouth.
"Th...thank you." Frenchie stuttered.
Lin An watched this scene.
"Scientific spirit alone isn't enough." Lin An adopted an unquestionable tone. "Kimiko lacks common sense. From today on, you two will move to the same high-end living area."
"I order you, apart from doing experiments, you are responsible for teaching her how to integrate into society for the rest of the time."
Frenchie's eyes widened: "Boss... that's not according to the rules..."
"This is a work assignment. Any objections?" Lin An's voice turned cold.
Kimiko didn't understand the complex vocabulary, but she knew Lin An was helping them create opportunities to be alone.
The look she gave Lin An had less wariness and a bit more gratitude.
The glass door at the back of the laboratory slid open.
Bruce Banner walked out wearing a white lab coat.
He looked much more energetic than he had half a month ago and had even shaved his beard.
"John." Banner pushed up his glasses. "With the serum Frenchie extracted using this batch of improved compounds, he helped me make a brand-new genetic inhibitor. Now, even if my heart rate exceeds 180, I can keep that big guy caged up."
"We are family, Bruce."
Lin An stepped forward and gave him a warm, enthusiastic hug.
He released Banner, his gaze falling on the row of glowing blue test tubes in the freezer box.
"The serum is perfect, but someone has to be the first human test subject. Frenchie, the animal experiment data..."
"Bang!"
The heavy alloy door was slammed open from the outside.
Security Captain Butcher walked in with long strides, wearing a black trench coat.
He had a chewed-up cigar in his mouth.
He stared at the row of glowing blue test tubes.
"I've been waiting for this day for a long time." Butcherexhaled a puff of smoke. "Give that thing to me."
"Are you sure?" Lin An looked at him. "If your genes can't handle it, you'll turn into a puddle of mush."
Butcher took off his trench coat and threw it on the ground.
He stepped onto the alloy test bench in the center of the laboratory, lay down straight, and violently tore open his shirt buttons.
"As long as I can have the power to kill those super-powered bastards with my own hands, as long as I can protect Becca..."
Butcher gritted his teeth.
"Even if I turn into rotting meat, I'll accept it! Do it, Frenchman!"
Lin An nodded slightly and took half a step back.
Frenchie loaded the glowing blue serum into a high-pressure injection gun and aimed it at the large vein in Butcher's neck.
"Hiss—"
The cold serum was pumped into his blood vessels.
Two seconds later, Butcher's eyes bulged, and his eyeballs were covered in red bloodshot veins.
The cigar in his mouth fell onto the sterile floor.
"Arghhhhh—!"
A scream tore out from his throat.
Butcher's muscles expanded crazily at a speed visible to the naked eye. The blood vessels under his skin bulged high, revealing an eerie glowing blue color.
The titanium alloy buckles securing his limbs were twisted and deformed, making creaking sounds.
"Heart rate skyrocketing to 240! Cell division speed is 500 times that of a normal person!" Frenchie stared at the monitor. "The serum is restructuring his genetic chain!"
Banner frowned deeply and took two steps back, ready to transform at any moment.
Lin An stood where he was with his arms crossed.
The intense pain lasted for a full three minutes.
With the final heavy gasp, the laboratory fell into dead silence.
Snap.
The titanium alloy buckles snapped.
Butcher sat up from the test bench.
He was a size larger than before. He looked down at his hands and clenched his fist violently.
A dull air explosion sounded in the air.
Butcher raised his head.
Those turbid eyes were now roiling with scorching golden light. High-temperature energy was accumulating crazily in his eye sockets.
"Incredible..." Banner muttered to himself.
"Let's go, to the shooting range." Lin An turned around first.
The fifth underground level, the S-Rank heavy-duty explosion-proof shooting range.
The walls were all cast from half-meter-thick special depleted uranium armor.
Butcher stood in the center of the field, shirtless.
He looked at the 10-centimeter-thick composite armor plate a hundred meters away.
He stomped his legs violently.
Boom!
A large crater exploded in the high-strength concrete floor.
Butcher instantly crossed the hundred-meter distance.
His fingers dug directly into the edge of the bulletproof steel plate.
"Open... for me!"
Butcher let out a Beast-like roar, veins bulging on his arms.
Creak—Rip!
The 10-centimeter-thick armor plate was ripped in half from the middle.
Sparks flew everywhere.
He casually threw the two pieces of scrap metal onto the ground, creating two deep pits.
From the passages on both sides of the shooting range, three heavy combat robots slid out.
The Gatling guns spun crazily, spitting tongues of fire.
A dense rain of armor-piercing bullets hit Butcher's bare chest, making clinking sounds.
They were all deflected to the ground, not even leaving a white mark.
Butcher turned his head.
The golden light in his eyes reached a critical point.
Hiss—!
Two scorching high-temperature Heat Vision beams shot out from his eyes.
The three robots, worth tens of millions, were cut in half at the waist.
The cut edges melted into glowing red molten iron.
"Hahahaha!"
Butcher looked at the wreckage all over the ground and laughed wildly at the sky.
This was god-level power. With this, he could crush the necks of those super-powered individuals with his own hands!
Now he was as invulnerable as Homelander and could fire Heat Vision just the same.
He turned around and looked at Lin An outside the explosion-proof glass of the observation room.
A flash of undisguised provocation crossed his eyes.
"Bang!"
Butcher smashed the explosion-proof glass with his shoulder.
He strode up to Lin An and looked down at this boss.
His heavy breathing sprayed onto Lin An's uniform.
"Boss, want to spar?" Butcher grinned.
Lin An smiled.
He slowly raised his right hand and extended an index finger.
The next second, that absolute biological force field, ignoring the laws of physics, slammed down on his head.
Boom!
The arrogance on Butcher's face froze.
He felt an immense pressure slam violently onto his spine.
"Urgh!"
Butcher groaned, his legs going weak and trembling.
Lin An's index finger pressed lightly on Butcher's right shoulder.
Crack! Crack!
The bones inside Butcher's shoulder made cracking sounds.
He tried his best to stand straight.
The golden light in his eyes lit up again, attempting to use Heat Vision to counterattack.
"If you dare to glare at me, I'll gouge your eyeballs out and pop them like bubbles."
