Chapter 63 Recruiting The Punisher
"Boss, we found a tough guy over here."
Hughie stood on the blood-stained asphalt of Hells Kitchen, stepping on a piece of intestines that he didn't know belonged to whom, and spoke into the communicator.
Not far away, Black Noir was twisting the last gang leader like a pretzel, then tossed him into a burning trash can.
Hughie looked up at the roof of an abandoned apartment building three hundred meters away.
Even through the night, he knew someone was lying there.
A man wearing a tactical suit with a huge White skull painted on it.
"No superpowers, relies purely on firearms. But that look in his eyes... how should I put it, he feels even more like a psycho killer than Black Noir."
Hughie swallowed hard and added.
Top floor of Vought Tower.
Lin An was leaning back in his boss chair, looking at the pre-sale data for Steve Rogers-style Stars and Stripes underwear, the corners of his mouth curling into a satisfied arc.
One hundred thousand sold in a second; these Americans' purchasing power was the perfect target to harvest.
Hearing Hughie's report, Lin An raised an eyebrow.
"A psycho killer with a skull painted on him? In Hells Kitchen?"
A name popped into Lin An's mind instantly.
Frank Castle. The Punisher.
"Interesting."
Lin An rubbed his chin.
Recently, the Dragon Team's business had been expanding, and relying solely on these few leashes like Butcher and Hughie would eventually run them into the ground.
The disciplinary investigation team urgently needed to expand.
And a vigilante like The Punisher—someone with no moral bottom line, decisive in killing, and cruel to criminals like autumn wind sweeping away fallen leaves—was simply the perfect seedling for the disciplinary committee!
"Hughie, call it a day. You don't need to worry about that guy."
Lin An pressed the communication button, stood up, and tugged at the red cape behind him.
"I'll go meet this old friend myself."
Half an hour later, Brooklyn district, a hidden underground air-raid shelter.
This was Frank Castle's safe house.
The walls were hung with various heavy weapons, and the table was piled with scattered C4 explosives and shell casings.
Frank was sitting under a dim desk lamp, wrapping his bleeding left arm with gauze.
That horrific scene in Hells Kitchen tonight was still lingering in his mind.
That monster in the black tactical suit simply didn't follow the basic laws of physics.
"Shit, this world is getting harder and harder to understand."
Frank gritted his teeth and tied a knot in the gauze.
Bang!
The two-meter-thick reinforced concrete ceiling above suddenly made a deafening explosion.
Countless rubble and steel bars rained down like a storm.
Frank reacted extremely quickly, performing a tactical roll toward the weapon rack, grabbing an M4A1 loaded with armor-piercing rounds, and aiming the muzzle straight at the center of the dust.
"Cough, cough... the dust in this dump is too thick."
A lazy, casual voice came from the dust.
Lin An patted the dust off his shoulders and strode out.
Behind him followed Butcher, wearing his signature black trench coat and looking annoyed.
"Good evening, Mr. Castle. Or should I call you, The Punisher?"
Lin An flashed a standard capitalist smile.
Frank's pupils constricted violently.
Homelander!
How did he find this place?
"Don't be nervous, put that fire poker down."
Lin An pointed to the gun in Frank's hand.
"You and I both know that thing can't even penetrate my cape."
Frank didn't lower his gun, his eyes as cold as ice.
"The boss of Vought International, smashing through my ceiling in the middle of the night, you surely aren't here to sell me insurance, are you?"
"Of course not."
Lin An pulled over a broken folding chair and sat down, crossing his legs.
"I'm here to offer you a position."
"A position?"
Frank frowned.
"That's right. The Vought International Disciplinary Committee, or as we call it internally, the Brocade Guard."
Lin An spread his hands.
"I've read your resume: former Marine ace, family killed in a gang crossfire, now an avenging ghost in the night. This persona is just perfect for the dirty work our disciplinary committee does."
Butcher sneered from the side.
"Boss, this kid is just a regular guy who plays with guns. Are you sure he can control those superpowered animals in our company?"
Frank glanced at Butcher.
"Want to try?"
"Alright, alright, don't bare your teeth like two stray dogs fighting over territory."
Lin An waved his hand, interrupting both of them.
"Frank, I know what you want to do. You want to drag that fat pig, Kingpin, out of his penthouse apartment and blow his fat head off with one shot."
Frank's grip on the gun tightened.
"Join me, and I'll help you realize that dream."
Lin An cast the bait.
"Vought International has had its eye on Kingpin's assets for a long time. As long as you nod, I'll have Black Noir turn him into meat paste tomorrow."
"Not necessary."
Frank refused without a second thought, his voice as hard as stone.
"I'll get my own revenge. No need to trouble the high-and-mighty Homelander."
What a stubborn bastard.
Lin An rolled his eyes, complaining mentally.
Why do these heroes and anti-heroes in Marvel love individual heroism so much?
"You'll get it yourself?"
Lin An chuckled and pointed to the guns on the wall.
"With this scrap metal of yours? Or with that mortal flesh and blood body?"
Frank looked at him coldly.
"I've killed more people than you've ever seen."
"Yeah, yeah, you're a good fighter."
Lin An stood up, walked to Frank, and looked down at him.
"But do you understand the current version, brother? Times have changed!"
Lin An extended a finger and gently pressed it against the barrel of Frank's gun.
Sizzle—!
Blinding red light shot from Lin An's eyes, and in just 0.1 seconds, the M4A1 made of fine steel melted into a puddle of molten iron, dripping onto the floor.
Frank felt his hand lighten, stepped back twice, and his palm was burned bright red by the high temperature.
"Kingpin has spent a fortune hiring a large group of Mutants and superpowered mercenaries. Do you think you can still storm his lair with a gun like before?"
Lin An's voice was filled with absolute arrogance.
"You can't even beat one of his gatekeeping Tier 2 Mutants. You will never be able to get revenge yourself in this life, the next, or the life after that!"
Frank gritted his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead.
But he couldn't refute it.
Black Noir's crushing massacre tonight had completely shattered his understanding of force.
"So, I've brought you a choice."
Lin An pulled a glass test tube filled with glowing blue liquid from his pocket like a magic trick.
The test tube radiated a deadly temptation in the dim light.
"Compound V, a perfectly improved version."
Lin An held the test tube and shook it in front of Frank.
"Removed the fatality rate, forcibly raised the genetic limit. Just one injection, and you'll have the power to tear tanks apart and withstand missiles. In your eyes, Kingpin will become a bug that can be crushed at any time."
Frank stared at the blue liquid, his breathing becoming slightly heavy.
But the vigilance in his bones still hadn't disappeared.
"The price?"
"The price is that you have to wear my leash."
Lin An smiled without concealment.
"Become a member of the Vought Disciplinary Committee. From now on, whoever I tell you to bite, you bite. Whoever I tell you to kill, you chop into pieces and feed to the dogs."
Frank fell silent.
He was weighing the options.
Selling his soul, becoming a monster, in exchange for the absolute power of revenge.
"Think superpowers are only for monsters?"
Lin An saw his hesitation and turned to look at Butcher.
"Butcher, show our new colleague your 'regular guy' resume."
Butcher grinned, revealing a cruel smile.
