Chapter 91: A-Zu Evidence Sealing
"The next step, it's time to let this world see what A-Zureally is."
As Ray finished this sentence, no one at the table rushed to respond.
Mothers Milk muted the monitor outside the Safe House, and Frenchie connected the computer to offline power.
Hughie Campbell stood by the table holding the documents, the hot water in his hand long since gone cold.
Butcher tossed his cigarette pack to the corner of the table, glanced at Becca and Ryan, and firmly pushed the pack away.
"Speak up, no speeches. I want to kick the TV every time I hear the word hero."
Ray divided the files on the table into three stacks, pressing his fingertips on the thickest one.
"We're only doing one thing tonight: confirming whether we can smash Homelander's statue to pieces. Whoever has something, don't hold back."
Becca was sitting next to Ryan, and Robin was taking the child to the kitchen to find peanut butter.
Before the door closed, Ryan looked back at Butcher.
"Can you guys be a little quieter? Mom said it's time for me to sleep."
The ferocity on Butcher's face faltered for a second, and he pointed at the kitchen.
"Go eat your peanut butter, kid. The adults will try not to blow the roof off."
Ray nodded and added, "Don't worry, if he blows the roof off, I'll be responsible for hanging him up there as a human chandelier. It's energy-efficient and eco-friendly."
Ryan pursed his lips in amusement, and Robin quickly took him into the kitchen.
After the door closed, Becca placed the voice recorder on the table.
"This is my testimony. Time, location, who sent me to the community, who forced me to shut up—I've made it all clear."
Butcher reached for the recorder but stopped halfway.
"Becca, you don't have to submit that part. I can find another way to kill that blonde bastard."
Becca looked at him, her finger pressing down on the recorder without letting go.
"Billy, you've been looking for me for eight years. Now that I'm speaking for myself, don't you dare silence me."
Butcher pulled his hand back, cursed half a sentence under his breath, and swallowed the rest.
"Fine, it's your call. But the kid's name cannot appear in it even once."
Ray took the recorder and plugged it into the offline device.
"Ryan won't appear in any public materials. We won't even touch his timeline in the edit. Anyone who dares to push the kid in front of the camera, I'll let them experience the doorless elevator first."
Hughie asked quietly, "Does the 'doorless elevator' mean you carrying someone and jumping off the roof? I'm just confirming the risk level."
Ray glanced at him. "Congratulations, the mobile victim has finally learned to read the manual. Keep up that survival instinct."
Annie's encrypted communication popped up on the screen.
The background on her end was very dark, and her voice was very low.
"I've obtained the internal files for Flight 37, including dispatch records, Vought legal emails, and the notice requiring Homelander and Maeve to change their stories."
Mothers Milk wrote the file numbers on the whiteboard.
"The plane incident will puncture the hero narrative, Becca's testimony will puncture the family persona, and the waste line will puncture the company's legitimacy. Connect these three, and Vought will have a hard time glossing over it with PR releases."
Frenchie typed away, and a video verification record popped up on the screen.
"Ms. Maeve's video has arrived too. She filmed Homelander killing the witness with her own eyes. The original timestamp hasn't been moved, and you can still hear his voice on the audio track."
Maeve's voice came through another line, much lower than usual.
"I can stand up, but Elena needs to leave New York first. If Vought finds out I tampered with the video, they'll go after her first."
Ray pushed an evacuation route to Mothers Milk.
"Elena leaves via the underground medical vehicle at 3:00 AM tomorrow. Donna is on a different route. Annie, don't let Vought's people touch your mom."
Annie was silent for two seconds before replying.
"I've already had her stay at a church friend's house for two days. She thinks I'm just having some work conflicts with Vought."
Butcher sneered. "Work conflicts? Little girl, if your 'work conflicts' get any bigger, Vought will be arranging your funeral."
Annie didn't shy away from this.
"I know, that's why we must get the files all at once this time. I don't want to wait for others to decide whether I should live or not anymore."
Ray looked up at the screen.