Lin An's voice was not loud.
The golden light in Butcher's eyes instantly extinguished.
Thud.
Butcher's right knee slammed heavily onto the ground, creating a large web of cracks in the high-strength floor.
He was forced to kneel on one knee, submitting at Lin An's feet.
"Did you think that by relying on a knock-off serum I handed out as charity, you could bridge the gap between us?"
Lin An looked down at him.
"I can lift you onto a pedestal, and I can also step you into hell with one finger."
Lin An bent down slightly and spoke close to Butcher's ear.
"It's a good thing for a dog to have sharp teeth, so it can better crush the throats of my enemies for me."
"But don't forget who is the one holding the leash tightly. And don't forget your family—they wouldn't want to welcome back your cold corpse. Do you understand, William?"
Butcher bit down hard on his back molars.
Finally, he slowly lowered his head and sighed, squeezing out one word from the depths of his throat: "Understood, boss..."
Hmph, this mad dog has only truly submitted now.
Lin An withdrew his finger.
The suffocating pressure dissipated.
Butcher was soaked in cold sweat, sitting slumped in the broken glass, gasping for air.
In the corner of the observation room, Hughie did not make a sound.
Watching Butcher kneeling in the broken glass, he gripped the corner of his clothes tightly.
He didn't want to be that softie who couldn't even protect his girlfriend anymore.
Hughie's gaze was nailed to that tube of liquid.
I want power too.
Chapter 59: Distributing Dog Food to Workers and News of Captain America
A pungent smell of scorched metal fermented in the explosion-proof shooting range.
Hughie stared fixedly at the last dark blue test tube on the control console.
His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed the bitter saliva.
Outside the glass wall, Butcher, who had been insufferably arrogant just a moment ago, was climbing up from a pile of shattered glass.
Like a stray dog that had been beaten with an iron rod, he wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth and strode over to smash open the observation room door.
"What are you looking at?" Butcher grabbed Hughie by the collar.
"With the boss holding things down up there, do you really plan on being a useless coward hiding in logistics for the rest of your life?"
Hughie's face flushed red from being choked, his hands desperately prying at Butcher's thick arm.
"You're timid and fearful, living like a stink bug that could be crushed at any moment!" Butcher's spit sprayed all over Hughie's face, his bloodshot eyes locked onto his prey. "A-Train is in the slammer. Are you planning to spend the rest of your life hugging Robin's severed hand and crying in the night? Just watching your beloved woman get smashed into a pulp without even making a peep?"
Robin.
This name was like a bloody dagger, fiercely piercing through the last remnants of Hughie's cowardice.
That blinding mist of blood on the street exploded once again. The pathetic sight of himself cowering under a table on the deserted island slapped him across the face.
Damn it.
There was nowhere left to retreat.
"Let go." Hughie squeezed the two words through his teeth, his gaze changing completely.
Butcher sneered, releasing his grip and stepping back half a pace. "Prove it to me."
Hughie grabbed the cold test tube.
Gritting his teeth, he pressed the high-pressure injection gun firmly against his carotid artery.
Hiss—!
The cold serum was pumped into his veins in an instant.
"Ah!" Hughie clutched his neck, his legs giving out as he slammed into the floor.
Extreme agony swept through his entire body, his vision twisting crazily.
"Something's wrong with this kid!" Frenchie said, sweating profusely as he hammered at the keyboard.
Red boxes popped up all over the screen. "Heart rate imbalance, the surrounding spatial curvature is skyrocketing! He's warping space! What the hell is this?"
Hughie opened his mouth wide, his throat feeling as if it were blocked.
Hum—!
A sonic boom of tearing air exploded.
In the distorted blue halo, Hughie vanished into thin air. The violent airwave overturned experimental equipment all over the floor.
"Wdf? Where is he?!" Butcher stared, searching all around as if he'd seen a ghost.
...
Vought Tower top floor, CEO's office.
Lin An had just returned from underground.
He loosened his tie and walked to the bar.
He was calculating how much popularity points he had harvested from his employees over the past half-month.
[Popularity Points Balance: 20 Million]
Not bad, not bad. These employees were worth the salary; in just half a month, they had already accumulated three million popularity points.
In a little while longer, he would be able to redeem the Steel Body of the Silver Superman template. By then, let alone nuclear bombs, he would have the confidence to go toe-to-toe with Thanos even without the Infinity Stones.
Bang!
Above the large mahogany desk, space suddenly collapsed.
A Stark naked figure fell out of thin air.
Lin An's hand holding the wine glass froze in mid-air.
His eye twitched violently.
Hughie sprawled spread-eagled on the mahogany desk, gasping for air.
"I... am I alive?" Hughie propped himself up with weak arms.
Hughie looked down.
His plaid shirt was gone, his jeans were gone, even his pilled underwear had vanished without a trace.
He was completely naked.
He looked just like a white fish fresh off the cutting board.
Teleportation doesn't bring clothes?
What kind of bullshit physics repulsion reaction is this?!
Hughie's brain crashed for two seconds.
He jerked his head up, meeting Lin An's pair of smiling blue eyes from behind the bar.
"Ah—!!!"
The shrill scream nearly shattered the bulletproof glass.
Hughie scrambled to cover his privates, curling up like a cooked shrimp.
"Pfft... Hahahaha!"
Lin An burst out laughing.
He pointed at Hughie, who was shivering in the corner of the desk, almost spilling his whiskey.
"Boss! Don't look! Turn around!" Hughie was mortified.
He wished he could dig a hole and crawl into it right then and there.
"Hughie, your ability is truly... unique." Lin An put down his wine glass and casually tossed a cashmere blanket onto his head. "It even saves you the cost of a suit."
Hughie wrapped himself tightly in the blanket, his face flushing crimson, unable to squeeze out a single word.
Lin An leaned against the bar, his gaze deep.
Teleportation.
A true assassin's god-tier skill.
Combined with Butcher's Heat Vision, the "Discipline Committee" formed by these two would definitely be a lethal, throat-slitting assassination blade.
As for the side effect of clothes exploding at any time?
That's not a side effect, that's clearly traffic.
