Morning, Godolkin University, Classroom on the second floor of Teaching Building B.
On the podium, the teacher was passionately elaborating on the classic proposition of "Power and Responsibility" in the course Hero Ethics.
Wade sat in the back row, seemingly listening, but his fingers were rapidly scrolling on a backup phone hidden under the desk.
"Hughie's girlfriend, Robin, was hit and killed near his workplace, so Hughie's workplace is..."
On-site photos of the A-Train collision, news reports, city maps... streams of information interwove in his mind.
He quickly filtered the clues: accident location, time, and surrounding businesses.
Soon, a shop displaying various electronic products entered his view.
"Found you, Brauman's Stereo Shop," Wade murmured inwardly.
He cross-referenced public business registration information with employee directories, and a name and address were confirmed: Hughie Campbell, 1770 Apartment, Second Floor, Upper West Side, Manhattan.
Just then, a slightly cool, spider-silk-like sensation attempted to probe Wade's mind, a slick touch quietly brushing against his surface thoughts.
The [Mental Barrier] automatically stirred up an invisible ripple, stubbornly blocking the probing force.
Wade turned his head, precisely locking onto the blonde figure in the back row pretending to read. A hint of coldness flashed in his eyes: "This is endless..."
A few minutes later, the class dismissal bell rang.
Ding-a-ling—
Wade got up, walked over, and sat beside Cate, tapping the desk: "Senior Sister, are sophomore courses no longer enough for your thirst for knowledge? Or did the school administration send you to be the 'Classroom Discipline Inspector'?"
Cate slowly raised her head, a sweet and innocent smile on her face: "What a coincidence, Wade. I was just passing by and remembered that I needed to review some basic theories. What, you don't welcome me auditing the class?"
"Welcome, of course, welcome!" Wade propped himself up with one hand on the desk and tapped her red glove twice. "It's just that your method of review is quite unique—you like to directly flip through other people's minds. If you want to communicate next time, you can just speak up."
Cate smoothed her hair, her sweet smile unchanged: "Oh? I'm not the only one in this classroom who can read minds. Perhaps you're just too sensitive?"
Seeing that she was still arguing, Wade leaned in and said, "Tell me, if Luke realized that those beautiful moments in his memory were actually secretly edited by you... what would he think?"
Cate's smile froze, and her pupils constricted slightly.
This was because the way Wade revealed the secret didn't sound like speculation—it sounded like he was stating a fact he had witnessed firsthand.
"How... how could you possibly know?" she blurted out, eyes wide, her voice slightly strained. "I wasn't even thinking about those things... Can you read my memories remotely?"
At this moment, she even suspected that Wade's superpower wasn't just simple gas manipulation, but some stranger, higher-level ability, such as... Consciousness Replication.
This was the effect Wade wanted. He neither admitted nor denied it, giving an enigmatic smile that was neither affirmative nor negative, and then turned to leave.
Cate didn't call out to him, nor did she attempt to probe again.
She watched Wade's retreating back. Her previous playful, cat-and-mouse attitude had vanished, replaced by a solemnity reserved for facing an equal or even more dangerous entity.
During the second class, Wade focused all his attention on his phone screen.
His fingertip tapped lightly on the screen. Using unconventional means to bypass network barriers, he began searching for another target.
Billy Butcher, the agent who was forced to leave the FBI due to his relentless pursuit of Vought Corporation scandals.
Scattered old case reports, snippets from anonymous forums... the image of a paranoid, dangerous man filled with deep-seated hatred for Supes gradually became clear.
"This person is impulsive, easily swayed by emotion, and uncontrollable," Wade thought, turning off his phone. "Should I choose someone else?"
...Afternoon, Upper West Side, Manhattan.
On the street, Hughie, dressed in a pure black suit, was walking home after attending a funeral.
He walked with his head down, staggering. The world in his eyes was a blurry gray-white, save for the vivid, dazzling blood color of the explosion in his memory.
His girlfriend, Robin, had exploded into a mist of blood right before him, and the killer—the so-called "Super Hero" A-Train—only paused a few steps away, regretlessly mumbling something about not being able to stop, before leaving the crime scene.
At a secluded alley entrance, the distraught Hughie solidly bumped into someone's shoulder.
"S-Sorry!" he mumbled instinctively, trying to bypass the person without even looking clearly.
But the person took a step sideways, blocking him again.
Only then did Hughie look up, seeing an Asian girl in a plain hoodie, with a smile in her eyes.
"Do you need help?" Wade's voice was very calm, stating a fact. "You look... quite unwell. Did a family member pass away?"
Hughie raised his head, his eyes bloodshot, and said angrily, "I'm fine, mind your own business!" He just wanted to quickly escape this person's scrutinizing gaze.
"The person you loved died tragically right in front of you, yet the killer walks free and is adored by millions... That feels suffocating, doesn't it?" Wade walked alongside him.
The speaker had intent, and the listener was receptive; every word pierced Hughie's chest like a sharp sword.
He stopped walking, staring intently at the person before him: "W-Who exactly are you? What do you want?"
"Someone who offers a choice." Wade took out the inconspicuous small metal box from his pocket.
Snap—
The lid sprang open, revealing three small, solid-colored vials inside: white, blue, and red.
"Want to know why A-Train couldn't stop that day?" Wade showed a full set of white teeth and raised an eyebrow. "What he relies on comes from the same source as this stuff. Do you want... to gain the power to confront him face-to-face? Even if only for a few short hours."
Hughie's heart pounded wildly. His dormant desire for revenge flared up, but rationality prevailed: "Is this... is this drugs? Get lost, I'm not buying!"
"No, it's a spark." Wade shook the box and closed the lid again. "It can give you temporary superpowers, so you can personally go and get answers from A-Train."
"Why me?" Hughie's eyeballs trembled violently. He couldn't believe such luck would fall upon him.
"Because you hate them, yet you can't do anything about it," Wade followed him, his tone indifferent. "And I can't stand Vought's sanctimonious facade. Is that reason enough?"
"I'll give you one vial. Whether you use it or when you use it is up to you... If you use it, you might feel better for having acted bravely for a moment; if you don't, just continue being a coward—either way, you're the one who suffers." She slipped the milky-white vial into Hughie's outer pocket and turned to leave.
Hughie walked past the street corner and stuffed the vial into a gap in the trash can like a hot potato: "Little liar! Selling drugs on the street... I should call the police."
He walked a few steps, gazed at Vought Tower in the distance, then, driven by a strange impulse, looked back at the trash can before forcing himself to walk away quickly.
In the distance, Wade stood in the shadow of the street corner. [Mental Manipulation] clearly perceived the fierce internal struggle within Hughie, and the spark in his heart named "unwillingness."
"If the thought is there, he will definitely use it."
He walked into a dark alley. His face twitched, his body grew taller, and he returned to his original appearance before soaring straight into the clouds.
"The seed has been planted. All it needs is rain, and it will break through the soil."
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