As soon as he finished speaking, Butcher's eyes instantly lit up with terrifying golden light.
Boom!
Two scorching golden-yellow Heat Vision beams erupted from his eyes, sweeping directly across the weapon wall behind Frank.
Rows of automatic rifles, bulletproof vests, and C4 explosives were vaporized into ash the moment they touched the Heat Vision.
The entire reinforced concrete wall was sliced open, leaving a three-meter-long, half-meter-deep charred crack, and magma was still dripping from the edges of the rock.
Frank felt a terrifying heat wave wash over him, almost singeing his eyebrows.
He looked at Butcher in shock.
This power...
"See that?"
Butcher put away his Heat Vision, patted the dust off his trench coat, and cursed.
"As long as the boss is willing, even a stray dog on the street can become a dragon-slaying monster. What are you still hesitating about? Being an Avenger who hides in the sewer and rages impotently for the rest of your life?"
Frank took a deep breath.
He looked at the ashes on the floor, then at the glowing blue test tube in Lin An's hand.
His family's tragic death.
Kingpin's wild laughter.
And the deep sense of powerlessness from tonight.
Screw the mortal bottom line.
As long as he could send those scumbags to hell, what did it matter if he became a demon.
Frank lunged out, grabbing the Compound V from Lin An's hand.
"If this stuff isn't as miraculous as you say."
Frank stared dead at Lin An.
"I will shove this broken tube down your throat."
"I guarantee, you'll be so satisfied you'll scream."
Lin An burst into laughter, the sound echoing in the air-raid shelter.
Ding!
The system notification rang crisply in Lin An's mind.
[Congratulations to the host for successfully recruiting 'The Punisher' Frank Castle!]
[Triggered special bond 'Outlaw', when this employee executes violent missions, popularity value earnings increase by an additional 30%!]
The arc of Lin An's mouth grew wider.
The second mad dog of the disciplinary committee had been leashed.
"Take the shot, Frank."
Lin An turned around, preparing to fly out through the broken hole.
"After you finish mutating, go get a new skull tactical suit. Tomorrow morning, I want to see Kingpin's head on my desk."
"Also, remember to submit the invoice to Vought International's finance department."
Lin An soared into the sky and disappeared into the night.
Frank looked at the test tube in his hand, his eyes gradually becoming fanatical.
He didn't hesitate to pull off the cap, aimed it at his carotid artery, and stabbed it in hard.
Sizzle—!
The glowing blue liquid was instantly pumped into his blood vessels.
"Ah—!!!"
A repressed, extreme cry of pain erupted from deep within the air-raid shelter, like a demon crawling out of hell, finally breaking free from its shackles.
The New York underworld was going to be completely reshuffled tonight.
Chapter 64: Where Is Dad?
Bang!
A regular 9mm pistol round sounded like an anti-tank armor-piercing shell in the hands of Frank Castle.
A burly level-two Mutant working for Kingpin, whose iron-like body he had once been so proud of, was instantly torn apart as if it were made of paper; his upper body exploded into a mist of blood, and bits of flesh mixed with internal organs splattered all over the wall behind him.
Frank stood in the pool of blood, looking down at the smoking Glock in his hand, a bloodthirsty curve forming at the corner of his mouth.
"This drug... is fucking potent."
Over a dozen gangsters armed with AKs swarmed out of the hallway, bullets pouring onto Frank like rain.
Pfft, pfft, pfft!
The bullets pierced his signature skull-logo tactical suit and embedded themselves deep into his muscles, but not a single drop of blood flowed out.
Visibly, those bullets were forcefully squeezed out by his writhing muscle fibers, falling to the ground with a crisp clinking sound.
The wounds healed perfectly within a fraction of a second, leaving not even a white scar.
This was the super-regeneration brought about by Compound V.
Furthermore, Frank felt a surge of violent energy flowing from his palms into his firearm.
He casually picked up a rusty submachine gun dropped by a gangster and pulled the trigger.
The once feeble bullets were wrapped in a faint, eerie blue glow the moment they left the barrel.
Boom! Boom! Boom!
A half-meter-thick load-bearing wall, along with the three gangsters behind it, was blasted into rubble by these enchanted bullets.
Weapon armor-piercing enhancement—this was the terrifying aspect of The Punisher now.
"Kingpin, wash your neck and wait for me."
Frank tossed aside the empty submachine gun and drew two machetes from his tactical vest; the blades instantly lit up with a lethal blue glow.
Like an ancient beast breaking free from its chains, he dove headlong into the deepest darkness of Hells Kitchen.
Screams instantly erupted into the sky, echoing throughout the entire neighborhood.
At this moment, in the monitoring room on the top floor of Vought Tower.
Lin An leaned back in his large boss chair, swirling a glass of whiskey on the rocks, and watched the bloody, gore-filled scene in Hells Kitchen on the big screen, smacking his lips in satisfaction.
As expected of the toughest guy in Marvel; this efficiency in killing was far beyond Black Noir's pure physical auto-attacks, by who knows how much.
Built-in weapon enchantment—this guy was a walking armory.
He silently did the math in his head.
For every gangster The Punisher took out, his popularity points in the system backend skyrocketed like a taxi meter.
The effect of this "violent legal education" livestream was simply an artifact for harvesting leeks.
"Hughie, take a few field agents and keep an eye on things," Lin An pressed the internal intercom and instructed in a lazy tone.
"Don't interfere with his revenge, but don't let our outstanding employee get backstabbed on his first day of work either. That fat bastard Kingpin still has some cards up his sleeve; don't let my newly issued appointment go down the drain."
"Understood, boss. If the scene is too chaotic, should I collect the bodies? I mean, the enemies'."
Hughie's voice came through the intercom, carrying a hint of the coldness now expected of a discipline inspection cadre.
"Let the New York Police Department clean up the mess. We are a legitimate enterprise; we don't do dirty work like street sweeping."
Lin An cut the connection and stretched comfortably.
Working for others was impossible; as the boss, his task now was to enjoy life.
He had spent the last half-month recruiting talent and running a Battle Royale; come to think of it, he hadn't been home in a long time to see that "human-shaped walking popularity money-printing machine."
Manhattan, luxury penthouse apartment.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, a figure like a small cannonball lunged into Lin An's arms.
"Dad! You're finally back! Where did you go?"
Ryan hugged Lin An's thigh tightly, looking up with his fair, tender little face, his eyes sparkling.
"Aunt Natalie and I missed you so much!"
Lin An skillfully put on a perfect, loving father's smile, scooped up his son, tossed him into the air, and caught him steadily.
"Good boy, Dad has been saving the World lately, so I've been a bit busy. Come, let Dad see if you've been slacking off lately."
Ryan immediately scrambled out of Lin An's arms with excitement and ran to the center of the living room.
He took a deep breath, and his eyes instantly lit up with a faint red glow.
Hiss!
Two extremely thin beams of Heat Vision precisely struck an apple core on the coffee table.
"Well done!" Lin An praised him sincerely.
This kid's talent was truly terrifying; as long as he was nurtured properly, he would have a great future.
While praising him, Lin An looked up towards the kitchen.