"Good. That drive is enough. But don't get reckless. Getting the files is the priority; coming back alive is the higher priority. Vought Tower isn't short on servers, but it is short on people who dare to bring out the truth."
Hughie leaned closer to the computer and pointed at the schedule.
"We use Noah's account as the release source, push it to mainstream media simultaneously, and the Congressional Special Investigation Committee gets a copy too, right?"
Ray pushed the schedule to the center of the table.
"Right. The first wave uses Noah's live stream account to detonate it, the second wave makes it impossible for the media to play dead, and the third wave sends the evidence into the Congressional public archives. If Vought wants to delete it, they'll have to offend half the country."
Mothers Milk frowned at the time.
"Why 48 hours later? If we send it out now, Homelanderhasn't recovered yet, and Vought's Public Relations Department is in chaos."
Ray pointed at the military movements on the table.
"Send it too early, and Washington can claim the evidence source is unknown. Send it too late, and Edgar will have V24 soldiers lining the streets. 48 hours later is the golden time for national broadcast. Homelander was supposed to be a savior in front of the cameras."
Frenchie laughed and continued typing.
"Let him stand on the highest platform, then tear the platform down. Friend, this arrangement is very impolite, but I like it."
Butcher looked at Ray.
"Are you sure he'll go? That bastard was just beaten back by you in front of the kid. He's more likely to be hiding and going crazy right now."
Ray pulled up Homelander's public itinerary, which already had the Washington Hero Safety Summit written on it.
"He will definitely go, because he's most afraid of others thinking he doesn't dare to go. A-Zu can be brainless, but he can't be without applause."
Becca heard this and her fingers paused on the edge of the table.
"If he finds out Ryan is missing before the broadcast, will he rush over directly?"
Ray pushed another safety arrangement to Butcher.
"That's why you're responsible for Becca and Ryan, Mothers Milk is responsible for the outer perimeter evacuation, Frenchie is responsible for anti-tracking, and Hughie is responsible for the release source liaison. Whoever drops the ball writes the apology card to A-Zu."
Just as Hughie was about to speak, Robin poked her head out from the kitchen door with a plate.
"Ryan wants to ask, can a peanut butter sandwich have two layers? He said Vought Instructor didn't allow it before."
Butcher looked over with a dark face, his mouth faster than his brain.
"Make it three layers. I'll curse anyone who stops him."
Becca looked at him, and Butcher immediately corrected himself.
"I mean, whoever stops him, I, this uncle, will curse them."
Ray rubbed his forehead.
"Old Butcher, if you have any more slips of the tongue like that, this family drama will escalate into a British disaster movie."
After the kitchen door closed, the tense atmosphere at the table was suppressed a little.
However, a keyboard notification suddenly came from Annie's side. She looked down, and her expression was not as steady as before.
"Wait, there's another file in Vought's internal index that has been re-encrypted. The title is 'compound v Human Experiment Recovery Report'."
Mothers Milk stopped his pen.
"Can't the waste line and factory records we have replace it?"
Annie shook her head, speaking faster.
"No. This file is directly connected to the list of test subjects, death records, and child experiment batches. The permissions are in the 79th Floor server room. It's not in the regular backups."
Butcher slapped the table.
"Edgar's safe. He knew we'd bite on V24, so he locked the dirtiest stuff back in the lair."
Maeve said over the line, "The 79th Floor is changing shifts tonight. Homelander might not be in the building, but the security supervisor will personally patrol the server level. That person is not a regular guard."
Ray looked at Annie.
"Is your current location safe? Don't tell me you're already in the elevator."
Annie was quiet for a moment, then the sound of her stuffing her ID into her jacket came through.
"Not in the elevator yet, but I'm already in the Vought Tower parking level. The permission window is only for tonight. After midnight, the files will be moved to cold storage isolation."
Hughie stood up immediately.
"Annie, don't go alone. I'm coming to get you, or we'll think of another way."
Annie looked at the camera, her tone steadier than before.