The new dog leash had been formed.
Next, it was time to throw a bone to the old dogs.
"Put on a spare suit and go find Butcher."
Lin An pressed the intercom, his smile vanishing instantly.
"Madelyn, call Maeve, The Deep, and Black Noir up."
Five minutes later, top-floor conference room.
Queen Maeve, The Deep, and Black Noir filed in.
They each pulled out high-backed leather chairs and sat down, the atmosphere oppressive.
For the past half-month, resources had been poured into the Dragon Team and Starlight, and they, the veterans, had been marginalized; it would be a lie to say they weren't jealous.
"John hasn't even looked at us properly for half a month." The Deep frantically picked at the table's edge, muttering, "My Twitter followers have dropped like a dog! Those haters on Twitter say that compared to that pretty boy Iceman, I'm just a pervert who gets aroused by dolphins!!"
Maeve glanced sideways with cold eyes: "Are they wrong?"
"Don't act so high and mighty!" The Deep stiffened his neck. "Your equality endorsements have all been snatched by Starlight; you're now just a has-been who can't even get a gig..."
Bang.
The door pushed open again.
Lin An strode in.
The three of them sat up straight as if electrocuted.
The Deep's legs were even trembling.
The bloody scent of Edgar being headshot a month ago seemed to still linger in the air.
Lin An sat at the head of the table.
He casually tossed a silver metal case onto the table.
Click.
Three dark red test tubes lay quietly in the velvet.
"Know what this is?" Lin An tapped his knuckles on the table.
The three looked at each other.
"During this time, your acting in front of the camera has been passable; you've barely met your KPI."
Lin An leaned back in his chair, his tone condescending.
"An advanced version of Compound V. It removes the lethality and forcibly raises the genetic ceiling. Good dogs deserve a reward."
Maeve's breath hitched.
A super-powered person's strength is set once they reach adulthood.
The temptation of a second breakthrough was like lethal poison.
Black Noir didn't say a word, grabbing a test tube.
Following the seams of his suit, he brutally shoved it into his neck.
Crack, crack, crack—!
His bones popped loudly.
His high-density muscles expanded crazily, making his black armor creak and tear.
He grew a full ten centimeters taller.
Boom!
Black Noir threw a casual punch.
The massive, multi-ton solid wood conference table snapped in two, wood shavings flying everywhere.
He looked at his fist, his eyes behind the mask filled with fanaticism.
Lin An nodded with satisfaction. "Not bad, your stats have multiplied several times over. This two-hundred-thousand-dollar table will be deducted from your salary."
Black Noir froze in place.
"Your turn, Maeve."
Maeve stepped forward and injected it into her vein.
A few seconds later, the subcutaneous muscle fibers contracted and reorganized like carbon nanotubes.
She casually grabbed Stark's laser knife and slashed hard against her defenseless forearm.
Sizzle, sizzle, sizzle! Sparks flew, but there wasn't even a mark left on her fair skin.
Maeve looked delighted; she could feel that now, she could withstand a barrage of missiles to the face without a scratch.
The Deep swallowed hard and picked up the last one.
He gritted his teeth and injected it.
Ten seconds passed.
The Deep twisted his face, waiting for a long time.
"Ugh..." The Deep let out an incredibly loud, fishy-smelling belch.
Maeve scoffed, her eyes full of disdain: "A waste, even after taking the miracle drug. Did it just strengthen your stomach acid?"
The Deep's face flushed red, and he looked at Lin An in despair: "Boss... did my genes reject it?"
Lin An looked at him as if he were a retard.
"Use the seawater that's entered your brain; do you think your ability is just to go and date fish?"
The Deep looked blank.
"Look at that fish tank, use your will to control it."
In the corner, a juvenile tiger shark was swimming in a massive, high-pressure seawater tank.
The Deep turned his head and stared fixedly.
Abandoning the friendly "brain waves," a brutal command of domination was forced into the tiger shark's brain.
Boom!
The fish tank churned violently. The juvenile tiger shark's eyes instantly turned bloodshot and crimson.
"Smash it." The Deep raised his hand.
Bang! Crack—!
The meter-long juvenile shark erupted with terrifying power, slamming into the bulletproof glass like a torpedo.
Splash!
The glass shattered completely! Tons of seawater, carrying the violent juvenile shark, poured out.
The juvenile shark rolled on the floor, biting through a solid wood chair leg in one go; its bite force was even more astonishing than an adult Great White Shark.
"Fuck!" The Deep swore in excitement.
He didn't have to be the aquarium's clown anymore! As long as he was in the water, he was the king!
He could summon a violent army of sea monsters at any time!
[Ding! Employee strength has leaped forward, loyalty has increased!]
['Capitalist's Gift' upgraded! Employee popularity point commission rate permanently increased by 10%!]
Lin An smiled.
The commission had gone up.
The stronger the cyber-slaves, the bigger the commotion they caused when working, and the crazier the traffic became.
He casually picked up the solid titanium alloy water cup on the table.
The three of them immediately held their breath, staring at him with fanaticism and awe.
"Power is a good thing." Lin An said in a gentle tone, "It can give you money, traffic, and worship."
Creak—
Lin An tightened his five fingers casually.
The titanium alloy, which was strong enough to resist armor-piercing shells, was crushed like a piece of mud. Metal powder rained down onto the carpet.
"Don't forget who bestowed it upon you."
Lin An looked up. His deep blue eyes were instantly filled with crimson.
Boom!
An unbreathable, absolute biological force field slammed down like Mount Tai.
Maeve and Black Noir were instantly drenched in cold sweat on their backs.
The Deep's legs went weak, and he slid from his chair, kneeling onto the carpet.
"Work hard, Vought can lift you onto a pedestal." Lin Anbraced his hands on the table, looking down at the livestock.
"Whoever dares to act up, Translucent will be your fate."
The conference room was as dead silent as a grave.
Just as the three of them were completely reduced to loyal dogs, the private communicator in Lin An's inner pocket suddenly vibrated.
Lin An connected his earpiece, and Madelyn's distorted voice exploded.
"Boss! Big news! Captain America has been resurrected!"