Natasha, wearing a silk loungewear nightgown, was walking out carrying a tray of freshly baked cookies.
The once cold-blooded Black Widow now had her hair casually tied up and was wearing a pink teddy bear apron, but her graceful figure and the hidden allure in her every movement still carried a lethal attraction.
However, those green eyes looking at Lin An were full of resentment.
"The big boss still remembers to come back?" Natashaplaced the tray heavily on the marble island, her tone sour.
"I thought you had died on the belly of some female celebrity in Hawaii."
"How could that be? Fast food outside is nowhere near as good as the home-cooked meals here."
Lin An walked over, wrapped his arms around Natasha's slender waist, and took a deep breath against her fair neck.
Natasha's body stiffened, and she instinctively wanted to break free, but the sense of suppression etched into her bones made her eventually only struggle symbolically, instead pressing even closer.
"Dad, what is a female celebrity's belly?" Ryan asked, grabbing a cookie, his face full of innocence.
Lin An coughed dryly and bluffed without changing his expression: "Don't ask about adult matters, kid. Go, go to the basement training room and play the Superheroclearance game. If you hit the bullseye one hundred times with your Heat Vision, Dad will take you out for ice cream."
"Yay!" Ryan obediently took the cookie and ran off.
Only two people were left in the living room.
Lin An looked down at Natasha, whose eyes were already starting to glaze over in his arms, and a wicked smile curved at the corner of his mouth.
"We haven't seen each other in over half a month; isn't it time to hand in your homework?"
"Asshole... put me down! Ryan is still downstairs..."
"Don't worry, the soundproofing material in this house is exclusively provided by Stark Industries; no one outside can hear a thing."
With a bang, the master bedroom door was kicked shut.
Two hours later.
Natasha lay limply on Lin An's sturdy chest, lacking the strength to even lift a finger.
This man's stamina was simply monstrous; every time felt like experiencing a high-intensity suppression.
Lin An leaned against the headboard, lit a post-coital cigarette, and blew a smoke ring.
"By the way, dear. Contact the major TV stations and streaming platforms for me tomorrow; I want to plan a new show."
Natasha gave a sudden start, forced herself to lift her head, and her green eyes were instantly filled with terror.
"A new show? What are you up to again? John, just stop. If you keep doing these livestreams, the Military will really fight you to the death!"
Lin An looked at Natasha's "facing a formidable enemy" look and couldn't help but laugh.
"What are you thinking? In your eyes, am I just a pervert who only knows how to kill? I am the person who loves peace the most in this World."
"Then what on earth are you planning?" Natasha rolled her eyes.
Lin An grinned, revealing a mouthful of stark white teeth, smiling like an ultimate capitalist ready to harvest leeks globally.
"I want to bring Ryan to make his debut. This show won't involve fighting or killing. I've already thought of the name for the show,"
"Let's call it — 'Where Is Dad?'"
Natasha was completely dumbfounded; her brain raced, trying to understand what kind of World-destroying conspiracy could be hidden behind this name that sounded somewhat heartwarming.
"Where... Is Dad?" Natasha repeated stammeringly.
"It's... just a parent-child show??"
"What else? Should I take him to tear aliens apart with his bare hands?" Lin An said as a matter of course.
"We're going to experience life, farm in the countryside, and camp in the forest. I want the whole World to see what a great father I, Homelander, am."
Lin An was laughing wildly in his heart: Are you kidding? Ryan is a popularity point harvesting machine.
As soon as this show airs, with this extreme contrast of cuteness, wouldn't moms and animal lovers all over the World blow up the popularity ratings?
"But... will the audience watch this?" Natasha still felt it was unbelievable.
"Not only will they watch, they will tip like crazy." Lin Anpulled Natasha back into his arms, his hands beginning to wander mischievously.
"So, for the smooth preparation of the show, little maid, let's have an in-depth discussion about your schedule for tomorrow."
"You... you lunatic... mmh..."
"Don't..."
"Hmm?"
"Don't... stop."
Chapter 65: The Bizarre Show
Bang.
The blast door of the Stark Industries underground laboratory was kicked open.
A blinding spark streaked through the air from the welding pen in Tony's hand.
The spark flew past the edge of the newly installed miniature reactor.
He jerked his goggles up, glaring at the figure stepping on the ruined door.
"John! Do you have any idea how much this door is worth? Hundreds of thousands of dollars! Can't you just knock?"
Tony shouted at the top of his lungs, his beard trembling.
Lin An walked to the console and sank into the sofa.
He casually picked up a cigar from the table and took a puff.
"What the hell is this taste? It's more anti-human than Butcher's insoles."
"Liqun is still better to smoke."
With a look of disgust, Lin An tossed the cigar into the recycling bin, pulled out an imported Liqun, and took a satisfying drag.
"Go put on your flashiest suit, and bring your armor while you're at it. You're coming with me."
Lin An spoke first, interrupting his rant.
Tony stared at Lin An for a full ten seconds as if he were looking at a lunatic.
"Where? To the White House to twist the President's head off and use it as a bowling ball? I'm busy saving the World, I don't have time to play along with your madness."
Lin An pulled up the corners of his mouth, revealing eight snow-white teeth.
"I'm taking you to participate in a variety show."
The muscles on Tony's face twitched.
Lin An pulled a crumpled contract from his coat and slapped it onto the reactor casing.
"The show is called 'Where Are We Going, Dad?'"
The only sound left in the underground laboratory was the whirring of the exhaust fan.
Tony pointed at his own nose, his voice rising to the verge of cracking:
"Me, Tony Stark, the number one playboy of New York, and you want me to babysit?"
Lin An considerately pushed the contract toward Tony.
"I've already signed the contract for you. If you don't go, tomorrow's Wall Street Journal headline will be 'Iron ManGives the Middle Finger to Disabled Orphans'."
Tony gritted his teeth and grabbed the welding pen from the table.
"Can you be any more shameless?"
"Yes."
Blinding red light lit up in Lin An's eyes.
Two high-heat beams instantly melted the intact titanium alloy plate next to him into molten iron.
The molten iron pooled on the floor, forming a large "S" and "B".
"Are you going or not?"
Tony looked at the smoking titanium alloy plate and swallowed hard.
"I think experiencing family life occasionally is very beneficial for my physical and mental health."
Lin An snapped his fingers with satisfaction and turned toward the elevator.
"Half an hour, meet me at the entrance of the Second Orphanage in Hell's Kitchen. If you're late, I'll have a plane pull a banner across the sky over Manhattan displaying the color of your underwear, looping all day long."
Half an hour later.
Hell's Kitchen, Second St. Maria Orphanage.
This was the place where gangsters all over New Yorkloved to dump their illegitimate children.
Steve was wearing a tight, old-fashioned white T-shirt, his pectoral muscles, capable of cracking walnuts, stretching the fabric taut.
The ninety-something-year-old veteran was bending over, handing out Skittles to a freckled little girl.
Looking at this walking moral compass, Lin An forced down the corners of his mouth.
Dealing with this kind of persona didn't even require the use of force.
Lin An put on a sorrowful, compassionate expression and walked up quickly.
"Captain, look at these poor children. They have lost their parents, and lost the right to run under the Sun."