"Hughie, Vought never gives us time to think of another way. I'm scared, but I can't wait for Ray to smash down from the sky to save the day every time."
Ray was silent for half a second and sent the old floor plan of the 79th Floor.
"Listen to me. Don't get into a fight once you're in. Retreat as soon as you get the download. Don't explain to anyone you run into. You are Starlight, not Vought's intern customer service."
Annie looked down at the route on her phone and suddenly smiled.
"Your way of comforting people really sucks, but it's more useful than Vought training courses."
Butcher pushed the gun to the edge of the table, but was looked at by Becca, and could only take the gun back.
"Little girl, if you get cornered, don't play the hero. Just curse 'Ray', he usually comes very quickly."
Ray looked at Annie on the screen and pressed the communication key.
"Whether the broadcast 48 hours later can nail A-Zudepends on the file in your hand. Don't die, don't get caught, don't let Vought teach you how to write a confession statement."
Annie looked up at the parking level exit, and the indicator light for the elevator in the distance lit up.
"Received. I'm going to go dismantle the last coffin board."
The communication screen flickered. Annie hid the earpiece in her hair and swiped to open the employee elevator to the 79th Floor.
Her lowered voice came from the end of the screen.
"If I haven't replied in ten minutes, let Ray come to Vought Tower to pick someone up."
Chapter 92: Starlight Steals the Coffin Lid
After the elevator door closed, Annie pressed her earpiece deeper into her hair.
The floor numbers on the screen ticked upward one by one.
Hughie's voice drilled out of the earpiece.
"Annie, you can still turn back now. I'm not trying to tell you to chicken out, I just really hate Vought elevators."
Annie looked at her reflection and replied in a low voice.
"If you keep talking, I'm going to start hating you even more. Don't make me swear on the 79th Floor."
It was very quiet on Ryan's end, with only the sound of him tapping the desk coming through.
"Don't argue with the elevator. When you get out, go left. Behind the third cleaning closet, there's a maintenance passage. Vought security likes to hide the dirtiest doors behind the cleanest signs."
Annie couldn't help but retort.
"Did you work as a Janitor at Vought, or did you draw a treasure map for Vought Tower?"
Ryan's tone was very flat.
"Janitors know more secrets than the board of directors, especially big cases like who spilled coffee into the server racks."
Hughie lowered his voice.
"That's a terrible joke, but I'm actually feeling a bit relieved now. Annie, just listen to him."
A second before the elevator stopped at the 79th Floor, Annie turned the communication volume down to the lowest setting.
The employee ID on her chest pressed against her palm, warming up from her touch.
After the doors opened, only half the lights in the corridor were on.
The sound of patrolling boots passed by around the corner.
Annie didn't rush to step out. She waited until the last set of footsteps had completely disappeared before sticking to the wall and walking toward the cleaning closet.
She swiped open the closet door and saw, as expected, a narrow door inside.
A Vought logistics seal was stuck on the lock, with a line of small text on the edge reading "Unauthorized Personnel Prohibited."
Annie said in a low voice.
"Your Cleaning Department really treats the whole building like its own home."
Ryan replied quickly.
"Wrong. It's Vought that treats all employees like expendables. We're just better at finding the back door."
Annie didn't say anything else.
She swiped the temporary card Maeve had given her to open the maintenance door and squeezed inside sideways.
In the narrow passage, there was only the low hum of server fans.
Seven minutes and forty seconds remained on the countdown.
She stopped in front of the server room back door, pushing the name 'Annie' to the back of her mind.
Leaving only Starlight's ID, smile, and the composure taught in Vought training courses.
The access control screen lit up, prompting for secondary authorization.
Annie pressed her finger against it.
The screen spun twice before popping up with green confirmation text.
Hughie gasped quietly in the earpiece.
"It worked? It actually worked? I almost crushed my cup just now."
Annie pushed the door open and whispered.
"Don't celebrate too early; I haven't gotten the item yet."
In the server room, rows of racks glowed with blue light, and cold air seeped up from under the floor.