The crimson in Lin An's eyes instantly faded, and a crazy curve hooked at the corner of his mouth.
The new traffic password has arrived.
Chapter 60: Fooling Captain America
"Captain America has been revived?"
Lin An's fingers, which were gripping a titanium water cup, paused, and a strong sense of interest surged in his eyes.
He casually tossed the cup, now crumpled into a lump of scrap metal, into the trash can, which made a dull clanging sound.
The three people, including Mei, who had just been gasping for air under his bio-force field in the conference room, were now all bowing their heads like frightened quails, not daring to even breathe loudly.
Madelyn's voice in the earpiece was filled with irrepressible excitement.
"Yes! Half an hour ago, the Super Soldier dug out of the ice at the North Pole by S.H.I.E.L.D. woke up. But he was clearly terrified by modern society; he just smashed through one of S.H.I.E.L.D.'s secret recovery centers and ran to the streets of Manhattan."
"What about that bald black man, Nick Fury?" Lin Ansneered, imagining the egghead's furious expression.
"Director Fury tried to recruit him. But Captain Rogersrefused S.H.I.E.L.D.'s invitation, and his current state is very unstable."
Madelyn reported quickly, "Boss, should I have the PR department issue a press release to ride the wave of popularity?"
"Ride the wave?" Lin An curled his lips, "Madelyn, your vision is only as big as a fingernail. Why ride the wave? I'm going to snatch this old popsicle, bucket and all!"
Cutting off the communication, Lin An didn't even bother to say goodbye to those three cyber-slaves in the conference room.
He turned into a red and blue afterimage, tearing through the air and shooting straight towards the sky over Manhattan.
He filtered out the sound of the wind in his ears.
His super hearing, like an invisible radar, instantly covered the entire city of New York.
The heartbeats, cursing, and car horns of millions of people flooded his brain like a tide, only to be quickly stripped away by him.
He needed to find a heartbeat that was extremely steady and as powerful as a heavy truck engine.
That was the unique physiological characteristic brought about by the Super Soldier serum.
"Found it."
Lin An hovered at an altitude of a thousand meters, his gaze locked onto an intersection at the edge of Times Square.
On Manhattan Avenue.
Steve Rogers was wearing an ill-fitting T-shirt, standing blankly in the surging crowd like a homeless drifter.
All around him were glaring LED screens, playing all sorts of bizarre and surreal advertisements.
Deafening pop music blasted from giant stereo speakers.
Cars lined up in long queues on the road honked their horns impatiently.
Seventy years.
Steve felt as if his brain had been shoved into a blender.
Half an hour ago, that one-eyed black Director told him that it was now the twenty-first century.
The war had long since ended; the Nazis were gone, and HYDRA was gone.
He had won the war, but lost the entire World.
He thought of the bomber that had crashed into the glacier.
He thought of the Stork Club at eight o'clock.
"Peggy..."
Steve closed his eyes in pain, his fists clenched tightly.
That dance he never got to attend was like a rusty nail, stuck firmly in his heart, bleeding with every beat.
That black Director asked him to join S.H.I.E.L.D. and continue to serve the country.
Serve? Continue to be a gun in the hands of politicians?
He didn't even know where he was, didn't even have money to buy a cup of coffee; why should he risk his life for those Agents hiding in the shadows?
Hum—!
A sharp sonic boom suddenly came from overhead, drowning out the noise of the entire street.
Steve opened his eyes abruptly; his combat instincts made him instantly assume a defensive posture, his muscles tensed to the limit.
A figure wrapped in a red cape descended like a meteorite, bringing a terrifying sense of oppression, and crashed onto the road less than three meters in front of him.
Bang!
The high-strength asphalt road was forcibly cracked into a spiderweb of fissures, with gravel flying everywhere.
The crowd was dead silent for a second.
Then, they erupted into screams ten decibels higher than before.
"It's Homelander!"
"Oh my God! It's really John! He's actually on the street!"
"Quick, take pictures! Oh my God, he's so handsome!"
Countless glowing phone screens were instantly raised, and the flashes lit up the area like daylight.
Lin An stood in the center of the crowd, wearing a perfect smile on his face.
He waved to the surrounding fans very naturally.
He turned his head and looked at the Captain America in front of him, who was treating him like a formidable enemy.
Steve stared at the tall man in front of him.
The bright red cape behind him fluttered ostentatiously in the breeze.
"Are you sent by S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Steve's voice was low, carrying deep vigilance.
This outfit reminded him of that stupid circus costume he wore seventy years ago when he was selling war bonds on stage.
But the sense of oppression from this man was a hundred times more terrifying than any HYDRA Agent he had ever seen.
"S.H.I.E.L.D.?" Lin An looked as if he had heard something extremely unlucky, his smile fading slightly, "Steve, don't insult me with that rat organization that likes to hide in sewers and spy on other people's privacy."
Steve frowned: "You know me?"
"In this country, who doesn't know Captain America?" Lin An took a step forward, ignoring Steve's instantly tensed muscles, his voice very calm.
"Welcome to the twenty-first century, soldier. I know you feel terrible right now, like an orphan abandoned by the World."
These few sentences from Lin An hit Steve's soft spot with extreme precision.
"I don't need psychological counseling." Steve replied stiffly, "I want to be alone for a while."
"Alone? Here?" Lin An spread his hands and pointed to the hundreds of onlookers surrounding them, holding their phones and frantically snapping pictures in his face.
"Believe it or not, if you walk out of this street now, within ten minutes, your photos will spread across the globe. Then that egghead Nick Fury will bring fully armed Agents to protect you like a rare animal."
Steve's expression changed.
He really didn't know where to go.
He looked at Lin An, a flash of doubt in his eyes.
This man full of strange talk seemed to have high prestige among the public.
"Who exactly are you?"
"I'm a kind person willing to offer you a decent job and help you solve your troubles along the way."
Lin An smiled and pointed to a retro cafe not far away, "Let's go, Captain. I'll treat you to a cup of coffee. I bet Nick Fury definitely didn't tell you that besides technology, this World now has many more... surprises."
On the rooftop terrace of the cafe.
Lin An snapped his fingers, and two employees who were trying to get his autograph obediently hung a "Closed" sign on the door.