Steve straightened up, looking at the dirty orphans in the yard, tears welling up in his eyes.
He gripped the bag of candy in his hand tightly.
"Yes, the government cares too little for the lower classes."
Lin An took the opportunity to grasp Steve's rough hand, his tone sincere enough to win The Oscars:
"That's why I've decided, in the name of Vought International, to launch a globally broadcasted charity parenting show."
"Let the whole World see that even the loneliest flowers can bloom under the watering of a Superhero."
"Are you willing to contribute to the orphans of all America?"
Steve's eyes instantly turned red.
He gripped Lin An's hand back, his strength as firm as if he were taking an oath.
"Of course! It is my unshirkable duty!"
Standing not far away, Tony crossed his arms and rolled his eyes dramatically.
"Is this ninety-year-old virgin's brain filled entirely with muscle? He actually believes this nonsense."
Lin An couldn't be bothered with Tony's complaints and simply raised his right hand and snapped his fingers.
"All camera positions ready, start the livestream!"
Dozens of miniature drones specially made by Stark Industries instantly took off from the perimeter.
All-angle high-definition footage was simultaneously streamed to major global streaming platforms.
The number of online viewers broke the thirty-million mark in the third second of the broadcast.
The network lines groaned under the overwhelming flood of data.
The live chat screen was instantly flooded with comments:
"Holy crap! Is that Iron Man and Captain America?"
"Marvel and Vought teaming up for a parenting variety show? This World has gone crazy!"
"Homelander is going to be a dad to orphans across America? What kind of magical realism carnival is today!"
Lin An watched the popularity balance on his retina skyrocketing exponentially, feeling so good he almost hummed a tune.
Billions of fresh, tender leeks across the World were swaying in the wind.
"Dear viewers, welcome to the large-scale superpower parenting show 'Where Are We Going, Dad?'. All donations from this live broadcast will be gifted to the American Charity Orphanage."
Lin An flashed a standard professional smile at the drone camera in front of him.
"Today, two representatives of the American spirit will each lead a lucky orphan through an unforgettable day."
"Now, let's meet these cute little Angels."
The orphanage Dean tremblingly led two children out from behind the crowd.
The first one was wearing a baggy hoodie, sporting greasy dreadlocks, and was about ten years old.
The Dean pushed this little black boy in front of Tony.
Tony pushed up his sunglasses and looked down at him.
"Hey, little charcoal, what's your name?"
The boy let out a cold snort from his nose.
"Tyrone."
Tony tried to show off his damn mature man charm.
"Alright, Tyrone. I'm Tony Stark, billionaire, genius, you can call me Uncle Tony. By the way, where's your dad?"
Tyrone skillfully popped the bubble gum in his mouth and rolled his eyes dramatically.
"He said he was going to the nearby supermarket to pick up some supplies, then a white Police officer emptied three magazines into him, and he never came back."
The wind blew through the rusted iron gate of the orphanage, making a crisp "creak."
The fake smile on Tony's face froze instantly.
His sunglasses, worth twenty thousand dollars, slid down his nose to the tip.
The live chat paused for a brief moment, followed by a nuclear-level eruption:
"Hell joke! It's a hell joke right from the start!"
"Holy shit, can this World be a little friendlier to us Black people? He was just borrowing something from a neighbor."
Lin An turned around, biting his back teeth hard to keep from laughing like a pig.
Tony scrambled to push his sunglasses back into place.
"That's a truly sad story... It's okay, I will donate a batch of supplies to your orphanage in the name of Stark Industries!"
Tyrone squinted at this Iron Man in a high-end custom suit.
"What kind of supplies? Cotton?"
Tony pressed his temples.
"I'd like to retract that last statement."
Lin An turned his head to look at the child assigned to Steve.
That was a white boy with dyed pink hair and three lip piercings.
Steve knelt on one knee, looking at him at eye level, revealing Captain America's signature sunny smile.
He reached out his large hand and patted the boy's head gently.
"Hello, little one. I'm Steve Rogers. You look like a very spirited young man."
The boy jumped back a large step and slapped Steve's hand away.
He stared at the veteran in front of him as if he were looking at a World War II war criminal.
"What did you just call me? 'Young man'? How dare you assume my gender?!"
Steve's hand, suspended in the air, froze.
"Huh?"
The boy put his hands on his hips and skillfully began his output.
"I am biologically male, but my psychological identity is a transgender, non-binary, vegan attack helicopter!"
"Your address just now was serious sexism and patriarchal oppression!"
Steve, this veteran who had been dug out of a glacier from 1945 and had only been awake for less than half a month, had his brain completely crash.
He turned his head, his gaze switching back and forth between Lin An and the pink-haired boy.
"Attack helicopter?"
Lin An walked over and patted Steve's broad shoulder heavily.
"Times have changed, Captain. It's not popular to fight Nazis anymore; it's popular to fight under the rainbow flag."
Steve took a deep breath, trying to use his simple set of values to understand this crazy new World.
He squeezed out a somewhat reluctant smile again.
"Alright, kid... then what do you usually like to eat? How about I make you a beef burger?"
The pink-haired boy let out a sharp, piercing screech.
"Meat?! You're actually making me eat an animal's corpse?! Do you know that the carbon emissions from animal husbandry are destroying this Planet?! You executioner, murderer of the Earth!"
Steve's pupils trembled violently.
He had spent his life in battle, carrying his shield to smash HYDRA, beat up Red Skull, and even dared to slam the table on S.H.I.E.L.D. bureaucrats.
But he had never dreamed of seeing such a bizarre species in his life.
Captain America's unbreakable worldview was collapsing at a speed visible to the naked eye.
The live stream's popularity surged past the one hundred million mark, and the comments densely covered the entire screen:
"Captain America is about to be driven crazy by this 'version answer'!"
"The old antique was ruthlessly crit-hit by modern political correctness magic!"
"magic defeating physics; the planner of this show is an absolute genius!"
Seeing that the timing was about right, Lin An took Ryan, who had been standing behind him, and walked out.
He forcibly pulled the style back to the track of a parenting variety show.
"To foster the father-son bond, our first task today is to personally make lunch for the children."
"The location is the wilderness campsite outside. Using any cash or cards is prohibited; you can only use the materials on-site."
Tony let out a sneer.
"Cooking? Do you think this can stump a genius with thirteen Dr. degrees?"
Ten minutes later.
Outside the wilderness campsite.
Tony was lying in the mud, butt in the air.
He was clutching two sticks in his hand, rubbing them frantically against a smooth stone.
"How can this thing possibly produce fire? This completely violates the laws of thermodynamics!"
Tony was sweating profusely and threw the sticks down.
The black boy, Tyrone, was squatting nearby, arms crossed.
"Iron Man, are you actually capable of anything? If not, I'll go to the nearby supermarket and borrow a few lighters."
Tony twitched his mouth.
"No need, I'm afraid you and your peanuts will be full."
Chapter 66: Scout Operations
Everyone was preparing to enjoy the wild pheasant that Lin An had caught.
In the bushes deep in the dense forest not far away, over twenty fully armed mercenaries lay in wait.
Camouflage uniforms, tactical helmets, holding HK416s equipped with silencers.