Annie followed the route to find the 79th Floorindependent backup cabinet and inserted the USB drive into the offline port.
After the file index opened, the target title popped up.
"compound v Human Experimentation Recovery Report"
Annie saw the child batch numbers below, her fingers pausing for a beat before she clicked copy.
The progress bar crept up from one percent, and the countdown next to the screen had only six minutes and twenty seconds left.
Hughie asked.
"Did you see the files? If it's too disgusting, don't look at the content. Copy it first and throw up when you get back."
Annie stared at the progress bar.
"I saw the names. Vought even assigns numbers to children; they can't even be bothered to keep their names."
Ryan's voice pressed into the communication.
"Take it first, then make them read it to the whole country themselves. Don't waste time in the server room with a list of dead people."
Annie pulled her gaze back.
"Copy that, Cleaning Supervisor."
The progress bar jumped to thirty-one percent.
Suddenly, the sound of two people talking came from outside the door.
"Why is there an impromptu patrol tonight? Even rats don't want to come to the 79th Floor."
"The higher-ups said someone messed with the historical index. Don't ask, you'll just get your pay docked if you do."
Annie pressed her body behind the server rack, keeping her breathing extremely shallow.
Her fingers hovered next to the USB drive, not moving at all.
The doorknob was twisted, but the back door permission wasn't enabled.
The person outside cursed in a low voice.
"This broken door again. The logistics people should be thrown into the underground parking lot to feed the surveillance cameras sooner or later."
The other person laughed.
"You dare curse at the Janitors? That guy Ryan last time was also a Janitor, and now three members of The Sevenare down."
Annie heard Ryan click his tongue in the earpiece.
"Spreading rumors. I only participated in technical maintenance."
Hughie almost laughed out loud but quickly covered his microphone.
"Sorry, I shouldn't be laughing right now."
The footsteps finally faded away.
Annie looked at the screen; the progress had reached fifty-eight percent.
Just as she reached out to confirm the backup path, the server screen suddenly flashed red.
A line of internal warnings popped up on the screen.
"Abnormal copy behavior. 79th Floor independent backup cabinet entering lockdown verification."
Annie's hand stopped in mid-air.
"Ryan, the screen turned red. That usually doesn't mean they're welcoming me, right?"
It was quiet on Ryan's end for half a second.
"Don't wait for one hundred percent. Take what you can; Vought is revoking access."
The progress bar jumped to seventy percent.
The next second, a piercing alarm sounded from the top of the server room.
Red lights swept across the racks, and the access control automatically locked down.
Dense footsteps could be heard in the corridor outside.
Hughie's voice changed completely.
"Annie, pull it out! Pull it out, quick! Forget about whether it's complete or not!"
Annie yanked out the USB drive, shoved it into her pocket, and turned to rush toward the back door.
But the access control screen displayed "Lockdown in progress, offline mode disabled."
She took a glance at the front door.
The footsteps were approaching, and the security guards' shouts came through the door panel.
"Anomaly in the 79th Floor server room. All exits sealed. Intruder detected; authorized to subdue."
Annie raised her hand and pressed it against the back door's electronic lock.
Electricity from her palm pressed into the circuitry, sparks burst from the lock, and then it popped open half an inch.
Ryan spoke up in the communication.
"Turn left and take the maintenance passage. Don't take the elevator. The elevator will send you to the Security Supervisor's office. The coffee there tastes terrible, and the people are even harder to talk to."
Annie rushed into the maintenance passage, not stopping even when her shoulder slammed into the wall.
"Can you not critique the coffee while I'm running for my life?"
Ryan replied.
"Fine. Then I'll critique your running posture. Ms. Starlight, you're running with a lot of survival instinct right now."
Hughie interjected anxiously.
"Ryan, stop teasing her! Annie, the stairwell is right in front, thirty meters away."
Annie turned out of the passage.
The red light in the corridor made every glass door look incredibly eerie.
Security guards chased from the other end, the sound of their stun guns being disengaged blending together.
She raised her hand and released a blinding flash of light.