Steve sat at the table, looking at the steaming Americano in front of him, not touching it.
"Speak, what do you want from me?" Steve went straight to the point, his azure blue eyes staring fixedly at Lin An.
Seventy years of sleep had not dulled his sharpness; he absolutely did not believe that there was such a thing as a free lunch.
This old popsicle is quite vigilant.
Lin An leaned back in his chair, his long fingers playing with a silver lighter.
What do I want? I want your tens of millions of die-hard fans! I want your gold-plated signboard that symbolizes absolute justice! As long as I tie you to the Dragon Team, the leeks for popularity points will keep growing, endless to harvest.
But I definitely can't say that directly.
"I want you to join my team. The Dragon Team under Vought International."
Lin An's tone was sincere, "S.H.I.E.L.D. is an espionage organization; they will only treat you as a weapon. But you are a hero, Steve. A hero should live in the sunlight."
Lin An leaned forward, his hands crossed and resting on his chin.
"The Dragon Team is a completely open and transparent Superhero organization, fighting to maintain World peace. We are not under the control of any politicians; we are only responsible to the public. Here, you don't need to violate your moral bottom line to do dirty work."
Steve listened to this high-sounding speech; although his brow relaxed slightly, he still didn't give in.
"I don't understand any groups, and I don't want to be any Superhero." Steve shook his head, his tone filled with a deep sense of exhaustion.
"This era doesn't belong to me. I just want to find a quiet place to spend the rest of my life."
So difficult to handle.
For this kind of stubborn moral saint, reasoning is useless.
Must use strong medicine.
"The rest of your life?" Lin An suddenly chuckled, "What, you don't intend to go to that date?"
Bang!
Steve stood up abruptly; because of the violent movement, his knee knocked over the table.
Scalding coffee spilled all over the floor.
His eyes instantly turned bloodshot, grabbing Lin An's suit tightly at the chest, his voice trembling with extreme agitation.
"What did you say?!"
"Don't get excited, old soldier." Lin An slowly brushed Steve's hand away, "Nick Fury must have lied to you, saying that everyone who knew you back then is dead, right?"
Steve's breathing was as heavy as a bellows.
"Peggy Carter is still alive."
These seven words were like a nuclear bomb detonating directly in Steve's brain.
His tall body swayed violently, and his eye sockets instantly turned red.
Seventy years of grievance, loneliness, and despair were shattered in the face of this one name.
"Where is she..." Steve's voice was so hoarse it was almost inaudible, carrying a plea, "Tell me, where is she?"
Lin An was overjoyed inside.
Done.
As long as I hold onto this pain point, Captain America is just a golden retriever with a collar on.
"She is currently living in a high-end nursing home in Washington."
Lin An put away his smile and put on an expression of slight regret.
"However, the situation is not good. She has severe Alzheimer's disease. She can't even remember what she ate yesterday."
Steve's face turned pale instantly, and he slumped back into his chair.
"But..." Lin An changed the subject, throwing out the fatal bait.
"By her bedside, for seventy years, she has kept that skinny enlistment photo of you from back then."
Steve couldn't hold it anymore, covered his face, and his shoulders began to shake violently.
"Look, S.H.I.E.L.D. is just that cold-blooded." Lin An saw that the timing was right and started the final blow.
"Carter was one of the founders of S.H.I.E.L.D. back then. But now she is sick and old, and those Agents will only throw her in a nursing home to wait for death. And they are still using deceitful tactics, trying to squeeze out your last bit of value."
Steve suddenly raised his head, his eyes flashing with angry flames.
"Join the Dragon Team, Steve."
Lin An stood up, walked to his side, and patted his shoulder heavily.
"I will immediately arrange for the top medical team from Vought International to take over her treatment; in my laboratory, I can even create genetic Agents that bring people back from the dead. Curing an Alzheimer's disease is simply a piece of cake."
Lin An lowered his head, his voice full of bewitching magic.
"Not only can I let you reunite, but I can also let her clearly recognize you, and even cure her failing organs, allowing you to gracefully finish that dance you missed for seventy years."
"Now, tell me, what is your answer."
Steve stared fixedly at the right hand Lin An extended.
In that hand held his only attachment in the World.
No political conspiracies, no lies from Agents.
Only the most naked, yet also the most irresistible, transaction for him.
"...I can try, but you have to let me see if what you said is true first."
Steve took a deep breath and gripped his hand firmly.
"Of course, happy to cooperate, Captain." The arc of Lin An's mouth curled up crazily.
Oh, egghead, egghead, Marvel's 50/50, I'll gladly accept this too.
Chapter 61: Harvesting Captain America Fans Across America
The atmosphere in the stretched backseat of the Rolls-Royce Phantom was eerily quiet.
Lin An sat with his legs crossed, swirling a glass of '82 Lafite, looking as lazy as a landlord who had just finished collecting rent.
Sitting opposite him, Steve Rogers wore an ill-fitting gray cardigan, his hands placed awkwardly on his knees.
This World War II veteran, who had been frozen in a glacier for seventy years, stared fixedly at the Washingtonstreetscape flying past the car window.
The streets full of people looking down at their phones, drones flying everywhere, and those blinding 3D holographic billboards were all violently assaulting his heart, which was still stuck in the 1940s.
"Relax, Captain. This is what we call technology changing lives. You know, 'leading the way'?"
Steve's mind was filled with only one name, the one that had haunted him for seventy years.
"How... how is she doing now?" Steve's voice was hoarse.
"She's in a top-tier nursing home owned by Vought International, 24-hour special care. Aside from her memory, we're using money to keep everything else running."
Lin An set down his glass, a benevolent smile typical of a capitalist curling the corners of his mouth.
The car stopped smoothly in front of a white building with extremely tight security.
Lin An snapped his fingers, and all unauthorized personnel and medical staff in the entire building were cleared out within three minutes.
The two walked side by side down the carpeted corridor, only the muffled sound of leather shoes against the floor breaking the silence.
Stopping in front of the special care ward, Lin An paused and gentlemanly stepped back half a pace.
"Go on in, Steve. I won't be the third wheel here."