The bald man in the very front was not holding a gun.
He was toying with three polished, custom-made darts, and there was a target tattoo on his forehead.
"Boss, can we really do this job? I heard the super-powered individuals from Vought International are really tough!" the one-eyed mercenary next to him whispered.
Bullseye scoffed, spinning a dart in his hand like a flower.
"Vought International? They're just traffic-generating idols pushed out by an entertainment company. You believe that? It's all just for show!"
"The boss has spoken. Kingpin's exact words: Give this upstart from Vought International a lesson they'll never forget. Three of the big boss's properties were smashed; this face needs to be recovered."
The one-eyed mercenary wanted to say something else.
"Shut up, put on the thermal imaging."
Bullseye's eyes were vicious. "These idiots actually ran into this crappy forest to record some variety show, and didn't even bring a bodyguard. Take out the two old ones, kidnap the kids, and as for that Homelander... the boss said just keep him alive."
Lin An was preparing to sprinkle some cumin.
His movements stopped.
His super hearing delivered every word of the whispering from half a kilometer away into his ears.
Ten thousand question marks floated over Lin An's head.
Is Kingpin in the late stages of brain atrophy?
This fat guy doesn't go online himself, and his subordinates don't watch the live streams either?
I, the dignified and invincible Homelander, and you send twenty muggle mercenaries who aren't even Mutants to kidnap me?
And keep me alive?
Lin An really wanted to open up his skull to see what Kingpin was thinking.
The Punisher just smashed his properties; he should be buying a standing ticket to run away today, yet he dares to walk into my line of fire.
This isn't just delivering a head.
This is express delivery of ashes to the doorstep.
However...
Lin An rolled his eyes, his gaze sweeping over the frazzled Tony, and then looking at the despairing Steve next to him.
Isn't this ready-made content for the show?
"Everyone, dads, interrupt for a moment." Lin An tapped the iron pot in his hand, producing a crisp sound.
The drone camera zoomed in.
Tony was being mocked by the black kid named Tyrone for not even being able to start a fire, his face covered in soot.
Steve was listening to the pink-haired boy tearfully accuse the roasted chicken of damaging Earth's atmosphere.
"What's wrong?" Tony turned back with a bad attitude. "You aren't going to announce that we have to eat bugs tonight to supplement our protein, are you?"
"It's much more fun than that."
Lin An threw down the spatula and faced the camera. "Dear audience, a bland picnic is hard to reflect true fatherly love. Therefore, the production team has specially arranged a hidden segment—Wilderness Scout Combat Defense Drill!"
Steve was stunned: "What drill?"
Lin An pointed to the dense forest at the nine o'clock direction.
"Over there, there are over twenty armed Terroristsapproaching us. They are well-equipped, murderous, and have threatened to kidnap the children."
Tyrone rolled his eyes: "Vought International's script is really bad."
The pink-haired boy crossed his arms: "I protest! This is promoting violent culture! Guns are just totems used by the patriarchy to oppress vulnerable groups!"
"Whether it's a script or not, you'll know soon enough."
As soon as Lin An finished speaking.
Swish, swish, swish!
Three custom-made darts sliced through the air, impossibly accurate, sticking into the iron pot in front of Lin An, penetrating two layers of stainless steel and embedding deep into the wood.
Immediately after, over twenty pitch-black gun barrels poked out from the bushes, with infrared aiming dots densely falling on everyone.
Bullseye walked out from behind a tree, the target tattoo on his bald head exceptionally conspicuous in the sunlight.
"Don't move! Put your hands up!" the one-eyed mercenary roared.
The scene was quiet for two seconds.
Tony looked at the darts on the iron pot, then looked at Bullseye.
"Lin An, where did your company hire these extras? This tattoo on his forehead is too cheap; was it done in Hells Kitchen for fifty bucks?" Tony couldn't help but roast him.
The veins on Bullseye's forehead bulged.
"I am Bullseye! Kingpin's number one assassin! Who the hell is an extra!"
He suddenly pulled two pistols from his waist and pulled the triggers toward the sky.
Bang bang!
The huge gunshot echoed in the forest, startling a flock of birds.
Steve instinctively stepped forward, blocking the pink-haired boy behind him. The veteran's muscle memory activated, his gaze locked tightly on the trajectory of the twenty-plus automatic rifles opposite him.
"Real guns." Steve lowered his voice. "Tony, take the kids and find cover."
Tony finally stopped playing around this time. With a flick of his wrist, a mechanical watch quickly expanded into a repulsor emitter.
"This is a big mess now." Tony gritted his teeth. "John, you lunatic! You knew it all along, didn't you?!"
Lin An completely ignored him and turned directly to the drone camera.
"Did you see that, family? This is the real reaction when a crisis strikes! The great Captain America and Iron Man are already prepared to protect the weak! But it's not enough to rely on them alone; today, what we want to see is the bond!"
Lin An pulled his son Ryan to his front.
"Son, see that bald guy?"
Ryan nodded obediently: "I see him, Dad, he's very ugly."
"That's right. He wants to steal your little cookies and hit your dad, what should we do?"
Ryan clenched his little hands into fists, and a red halo appeared in his originally blue eyes.
Bullseye couldn't understand what kind of crazy dialogue these people were saying at all, but he felt he had been severely humiliated.
Assassins don't need to talk nonsense.
"Fire! Kill them all! Keep the kids alive!" Bullseye waved his hand violently.
Da da da da!
Twenty-plus HK416s spat fire simultaneously.
Steve was about to tackle the boy next to him.
Tony was about to raise his repulsor.
Zzz—!
Two extremely scorching scarlet beams shot out from the eyes of the seven or eight-year-old fair-skinned little boy.
That was simply not the power a child should have.
The beams swept across.
The gun barrels in the hands of the five mercenaries in the front row melted directly into molten iron, and their tactical vests were cut open along with them. Before they could even scream, the people had already turned into charred remains.
That wasn't all.
Ryan was startled by the gunfire and instinctively closed his eyes and scanned blindly.
The red high-heat beams, like two hundred-meter-long lightsabers, sliced wildly through the dense forest.
Ancient trees as thick as three people could embrace were cut in half at the waist, and huge tree crowns collapsed.
The rocks on the ground were burned into red-hot magma. The mercenaries flew around like dumplings being dropped into a pot; as long as they touched a bit of the red light, they were directly vaporized.
Tony held his repulsor, his mouth wide open.
Steve maintained his diving posture, his whole body frozen in place.
Tyrone popped the bubblegum in his mouth and cursed: "Holy crab, are these special effects this realistic?!"
The pink-haired boy was completely speechless, even forgetting his lines about being a transgender attack helicopter.
Less than five seconds.
The fire coverage ended.
Ryan stopped his Heat Vision, rubbed his eyes, and turned to look at Lin An: "Dad, I missed a few."
Lin An touched his son's head, full of love: "It's okay, it's your first combat experience, it's normal for the aim to drift a little. Pay attention to recoil control next time."
The bushes in front had completely disappeared.
Only a thirty-meter-wide, charred, and smoking firebreak remained on the ground.
Of the twenty mercenaries, only three were left alive, lying on the ground clutching their severed hands and feet, screaming.
