On a bustling main street filled with traffic, Butcher walked past a newsstand, "One copy of the Daily Bugle."
The front page carried a photo of Homelander sending a guy in powered armor up into the sky.
The headline read, [A-Train's Brother Takes Revenge on Society, Receives Homelander's Judgment.]
Butcher let out a cold laugh. Then the bearded man glanced toward the bar across the street, lit a cigarette, and smoked half of it.
"Fack it! Might as well take a walk."
He tossed the remaining half of the cigarette onto the ground, stomped it twice, and crossed the street with the newspaper in hand.
A moment later, Butcher slipped into the bar.
The bar was filled with mixed smells. A woman was pole dancing, while a bunch of addicts huddled in dark corners smoking weed.
"This world is facked up," The corner of Butcher's mouth lifted, "But I like it."
He sat down at the bar. Just as he ordered a "depth charge," he heard someone say, "Get him a whiskey too. It's on me."
Butcher looked up at the white man wearing glasses, "What should I call you?"
"A name is just a label. What it's called doesn't really matter, does it, Mr. 'Butcher'?", The white man sat down and wiped his glasses, "I'm glad you contacted me. This is a pretty good start."
Butcher drank the depth charge and said, "Cut the crap. This better be real, what you said about having the 'power' to fight those Supes."
"Otherwise, I'll carve up that pretty face of yours and let a few rough bastards enjoy your warm rectum."
The white man put his glasses back on and smiled, "Come with me."
Butcher finished the depth charge and the whiskey together, then followed the man. They passed through the frenzied dance floor, squeezed through corridors packed with men and women, and finally arrived at an alley behind the bar.
There was a truck parked there.
The white man made a phone call, and the truck's cargo door opened, cold-colored light spilling out.
He nodded toward the truck with his chin, "The 'power' you want to see is right in there."
Butcher smiled, "If you dare lie to me, I'll find your mother and fack her straight into heaven."
The white man laughed, "Mr. Butcher, you really have a heavy taste. But don't worry, I'm not lying to you."
"We don't have that kind of time."
Butcher let out a humorless chuckle and climbed into the truck, walking toward the back of the cargo hold.
Inside, cables were spread everywhere. A table stood nearby, covered with various instruments.
And in front of him was a suit of steel armor, dominated by black, accented with luxurious gold, and displaying numerous weapons platforms.
"Overlord No. 5. Powered by a small nuclear reactor, equipped with radiation shielding to ensure the wearer's physical safety."
"A newly added jet system allows for short-distance flight and enhances climbing ability."
"Weapons include small rapid-fire machine guns in both arms, small guided missiles on the shoulders, retractable small aircraft cannons, and laser cutting waves powered by the reactor."
"No exaggeration. Put it on, and even a complete sports idiot could beat a superhuman until he shits himself."
Behind Butcher, the white man with glasses walked up and explained everything in detail.
The bearded man narrowed his eyes slightly, then shook his head, "This kind of thing isn't something I can afford."
The white man smiled, "I can give it to you, and also provide maintenance and testing services."
"There's only one condition."
"Help us kill Homelander."
Butcher laughed, "If you have weapons like this, why don't you do it yourselves?"
The white man smiled, "We have our own reasons. You don't need to know that much. What do you think?"
The bearded man nodded slightly, "Fair enough."
"But," Butcher shook his head, "I don't like being used."
He turned and walked toward the entrance of the cargo hold.
The white man didn't chase him, only saying from behind, "Do you still want to wait a few more years, Mr. Butcher? Another eight years?"
"Without our help, you can't kill Homelander."
"Or are you willing to accept his terms? Take ten million and reconcile with your wife?"
Butcher stopped, malice surging in his eyes.
———
[Seven Tower]
In the command hall, Alex looked at the newly updated item in the shop.
[Overlord No. 3. Night Assault]
[Description: An upgraded version of the Overlord armor. The reduced size better fits ergonomics, adds an intelligent AI assistance system, and emphasizes night combat capability.]
[Armor Parameters: Height 2.05 m, weight 4.6 tons, Arc Reactor Gen 2, night vision mode, sniper mode, stealth mode, tungsten-steel tactical long blade, modular sniper equipment, small thrusters, laser cutting gun.]
[Price: Dim Proficiency Essence x40]
Alex closed the shop.
Although this new item was more reliable than the previous suit of armor, his evaluation was still the same: useless.
He currently had 45 proficiency essence. With five more, he could purchase the [NK Gene Modification Serum], a targeted "Compound V."
At that point, giving Angelina a shot would give Alex one more superhuman enforcer.
However, he didn't plan to bring Angelina into the Seven.
Instead, he intended to train that woman into one of his underground forces.
Just then, the door to the command hall opened.
Alex saw Vought's CEO, Edgar, walk in.
Behind him were The Deep, and a blond girl.
'"Starlight" Annie?'
Alex narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze settling on Edgar.
Edgar smiled, "The Deep told me you have some plans."
The Deep's expression changed. He looked uneasily at Alex, then shrank back behind Edgar.
Edgar smiled, "Don't blame The Deep. I asked about you, and that's when he told me."
Alex looked at The Deep with a smile, "Is that so?"
The Deep hurriedly said, "Yes, boss."
The corner of Alex's mouth lifted. He didn't pursue the matter further and instead looked at "Starlight," "And this is?"
"This is Miss Annie. She has a lovely nickname, Starlight."
Edgar walked over to Alex and sat on the table, "I think Miss Annie's abilities and image are both quite good. She would help raise the Seven's approval rating."
Alex raised his head and looked at Edgar, "If I remember correctly, I said that from now on, the Seven is under my control."
"I know," Edgar spread his hands, "So I set up a 'Seven' reserve squad. They can support your Seven at any time. Miss Annie is the first member, and also the captain."
"She won't interfere with any of your decisions. I just ask that you give her the right to sit in."
He lowered his voice, "Give me some face. If I don't do this, it'll be hard to explain to the others on the board."
"You also want the Seven to continue receiving company funding, right?"
Alex laughed softly and lowered his voice as well, "I have a condition."
"I have a friend. I want her to stay by your side and learn how to run a company, a group."
"What do you think?"
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