Steve took a deep breath. That thick arm, which once could rip apart a tank, was trembling slightly at this moment.
He pushed the door open and walked in with heavy steps.
The ward door slowly closed.
Lin An leaned against the corridor wall, casually picking his ear, his super-hearing instantly activated.
Inside the ward, the heavy smell of disinfectant mixed with the ticking sound of instruments.
Steve stood before the bed, looking at the white-haired old woman hooked up to various tubes, his eyes instantly turning red.
Seventy years of time had carved cruel furrows into Peggy Carter's face.
On the nightstand, the photo frame still held that black-and-white picture of him from before he enlisted, when he was as thin as a bean sprout.
"Peggy..." Steve's knees went weak, and he knelt directly by the bed.
He reached out his trembling, large hands and very carefully held the old woman's age-spotted hand.
Peggy's cloudy eyes on the hospital bed opened slightly, full of confusion at first.
But in the next second, it was as if a miracle spanning seventy years had been triggered.
A glimmer of clarity suddenly flashed in her cloudy pupils, and her withered lips trembled slightly.
"Steve..."
A faint call, yet one that had crossed half a century, echoed in the ward.
Steve Rogers' tears burst forth instantly, and like a child who had suffered a great grievance, he buried his head deeply into Peggy's palm.
Outside the corridor.
The system panel in Lin An's mind suddenly flickered crazily as if it were malfunctioning.
Ding! SSR-level emotional resonance event triggered!
Ding! Host successfully altered the fate of Captain America, popularity points critical hit +200k!
The emotional value of this old popsicle is simply amazing. The pure love god has fallen. This wave of leeks is so cool to harvest!
Five minutes later, the ward door opened.
Steve walked out, his eyes red like a rabbit's, with unshed tears still lingering at the corners.
But the confusion and deadness in him had completely vanished, replaced by an extremely firm edge.
He walked to Lin An without a word and extended his hand.
Lin An very understandingly pulled the prepared Dragon Team contract from his inner suit pocket and handed it over along with a pen.
Steve didn't even look at the contract terms and signed his name directly on the last page.
Lin An took the contract, flicked the paper, and then gave Steve's broad shoulder a heavy pat.
"Welcome home, Captain."
[Ding! System prompt: Congratulations to the host for successfully recruiting Captain America!]
[Ding! Host permanently gains 50% commission on popularity points generated by Steve Rogers!]
Lin An remained calm on the surface, but fireworks were already going off in his heart.
Marvel's first-generation top traffic star, the spiritual totem of America, the walking traffic code, had just become a pure workhorse for his Vought International!
A 50% commission—even a capitalist would shed tears of emotion hearing that!
Lin An took out his phone and dialed Madelyn's direct line.
"Notify all global mainstream media, clear Times Squarethe day after tomorrow at 3 PM."
"Dragon Team has a major personnel announcement. I want to make a big splash that shocks the American public."
"By the way, call Tony Stark, tell him to stop sleeping and hurry up and finish that super tight suit for our new employee. Make sure it highlights America's ass."
New York, Times Square.
The place had been completely transformed into a super press conference venue by Vought International's insane PR team.
All the big screens around were booked by Vought International, and three hundred high-definition drones hovered in the sky like a swarm of bees.
In the backstage dressing room.
Steve stood in front of the full-length mirror, looking at his brand-new self.
This suit, rushed out overnight by Tony Stark, was simply amazing.
It retained the classic red, white, and blue Stars and Stripes color scheme, but the material had been completely replaced with Stark Industries' top-tier nano-bulletproof fiber.
His muscle lines were perfectly outlined, especially that iconic Vibranium shield, with its edges plated in a layer of deep blue energy coating, full of technological aesthetics.
"This suit... is a bit too tight." Steve tugged at the collar, clearly still having psychological barriers against this kind of flashy spandex.
"Tighter is better. Tighter shows off the physique. Female fans nowadays love this kind of thing."
Lin An, wearing his Homelander suit, stood to the side, spouting scumbag remarks.
The music at the front of the stage suddenly became extremely stirring.
Lin An straightened his red cape and strode onto the stage.
The spotlight hit him instantly, and the noisy media and fans in the audience fell silent.
"Today, we're not talking about those messy superpower crimes. We're going to talk about faith."
Lin An's voice carried through the microphone across Times Square, reaching the ears of hundreds of millions of people across America.
"There was a man who, seventy years ago, in order to save this World, took a bomber full of nuclear bombs and plunged into the eternal glacier without hesitation."
"Everyone thought he was dead. They wrote him into history books and printed him on stamps."
Lin An suddenly raised his volume, and the giant holographic screen behind him instantly began playing black-and-white footage of Captain America from World War II.
"But today, I want to tell the whole World: the legend has not died!"
"He has crossed seventy years of wind and snow, and with his indestructible shield, he has returned to our side!"
The audience was dead silent; everyone's eyes were wide open, their breathing even stalled.
"Let us welcome the newest member of Dragon Team, the ultimate faith of America—Steve Rogers!"
Bang!
The metal door at the back of the stage slid open to both sides.
In the thick fog created by dry ice, a tall, upright figure holding that iconic shield walked out with steady steps.
Steve walked to the center of the stage, looked at the sea of people below, and slowly removed his mask.
That handsome face, chiseled like a sculpture, and those deep blue eyes were exposed without reservation to the cameras of hundreds of millions of people across America.
After a brief dead silence.
The entire Times Square erupted into a terrifying scream that could flip Manhattan Island.
"Oh my God! It's really him!"
"Captain America! A living Captain America! A living legend!"
"Is this for real? My grandma still has his poster on her headboard!"
"Holy crap, Captain America joined Vought International? Homelander is so badass! Who dares to say Homelanderis a bad guy??? Stand up!"
Social media crashed in an instant, the servers smoked from the terrifying traffic.
Lin An stood to the side, watching the frenzied fans, the system prompt in his ears sounding like a symphony.
[Ding! Judged as a legendary character public appearance event!]
[Ding! Shock value across America maxed out, congratulations to the host for gaining one million popularity points!]
Lin An's smile couldn't be suppressed; this old popsicle was truly a walking, talking money-printing machine!