Bullseye was lucky; the position he was standing in just happened to be in the blind spot of the beams.
But he was shaking all over now.
The dart in his hand dropped to the ground, making a crisp sound.
This was the perverted serial killer Bullseye, the kind of guy who treated human lives as a game every day. But now, looking at that seven or eight-year-old child, it was like looking at a primordial beast in human skin.
Isn't this a kid-raising variety show?!
This is a monster incubator!!
The live stream chat was completely covered with comments, and the server backend data was frantically sounding alarms.
[WTF, WTF, WTF!!! This kid can shoot lasers from his eyes?!]
[That's Homelander's son! His biological son! Absolutely biological!]
[Who said they were extras just now? Can extras be burned to ashes?!]
Lin An glanced at the system panel; his popularity points were skyrocketing at a rate of tens of thousands per second, faster than a money printing machine.
He was in a great mood and slowly walked up to Bullseye, who was sitting paralyzed on the ground.
Bullseye crawled backward using his hands and feet, finally touched a pistol, and pulled the trigger frantically at Lin An's head.
Bang bang bang!
The bullets hit Lin An's face, not even leaving a red mark, all turning into flat copper discs and falling to the ground.
Lin An sighed.
"Does Kingpin not include an IQ tax when he pays your salary?"
He extended two fingers, pinched the gun barrel, and squeezed the entire gun into a lump of scrap metal like he was kneading playdough.
Then he stepped on Bullseye's knee.
The sound of bone shattering was clearly transmitted into the drone's microphone.
Bullseye let out a heart-wrenching scream and passed out from the pain on the spot.
Lin An turned around and patted the dust off his hands toward the camera.
"Alright friends! Danger averted! This was a perfect combat defense drill! Thanks to the helpful citizen Mr. Bald for his guest appearance, Vought International will fully reimburse the medical expenses."
Steve climbed up from the ground and patted the dirt off his body.
He looked at Lin An, his eyes full of disapproval.
"No matter who they are, they should be judged by the law. You let a child do it..."
"Captain." Lin An interrupted him and pointed to the side.
The pink-haired boy who was shouting about environmental protection was looking at Ryan with glowing eyes.
"That was so cool! How did you do that just now?! Can you teach me? I think besides being an attack helicopter, I can also be a laser cannon!"
Steve was completely speechless.
The old popsicle's values were completely reshaped today, not even leaving a scrap behind.
Lin An picked up the iron pot again and poured the two broken eggs into it.
"Alright! After beating up the bad guys, now it's time to enjoy the spoils of war! Dads, continue to start the fire and cook! Folks in the live stream, those who want to see Iron Man's wilderness survival, click follow; those who want to buy the same Captain America shield and tights, click on the yellow cart in the bottom left corner!"
"The first special episode of 'Where Are We Going, Dad?', perfect ending!"
The drone circled the field once, freezing on the curling smoke rising next to the ruins.
And in the deepest part of Hells Kitchen.
"Boss, quick, watch the live stream...!"
Kingpin looked at the live stream screen of total annihilation on the tablet handed over by his assistant, his fat body pressing the pure gold boss chair until it creaked.
The cigar in his hand dropped onto his crotch, burning a hole.
"Get the car ready... no, arrange a private jet immediately! Leave now! The farther, the better!"
The emperor of the underworld finally learned how to go online today.
Chapter 67: Encountering Parker, Magneto Escapes
Lin An stuffed the last ink-scented Benjamin into his crocodile skin wallet.
On the system panel, the popularity rating that had skyrocketed due to the variety show "Where Are We Going, Dad?" made even the air he breathed feel exceptionally sweet.
The lingering effect of the parenting variety show was immense; clips of Captain America getting slammed for his transgender comments and Tony's viral meme videos were still hanging at the top of YouTube's trending list.
As the mastermind behind the scenes and the biggest winner, Lin An decided to give himself a half-day off.
Shedding that posturing Stars and Stripes uniform, he slipped into a casual suit, disguising himself as an ordinary Wall Street finance douchebag, ready to experience some daily capitalist consumption.
After passing through two blocks, the bustling streetscape was replaced by old apartment buildings with peeling paint.
Lin An turned into an alley.
A stench of urine mixed with the acrid smell of low-quality marijuana hit him in the face.
It was just right.
This smell, these filthy graffiti-covered walls, the homeless people lying around like corpses—without these, how could he dare say he was walking on the soil of New York?
"Hey, bro."
Three wandering NPCs spawned right on time in the shadows.
The black guy in the lead had dreadlocks that hadn't been washed in half a month, and he was toying with a butterfly knife in his hand.
The other two flanked him from left and right, and one of them pulled a foul-smelling Glock pistol from his crotch.
"Nice outfit," the guy with the gun grinned, revealing yellow teeth, and spat a glob of phlegm onto the ground. "Toss the wallet over. That watch on your wrist, and those shoes on your feet—take them all off."
Lin An looked down at the thirty-thousand-dollar custom pair on his feet.
This is free America, gunfights every day.
Not only was he not angry, but he was actually amused.
Usually, being the high-and-mighty savior Homelander, holding up airs all day was exhausting; this authentic street-level looting experience was simply the best mental relief.
Isn't this more exciting than going to Hollywood to watch those politically correct blockbusters?
He slowly and deliberately pulled the crocodile skin wallet from his pocket and opened it in front of the three men.
A thick stack of green hundred-dollar bills made a crisp sound as he flicked through them with his fingers.
"You know, I actually quite appreciate your rustic way of working," Lin An tossed the wallet into the air.
"Not so many twists and turns, direct and efficient. It's just that the safety on this gun isn't even off; you're very inexperienced at this business."
The guy with the gun froze for a second and looked down at the Glock in his hand.
The red light in Lin An's eyes began to gather.
He was calculating whether to crush the heads of these three like tomatoes or perform an amputation surgery on them to help the New York Police Department boost their crime-related death rate stats for the month.
The fire escape above his head suddenly let out a screeching metallic friction sound.
"Hey! You three guys! I bet your mothers definitely taught you before you left the house not to just take money from strangers!"
A whistling sound came crashing down overhead.
Accompanied by a soft "thwip" sound, a clump of sticky white gel precisely hit the barrel of the Glock, and a huge pulling force yanked it, flipping both the gun and the man into a pile of trash.
A red and blue figure arched through the air in a grand loop and landed lightly between Lin An and the group of robbers.
The newcomer crouched on the ground, one hand supporting him, the spiderweb pattern on his back very visible under the outline of the spandex suit.
The red light in Lin An's eyes faded away completely.
He stared at the red and blue suit, looking at the somewhat rough stitching on the person's buttocks.
The number one workaholic of the Marvel Universe, the embodiment of poverty and chatter, the top-tier cash cow whose merchandise sales crushed the entire Avengersfamily—Peter Parker, Spider-Man.
Before the robbers could react, Spider-Man had already sprung into action like a flea.
"Thwip, thwip, thwip!"
The sound of web-shooters rang out in succession.
The butterfly knife was pasted against the wall, the dreadlocked black guy was hung upside down on a two-meter-high lamppost struggling frantically, and the remaining one hadn't even managed to run out of the alley before being tightly wrapped into a human-shaped cocoon by a giant spider web.