The two pursuing security guards covered their eyes and slammed hard into the wall.
Taking advantage of them being down, she snatched an access card and swiped open the fire door, rushing into the stairwell.
The countdown hit zero.
Frenchie's voice came through the communication.
"All external network ports on the 79th Floor have been cut. They're tracking the USB drive's signal. Little Star, put it in a shielding bag."
Annie shoved the USB drive into the shielding pouch in her inner pocket and sprinted down the stairwell corner.
"It's already shielded, but do they know who I am?"
Mothers Milk's voice dropped.
"They don't necessarily need to know. A member of The Seven running away with files in the middle of the night at Vought Tower—it's not a hard multiple-choice question to answer."
Annie had just run to the 77th Floor when another set of rapid footsteps came from above the stairwell.
At the same time, someone pushed the door open from below.
Hughie shouted.
"They're on both sides! Get out on the 78th Floor; there's a security door in the corridor to the right."
Annie gritted her teeth and pushed open the fire door on the 78th Floor.
As soon as she rushed into the corridor, the metal door behind her was firmly sucked shut by the electromagnetic lock again.
She subconsciously looked back.
Ryan's voice came through the earpiece at the same time.
"Don't look back, keep running. There's a maintenance elevator shaft behind the corner ahead."
Annie laughed with a gasp.
"You better not be lying to me. I don't have the energy to file a complaint about the Cleaning Department's navigation right now."
Ryan replied.
"Complaints are invalid. This department only accepts bribes in the form of potato chips."
The green exit light at the end of the corridor was on.
When Annie saw that door, her pace finally quickened a bit.
She reached for the door handle.
But a cold electronic prompt suddenly sounded from the door gap.
"System access revoked."
The red alarm lights in the entire corridor turned ghastly white at the same time.
The footsteps of the pursuers didn't get any closer; instead, they stopped eerily in the distance.
Annie stopped abruptly.
The USB drive in her pocket pressed against her ribs, cold and heavy.
Hughie lowered his voice in the communication, with a trace of trembling.
"Why did they stop chasing? Annie, what's in front of you?"
It was silent on Ryan's end for half a second, then his tone dropped completely.
"Annie, don't walk forward."
But at the corner, heavy footsteps had already sounded.
A tall Black man walked slowly out from under the lights.
His black suit was stretched tight by his bulging muscles, and a silver tag for the Vought Security Supervisor hung around his neck.
He wore a pair of heavy metal knuckle dusters on his right hand.
He looked at Annie, his voice so steady it was hair-raising.
"Ms. Starlight, the 79th Floor is not open to tourists."
Annie took a cautious half-step back, moving her hand away from the edge of her pocket.
"Who are you?"
The man raised his hand and expressionlessly disabled the access control at the end of the corridor.
The green exit indicator light subsequently went out.
"Vought Internal Superhuman Security Supervisor, Roger."
He took a step forward, the metal knuckle dusters making a faint friction sound under the ghastly white light.
"However, they prefer to call me—"
"Black Roger."
Chapter 93: The Janitor Drops In to Crash the Party
"Black Roger."
Annie repeated the name.
Her fingers didn't touch the USB drive in her pocket, and her tone remained steady.
"Does Vought need stage names for highway robbery now?"
Roger wasn't provoked by her.
He raised his right hand, wearing metal knuckles, and the access lights on both sides of the corridor went out one by one.
"Ms. Starlight, you've taken something that doesn't belong to you. Hand it over, and I can let you leave with some dignity."
Hughie couldn't keep his voice down in the earpiece, sounding anxious.
"Annie, don't listen to him. The dignity he's talking about is probably the kind found in a Vought PR release!"
Ryan's voice also came through, speaking more slowly than before.
"Don't fight him head-on. Step back three paces and don't let him touch you."
Annie complied.
As soon as her heels stepped back beyond the safety line, Roger raised his hand against the wall, and a whole section of metal fire shutters from the corridor ceiling dropped down.
She stopped in her tracks and couldn't help but curse.