Meanwhile.
S.H.I.E.L.D.'s underground secret command center.
Bang!
Nick Fury's only remaining eye stared fixedly at the live broadcast on the big screen, and he smashed a dent into the console in front of him with one punch.
"Motherf***er!"
Fury was trembling with rage, his black face so dark that his features were almost indistinguishable.
"In broad daylight, in front of the whole World, he stole our symbol of America!"
Agent Hill, standing to the side, was too scared to even breathe.
Fury turned around abruptly and grabbed the encrypted communicator.
"Listen, Barton, the plan has changed." Fury growled into the microphone through gritted teeth.
"Spare no expense, dig up the dirt on Vought Internationalfor me. Even if it's a recording of that lunatic Lin An snoring in his sleep, get it for me!"
Fury stared fixedly at Steve shaking hands with Lin An on the screen, his eyes so gloomy they looked like they could drip water.
Chapter 62: The Depraved Life of a Vought Employee
Clint Barton stared at the seven-figure salary notification on his phone screen and let out a deep sigh.
This job was impossible to do.
He was sunk deep into a fifty-thousand-dollar handmade Italian leather sofa on the top floor of Vought Tower, holding a cup of Geisha coffee that the blonde secretary had just brought in, which was said to have been air-shipped from its origin.
Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, warming him up.
No rolling in the mud, no facing HYDRA's sniper fire, no eating those plastic-tasting compressed rations from the S.H.I.E.L.D. cafeteria.
His daily task was just to play on the golf simulator in the Security Department's executive office and occasionally sign a few security equipment purchase orders.
It was too depraved.
The sugar-coated bullets of capitalism were simply poisonous.
Hawkeye rubbed his brow and sat up straight on the sofa.
No, he couldn't keep rotting away like this.
Nick Fury's dark face suddenly flashed through his mind, giving him a rare sense of guilt for slacking off on the clock.
"I am a fucking Agent."
Barton muttered, set down his coffee cup, pulled over the keyboard, accessed S.H.I.E.L.D.'s encrypted line, and began to compile the intelligence he had gathered at Vought International over the past half-month.
He pulled up the internal surveillance footage and the Disciplinary Committee's action reports.
The more he watched, the deeper his brows furrowed.
On the screen, that Mutant brute, covered in bone spurs and who had torn three people apart in the Battle Royaleon the deserted island, was currently wearing a pink apron with a teddy bear pattern, handing out lollipops to children at an orphanage in Brooklyn.
That smile was kinder than a priest's.
Even when a brat pulled out one of his bone spurs, he swallowed his scream and squeezed out a "May the Lord bless you."
The surveillance footage skipped.
The Deep was leading a group of Level 2 Superheroes, cleaning up ocean trash on Miami Beach.
When a Superhero accidentally kicked a plastic bottle back into the sea, The Deep slapped him directly, accusing him with tears in his eyes of lacking the awe required to protect nature.
The progress bar continued to scroll forward.
Starlight was visiting the elderly.
Quicksilver was helping the community catch car thieves.
Even that short-tempered Cyclops was using his superpowers to help the municipal engineering team cut abandoned steel bars.
These Superheroes, who usually looked down on others and treated ordinary people like grass, were now living more upright lives than nuns.
Why?
Because in the corners of the surveillance footage, several men in black suits and sunglasses would always vaguely appear.
That was the Vought Disciplinary Investigation Team led by Butcher.
Barton had seen it with his own eyes; last week, a Superhero got drunk at a bar and tried to molest a waitress. Before he could finish speaking, Butcher lunged out from the shadows, shattered the guy's jaw with a pistol butt, and then dragged him into the underground interrogation room like a dead dog.
The next day, that Superhero was wearing a red armband and directing traffic on the street.
Barton packed these files and hit the send button.
Washington, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s underground secret command center.
Nick Fury's only remaining eye was fixed on the buffering progress bar on the screen.
He rubbed his hands together, and a cold sneer curled the corner of his mouth.
"It's finally here."
"Homelander, you lunatic, let's see where you can hide your fox tail this time."
Ding.
File decryption complete.
Fury opened the first video.
The bone-spurred brute handing out lollipops.
Fury frowned.
Opened the second one.
The Deep picking up trash.
Fury's dark face sank.
Opened the third, the fourth.
A compilation of good deeds across the whole network, the Top Ten Most Touching Superheroes in the United States.
Bang!
Fury slammed a hand onto the titanium alloy desktop, making the coffee cup next to it jump.
"Shit!"
"Impossible!"
"Absolutely impossible!"
He grabbed the encrypted communicator and connected to Barton's line.
"Barton!"
"Did you get brainwashed by Homelander?"
"Trying to fool me with this AI-generated funny video?!"
"I want dirt!"
"Evidence of them killing people and plotting to overthrow the government!"
Barton's helpless voice came from the other end of the communicator.
"Director, this is the whole truth."
"I checked all their attendance records and internal communications."
"That group of Superheroes is now more disciplined than Boy Scouts."
"The Disciplinary Committee that Lin An set up is like a pack of mad dogs; whoever dares to commit a crime gets dealt with ruthlessly."
"They are genuinely maintaining World peace now."
Maintaining World peace?
Fury was so angry he laughed, his one eye wide open.
"Do you believe that?"
"Do you believe a tyrant who raised hundreds of people like insects on a deserted island and spouted nonsense in front of the whole World would be a philanthropist?"
"This is a disguise!"
"This is a conspiracy!"
"He is using these superficial gestures to numb the public, while secretly brewing a big move that could blow up the Earth!"
"Director, don't you have too much prejudice against Homelander?"
Barton sighed.
"Maybe he just wants to earn some traffic and a good reputation?"
"Bullshit!"
Fury roared.
"I've been an Agent for thirty years; I can smell the stench on a villain!"
"Keep investigating!"
"Check his private itinerary, check his capital flow!"
"I don't believe he doesn't have a single flaw!"
"Uh..."
"If you want deep dirt, there is actually some."
Barton hesitated for a moment.
"But I'm afraid you won't be able to handle it."
"Send it over!"
Fury gritted his teeth.
"I've even seen alien invasions; what else can't I handle!"