The entire process took less than five seconds.
Lin An looked at this underage Superhero whose height only reached his chin, the abacus beads in his mind already clicking away.
Traffic! This was walking super traffic!
What was even better was that this kid's poverty-stricken attribute was simply the easiest weakness to manipulate.
Offer him a contract with a million-dollar base salary, throw in some social security, and he would be so grateful he'd work for Vought International until his next life.
"What's your name?" Lin An put away his wallet, put on that highly affable successful businessman persona, and straightened his tie.
"You can call me Spider-Man! Your friendly neighborhood hero, specializing in dealing with street-level petty thieves, and occasionally helping old ladies cross the street."
Peter Parker put his hands on his hips, clearly satisfied with this new codename, but he immediately scratched the back of his head again.
"Um... sir, if you really want to thank me, would you be interested in buying a sandwich at Aunt Mei's diner in Queens? I highly recommend their tuna flavor; mostly because the owner is a really nice person."
He was so poor he had to come here to solicit business.
Lin An resisted the urge to laugh out loud.
"Hey, don't move, guys. This webbing won't dissolve for two hours."
Parker landed with a light backflip and casually shot another clump of white goo to seal the mouth of the guy with the gold chain who was currently cursing.
"By the way, your gold chain is fading; it's dyed your neck green. Don't you check your gear before you go out robbing?"
This kid's habit of running his mouth was exactly the same as in the original film.
Parker clapped his hands and turned to look at Lin An. The two large eyes on his mask grew and shrank due to the tension of his facial muscles.
"Whoa, man, you are really calm. If I hadn't been swinging by here, that suit of yours—which looks more expensive than my food budget for three years—would have been covered in mud."
The little Spider was gesticulating wildly, his mouth like a radio without an off switch.
"Next time, don't take out so much cash to show off; this is the edge of Hell's Kitchen, and the locals have a natural fanaticism for high-end leather and Benjamins."
"Bang!"
A piercing gunshot tore through the silence of the alley.
Muzzle flash erupted from a pile of abandoned tires behind Parker.
The fourth robber had been hiding in the shadows the whole time, and his target wasn't Spider-Man at all, but the suit-wearing man who looked very rich.
The pupils under Peter Parker's mask contracted sharply.
His Spider-Sense was screaming, but his attention had been entirely on chatting and the three robbers.
It was too late to dive in front of the bullet.
The brass bullet tip cut a visible trail through the air, heading straight for Lin An's brow.
"No!" Parker's voice cracked, his eyes filled with despair.
An innocent life was about to be ended in front of him; this was the scene he feared seeing the most.
Lin An didn't even blink.
His right hand pulled out from his suit pocket.
Two slender fingers pinched gently in mid-air.
The 9mm brass bullet tip stopped steadily between Lin An's two fingers.
Due to the intense kinetic friction, the surface of the bullet tip was hissing with white smoke, and a pungent smell of gunpowder filled the air.
WTF?
All four robbers stared with wide eyes, as if they had seen Jesus descend to earth.
Parker remained in the posture of reaching out to grab it, frozen in place, his brain completely crashed.
That was a bullet.
Just like that... caught with two fingers?
Lin An pinched the scorching bullet tip, his fingertips exerting force.
The brass was kneaded into an irregular thin sheet.
He curled his finger and flicked the copper sheet lightly.
With a crisp "clang" sound.
The copper sheet embedded itself two inches deep into the brick wall next to the shooter's feet.
The robber's legs went weak, and he knelt on the ground, urine streaming down his baggy jeans onto the concrete floor.
Lin An pulled out a handkerchief and wiped his fingers.
"Admirable courage."
Parker finally snapped out of his daze, swallowed, his voice wavering: "You... you are a super-powered being?"
"John. Or perhaps you are more familiar with my other title, Homelander."
Lin An straightened his suit tie, walked forward, and patted Peter on the shoulder.
"The CEO of Vought International? That Superheroleader?" Parker was so shocked he took half a step back, his eyes behind the mask wide as saucers.
"Oh my God, I've seen you in the newspapers. You actually go out without wearing your uniform?"
"Because today is a day off." Lin An's gaze swept over the cheap, homemade web-shooters on Parker's wrists, and that pilled red and blue spandex suit.
"As for you, friendly neighborhood hero of New York. Your skills are good, but your gear is terrible. Did you make this suit out of your aunt's old pajamas? The seams are about to burst."
Parker subconsciously covered a hole in his buttocks, his tone somewhat awkward: "Uh, funds are limited..."
He really was a penniless pauper through and through.
"Are you interested in changing your work environment?" Lin An pulled a gold-embossed business card from his inner suit pocket and handed it over, held between two fingers.
"Fighting crime on the streets is cool, but it won't fill your stomach. Vought International is currently expanding the 'Dragon Team' roster. The annual salary is a million dollars."
Lin An leaned in slightly, staring at Parker's mask, and lowered his voice: "You can continue to be your friendly neighborhood hero of New York, the difference being, you won't have to go to the pizza place to deliver orders for that pathetic hourly wage anymore. You can earn a salary openly, and by the way, let that hardworking aunt of yours move into a luxury flat in Manhattan. How about it, Peter Parker?"
When that last name was spoken, the boy opposite him shuddered.
"You... how do you know my name?" Parker's voice carried clear panic.
"Vought International's intelligence network is much larger than you imagine."
Lin An tucked the business card into the gap in the chest of Parker's uniform. "Keep it safe. When you've thought it through, come to Vought Tower and find me anytime. Remember, capital isn't entirely evil, as long as you are standing on the side that gets paid."
Just as he finished speaking, his specially encrypted phone in his suit pocket vibrated.
He answered.
Madelyn's slightly off-key, shrill voice came through the receiver.
"Boss! Something's happened!" Madelyn didn't even leave time to breathe, "Erik Lehnsherr has broken out of prison!"
Lin An's emotions didn't fluctuate in the slightest; he casually tossed a hundred-dollar bill at a roadside hot dog stand and picked up a hot dog slathered in yellow mustard.
"Have the PR department edit all the surveillance footage of Magneto's prison break. Pair it with the most intense doomsday crisis background music, buy up all the outdoor big screens and streaming media headlines, and play it on a twenty-four-hour loop."
Madelyn on the other end of the phone was completely stunned: "This will cause panic across America!"
"That's exactly what I want: panic." Lin An chewed on the bun and replied indistinctly, "Without a world-ending villain, how can you highlight the greatness of a savior? Superheroes in peaceful times are worthless."
He crumpled the hot dog wrapper in his hand.
"Don't disappoint me, King of Pretension."
"I hope the next appearance is even bigger."
Chapter 68: Persuading Mystique
Peter Parker stood in the wind, utterly bewildered, clutching the gold-embossed business card.
Lin An had already left.
The underground special detention zone of the Vought Tower.
Madelyn followed behind Lin An, her forehead covered in a fine layer of cold sweat.
At the end of the corridor, the explosion-proof glass of the isolation room specially built for Magneto was shattered all over the floor.
It was completely empty inside, with only a chair lying overturned amidst the plastic debris.