"Ryan, did your navigation system forget to tell me that Vought corridors can turn into tin cans?"
Ryan replied quickly.
"You can leave a bad review later, but don't die first. Only living customers have the right to file a complaint."
Hearing the static from the earpiece, Roger finally fixed his gaze on Annie's ear.
"You have someone directing you from behind. That person must be the troublemaker who's become quite famous in the Cleaning Department recently."
Annie raised her hand, and white light flared in her palm.
"If you want to hear a name from me, you'll have to learn to wait in line first."
Roger took a step forward.
He cut off most of the emergency power in the walls, and the light in Annie's palm dimmed significantly.
The sound of a chair overturning came from Hughie's side.
"He's cutting the power. Annie's abilities will be suppressed. Ryan, where are you?"
Ryan didn't answer; only the sound of wind and some high-speed friction screeching remained on the comms.
Roger raised his metal knuckles, his voice remaining flat.
"Ms. Starlight, Vought has studied you. After a power outage, all you have left is a pretty uniform and a useless, stubborn temper."
Annie watched him approach and suddenly smiled.
"You guys studied pretty thoroughly, but it's a pity the researchers didn't tell you that I'm wearing a jacket today."
Roger's footsteps faltered for a beat.
Annie raised her hand and drew all the residual current from the corridor ceiling lights. The white light exploded along the floor, forcing Roger to turn his head to avoid it.
She turned and rushed toward the side door. Just as she reached out to touch the access panel, red text flashed on the lock screen.
Permission revoked.
Roger's voice came from behind the white light.
"That little bit of cleverness won't save you. The passages below the 79th Floor have all been locked."
Hughie shouted in the earpiece.
"Annie, don't go left, that side is sealed too. There's a fire cabinet on the right—can you rip open the pipes?"
Annie kicked open the fire cabinet; inside were only empty hose reels and a Vought safety drill sticker.
She looked at the sticker and was so angry she almost laughed.
"Vought even steals fire hoses? How has this company not been returned to hell yet?"
Ryan finally spoke.
"Because even hell thinks the after-sales service is a hassle."
Roger walked through the dissipating white light.
His metal knuckles smashed into the wall, leaving a dent in the surface.
"Call ended. Hand it over."
Annie raised her hand to block him, but the impact sent her crashing into the fire cabinet, and a harsh static sound came through the earpiece.
Hughie's voice trembled.
"Annie, answer me! Annie, can you hear me?"
Annie stood up, bracing herself against the cabinet door, and pressed the USB drive deeper into her inner clothing.
"I can hear you, it's just that Vought's service attitude is so poor, I want to give them one star."
Roger didn't waste any more words this time.
He charged directly at her, moving much faster than ordinary security, his metal knuckles aiming straight for Annie's shoulder.
Annie only had time to light up half a glow in her palm when a dull thud suddenly came from above.
The next moment, the ceiling was smashed through by a single punch, and chunks of concrete and rebar fell from above.
A figure slammed down through the breach, landing steadily between Annie and Roger.
Annie's white light shone on his back, and she froze for half a second.
"Can't you use a door for once?"
Ryan brushed the dust off his shoulders without even turning to look at her.
"The doors are locked. As a Janitor, I respect the access control system, so I use the ceiling."
Hughie almost cracked his voice over the comms.
"You're here? You're really here? Where did you fly in from?"
Frenchie added.
"He came in from the building's exterior wall, mate. He just punched a human-shaped hole through the billboard on the 73rd floor."
Ryan looked down at the soles of his shoes.
"That screen was already playing Homelander's face; breaking it counts as a public health service."
Watching the ceiling smashed through, the composure on Roger's face finally cracked.
"Ryan, you've broken into the 78th Floor of Vought Tower. This is an armed intrusion."
Ryan finally looked up at him.
"You cornering my friend while wearing brass knuckles—is that what you call security patrol?"
Roger raised his hand, and the metal knuckles emitted a low-frequency vibration.
"The company has authorized me to subdue all intruders, including you."