Ding-dong.
Several high-definition, uncensored paparazzi photos were instantly transmitted to Fury's computer screen.
The first one, an underground garage.
Homelander Lin An and former S.H.I.E.L.D. ace AgentBlack Widow Natasha were pressed against the hood of an Aston Martin, kissing and lingering.
Natasha's hands wrapped around Lin An's neck, and that gaze so long and lingering that it could stretch for two meters—even a blind man could see she had completely fallen for him.
Fury's dark face instantly darkened to the extreme.
The second one, a private beach in Hawaii.
Homelander was wearing floral trunks, holding a shy-looking Starlight in a bikini in his left arm, and draping his right arm around the dazed-looking Scarlet Witch Wanda.
As the sun set, the scene was beautiful—a top-tier playboy style.
Fury's hands began to tremble.
The next dozen photos were all candid shots of Lin Anentering and exiting various high-end venues and yacht parties, surrounded by various female celebrities and female Superheroes.
"Fuck you!!!"
Fury completely broke down and grabbed the coffee cup on the table, smashing it fiercely at the screen.
Coffee splashed everywhere.
"I wanted evidence of him destroying the World!"
"Not this fucking Hollywood trashy gossip!"
"What does he take my Agents for?!"
"What does he take the families of the Avengers for?!"
Over the communicator, Barton's voice carried a hint of embarrassment.
"Director, you asked for deep dirt."
"Besides running his business, this kid is just chasing women."
"Oh right, he also bought Natasha a top-floor apartment in Manhattan and put it in her name."
"Get out!"
"Get out and keep investigating!"
Fury cut off the communication, clutching his aching chest, almost spitting out a mouthful of old blood.
With a beep, the communication was violently cut off.
Hawkeye curled his lip and put his feet back on the console.
Single old men just can't stand seeing others happy.
An employee should have an employee's awareness; my boss's private life is none of my business.
Night fell, and the neon lights of New York could not illuminate all the dark corners.
On the fifth basement level of Vought Tower, the Disciplinary Investigation Team's office.
This place was now the Yama's palace that all Superheroes in the group feared most.
Hughie sat in a large leather office chair, legs crossed on the desk, twirling a Montblanc fountain pen in his hand with a pretentious air of deep thought.
He was no longer the wimp from the video store who was too timid to even ask his boss for overtime pay.
Since injecting the perfect version of Compound V and awakening the ability to teleport while stripping, Hughiehad undergone an ultimate evolution from the inside out.
Now, he was the Deputy Secretary of the Vought Disciplinary Committee, holding the power of life and death.
Beep beep beep!
The red alarm on the table suddenly flashed crazily.
"Emergency."
"A large-scale gang riot has occurred in Hell's Kitchen. Kingpin's men have looted three blocks with heavy weapons. The New York Police Department's defense line has collapsed, and they are requesting support from Vought International."
The voice broadcasted coldly.
Hughie raised an eyebrow, not even lifting his eyelids much.
"Did that fat dead guy Kingpin lose his mind?"
He pressed the communication button on the desk.
"Black Noir, work's here."
Bang!
The metal door of the office was smashed open by brute force.
Black Noir, whose height had surged to 2.1 meters and whose muscles were bulging against his black armor as if it were about to explode, walked in like an iron tower.
After the secondary mutation, Black Noir's oppressive presence was ten times stronger than before.
He stood in front of Hughie, as silent as raw iron, but the eyes behind the mask revealed a bloodthirsty excitement.
Hughie threw an electronic file on the table, a cold sneer identical to Lin An's curling the corner of his mouth.
"The boss said that recently those keyboard warriors online have been saying that our Dragon Team only knows how to put on a show, saying we don't dare to touch real gang bosses."
"Go, open their eyes."
Hughie leaned forward, his eyes cold.
"Kill everyone who resists."
"For those who don't resist, break their limbs and then hand them over to the New York Police Department."
"Don't dirty the boss's reputation."
Black Noir nodded silently, grabbed the file, turned around, and strode out.
With every step, the high-strength alloy floor trembled slightly.
Hughie watched Black Noir's back and stretched comfortably.
Hanging out with the boss means eating nine meals a day.
This is what you call life.
Meanwhile, Hell's Kitchen, 32nd Block.
Flames soared into the sky, gunfire erupted.
Kingpin's men were holding automatic rifles, firing wildly at the police cars on the street, arrogant, wild laughter echoing in the night sky.
Three hundred meters away from the center of the riot, on the roof of an abandoned apartment building.
A man wearing a suit with a huge white skull printed on it was lying on the edge of the rooftop.
Frank Castle, The Punisher, whom the underworld feared.
His eyes were as cold as ice, and through the scope of his special sniper rifle, he locked onto the gang leader who was clamoring the loudest below.
"A bunch of scum."
Frank cursed under his breath, his finger already on the trigger.
He planned to wash these three streets in blood tonight.
Just as he was about to pull the trigger.
Boom!
A black figure as huge as a small mountain, like a meteorite falling from the sky, with a piercing sonic boom, smashed straight into the center of the gang crowd.
The violent blast of air instantly sent two vans nearby flying.
The high-strength asphalt road was smashed into a huge deep pit, and gravel flew everywhere like bullets.
The gunfire stopped abruptly.
All the gangsters were dumbfounded.
In the dust, Black Noir slowly stood up.
He didn't even say a word of nonsense, reaching back to pull out the two high-frequency vibrating alloy swords on his back.
Pfft!
The blade light flashed, and the three gangsters closest to him didn't even have time to scream before they were cut in half at the waist.
Blood sprayed onto Black Noir's black armor like a fountain, but he didn't even blink, like a soulless meat grinder, charging directly into the crowd.
The sound of bones breaking and desperate screams instantly resounded through the night sky.
This was not a fight; this was a one-sided physical legal education.
On the roof, Frank Castle looked through the scope at the scene below, which was flying with flesh and blood and was extremely brutal, and slowly lowered the sniper rifle in his hand.
The Punisher's brows were tightly knitted together.
He thought he was ruthless and perverted enough at killing, but where the hell did this living Yama come from?
Are Superheroes these days all this ruthless?