Lin An stood outside the door with his hands in his pockets, staring at the gap in the ventilation duct that had been violently torn open.
"Spill it. How did he escape?"
"The security system detected a brief, high-intensity electromagnetic pulse interference..." Madelyn swallowed hard, her voice trembling as she clutched her tablet. "Surveillance footage froze for three seconds. By the time it resumed, he was gone. We suspect there was assistance from a high-level Mutant on the outside..."
"It's not a suspicion; it's a certainty." Lin An turned his head. "A metal-free prison built with hundreds of millions of dollars, and they successfully broke him out in just a few minutes. Madelyn, if you resigned to make comedy films in Hollywood, you'd definitely win the annual box office championship."
Madelyn's legs went weak, and she almost fell to her knees.
"Alright, drop that look like your father just died." Lin Anwaved his hand, not bothering to look at her. "Do as I instructed on the phone just now. Pump up the panic among American citizens to the absolute limit. With Magneto escaping, the Dragon Team's approval rating tomorrow will at least triple."
Madelyn felt as if she had been granted a great pardon. She nodded repeatedly and turned to organize the PR team as if running for her life.
Lin An stood in place and stretched his neck.
Magneto had left in quite a hurry, without even leaving any parting words.
However, he seemed to have left something behind.
Lin An turned around and walked toward the adjacent confinement room.
He quickly typed a sequence of numbers on the passcode keypad.
The heavy isolation door slid open slowly.
A blue figure was curled up in the corner.
Raven, or rather, Mystique.
Her blue scales gleamed dimly in the faint light.
Hearing the door open, she didn't even lift her head, looking like a soulless blue sculpture.
Lin An pulled over a plastic chair and sat down.
This was the woman with the shape-shifting ability.
Lin An was secretly amused.
When he surfed the internet in his past life, the outrageous comments from the guys on the Tieba forums were still fresh in his memory: "Having Mystique is equivalent to having every female celebrity in the World."
The imagination of those old perverts was truly mind-blowing.
Lin An cleared his throat.
"Have you had lunch?"
An extremely mundane, completely out-of-place piece of small talk.
Mystique finally lifted her eyelids. Her yellow, beast-like eyes were lifeless, without a single spark of light.
"If you're going to kill me, just do it. Don't play these disgusting mind games. I won't say a thing." Her voice was hoarse, filled with the resignation of someone who had nothing left to lose.
"Why would I kill you? Wouldn't it be better to keep you on display and charge admission?"
"I'm here to inform you of something. Your dear boss, Erik Lehnsherr, escaped from prison half an hour ago."
Mystique suddenly snapped her head up, a burst of ecstasy erupting in her previously lifeless yellow eyes.
She stood up from the floor.
"He got out?"
"Yes, he got out." Lin An nodded calmly.
Mystique straightened her back.
"You can't keep us trapped. Eric will reform the Brotherhood, and he will level your Vought Internationalto the ground..."
"And then, your name wasn't even on his evacuation list." Lin An spoke up, precisely cutting off her passionate speech.
The expression on Mystique's face froze.
"You're lying." Mystique took half a step back, her voice starting to tremble.
"What would I gain by lying to you? That your blue skin looks good? Cough, cough..."
Lin An let out a snort, suddenly pausing as something crossed his mind.
—Avatar is exactly what I want!
Raven was completely baffled by him.
Lin An put away his inappropriate thoughts and continued.
"Raven, use your brain. An extreme terrorist like Eric, who would slaughter all of humanity like rats just for the rise of Mutants, only cares about power and the big picture. You? You're just a spy who can turn into other people, a tool to be sacrificed at any moment."
"He didn't take you because you're a liability who would slow down his escape." Every word Lin An spoke stabbed precisely at Mystique's sore spot.
Mystique slumped back into the corner, biting her lip.
The way this woman's faith collapsed was truly pitiful.
But she was also incredibly easy to fool.
Lin An stood up and paced over to her.
"What is your ideal? To let Mutants live openly in the light, without having to hide like sewer rats, right?"
Mystique remained silent.
"Following an old terrorist like Magneto, setting off bombs and launching terrorist attacks everywhere. What did you get in return? Aside from being chased across the World by the Military with heavy weapons, and making ordinary people scream and call the police the moment they see you, you haven't gained a shred of respect."
"And what about you?"
"Is there a future in following a tyrant like you who treats lives like a colosseum game? You're even more cold-blooded than Eric; you're just a ruthless, blood-sucking capitalist monster!"
Mystique cursed at him.
Lin An wasn't angry.
Well scolded. That was the highest praise for a capitalist elite.
"Madelyn," Lin An called into the communicator on his wrist.
A minute later, a holographic projection lit up on the white wall of the confinement room.
Lin An turned sideways and pointed at the projection screen. "Come and see how the tyrant you speak of is carving out a future for Mutants."
In the footage, a commercial was playing on the giant screen in New York Times Square.
Cyclops was smiling at the camera, promoting a pair of UV-protection sunglasses made by Stark Industries.
The screen cut to another scene.
Storm was delivering a speech at the United Nationspodium as the global environmental ambassador for Vought International.
Iceman Bobby was signing autographs for a crowd of screaming high school girls at a book signing in Los Angeles, surrounded by flashing cameras. The kid's smile was so wide his back molars were showing.
"You recognize them, right? Charles's star students." Lin Anpaced in front of the projection, gesturing grandly. "A month ago, they didn't even dare to use their abilities while grocery shopping just to hide their identities. Now? They are the hottest stars in America. A single tweet from them gets millions of likes. When they walk down the street, ordinary people no longer call SWAT; they rush forward, crying and begging for photos."
Mystique's eyes widened. She couldn't believe what she was seeing.
These Mutants, who once couldn't coexist with humans, were actually living more lavishly than Hollywood superstars.
"This... this is fake! This is just an illusion packaged with your money!"
Lin An slapped the wall, his voice suddenly rising. "But are the eight-figure balances in their bank accounts fake? Are the adoring looks from ordinary people fake? Is it fake that Mutants can be celebrated without having to bleed and die?"
He turned around, looking down at Raven.
"Times have changed, you idiots. You're still focusing on fighting and killing. Control public opinion, package yourselves as gods using the rules of capital. When everyone sees you as super idols, who cares if your genes are mutated? They will only cheer! They'll think you're unique!"
Lin An extended a hand and held it in front of Mystique.
"Now, I'll give you two choices. First, keep squatting here, waiting for your old partner who abandoned you to attack New York, and get yourself buried in the rubble along the way."
"Second, sign my contract. I'll give you top-tier packaging, global traffic, and let you truly live under everyone's spotlight."
Lin An lowered his voice.
"Don't you want to be just like them, stepping on the humans who once despised you, and making them willingly empty their pockets for you?"
Mystique looked up, staring at the hand extended before her.
On the holographic projection, the brilliant smiles of her fellow Mutants kept flashing.
Echoing in her mind was the cold decisiveness of Eric when he abandoned her without even looking back.
After a long time.
A blue hand, covered in fine scales, slowly rose and rested on Lin An's palm.
Lin An gripped her hand and pulled her up.
A total and absolute win.
It was truly a waste of talent that he didn't become a pyramid scheme leader.