Ryan nodded and turned to tell Annie.
"Do you still have the files?"
Annie pressed her hand against the inside of her clothes.
"Still here, but I only managed to copy seventy percent. I don't know if it's enough to nail them."
Ryan looked at the dust and bruises on her, his voice softening slightly.
"Whether it's enough or not, we'll talk about it later. For now, let's let this Black Roger experience the white wall plaster."
Roger had already charged in front of him, his vibrating metal knuckles smashing toward Ryan's chest.
Ryan didn't dodge; he just raised his right hand and flicked Roger's knuckles.
A crisp sound rang out, and the metal knuckles cracked first.
Roger's entire arm was jarred aside, and his body flew backward uncontrollably, smashing through three glass partitions before sliding along the floor for the entire length of the corridor.
Annie looked at Roger, who had smashed into the reception desk in the distance, and couldn't help but blink.
"You just flicked him?"
Ryan flexed his fingers.
"Yeah, his gear is pretty hard; it almost made my fingernail hurt."
Hughie was silent for two seconds on the earpiece.
"I finally know why Vought doesn't give the Cleaning Department a raise; they're afraid you'll all revolt."
Mothers Milk's voice cut into the comms.
"Stop chatting. The 78th Floor alarm has already connected to the top floor. More people will be coming down within five minutes."
Ryan turned, grabbed Annie's wrist, and led her toward the maintenance door on the other side.
"Let's go, don't wait for Vought to send you an exit survey."
Annie ran two steps with him, then looked back.
"Roger isn't dead, right?"
Ryan didn't even turn his head.
"He's not dead. I have professional ethics when I strike; at most, I just made him re-evaluate the length of the corridor."
The two of them rushed into the maintenance passage.
Annie heard the alarms chasing them from behind and couldn't help but ask.
"How did you get up here? Didn't they lock all the elevators?"
Ryan pushed open a ventilation maintenance door.
"Elevators are for employees; the Janitor has his own way."
Annie looked at the narrow passage, her expression unable to hold up.
"You aren't expecting me to crawl through this, are you?"
Ryan stopped and looked at her seriously.
"You can take the front door if you want, but there are probably twenty security guards waiting to applaud you right now."
Annie lowered her head and crawled in, gritting her teeth as she replied.
"When this is over, I'm definitely writing all of Vought Tower's ventilation ducts into my complaint letter."
Ryan followed behind.
"Remember to praise the Cleaning Department for clear routes and attentive service."
Hughie chimed in on the comms.
"You guys can still joke, which means the situation isn't as bad as I thought."
Annie was just about to reply when the sound of mechanical locking suddenly came from the passage opening ahead.
Frenchie quickly reported the situation.
"They're sealing the vent shaft in front of you. They'll pump in tear gas in three seconds."
Ryan raised his hand to press against the metal plate, pushed with his palm, and the entire vent cover flew out along with the exterior wall, the night wind blowing directly into the passage.
Annie looked at the night view dozens of stories high outside, and the words stuck in her throat.
"I retract that last sentence; the situation is worse than Hughie thought."
Ryan turned his head to look at her.
"Afraid of heights?"
Annie gripped the USB drive tightly and bit the bullet.
"Afraid of dropping the evidence."
Ryan reached out to wrap his arm around her shoulder, his tone still annoying.
"Don't worry, you won't drop it; I can't afford to pay for that."
Before Annie could curse him, Ryan had already taken her out of the vent shaft, rushing out of the building and swooping down along the exterior wall of Vought.
The glass on several floors behind them lit up simultaneously, the shouts of security guards torn apart by the night wind, and searchlights swept across the billboard, chasing their shadows.
Homelander on the billboard was smiling at the camera.
As Ryan swooped past, he slapped the side of the screen, and half of the entire screen went black.
Annie shouted, clinging to his shoulder.
"You're breaking Vought's stuff again!"
Ryan replied righteously.
"This is called shutting down a source of mental pollution; the city's residents will thank me."
...
When the two landed in an abandoned parking lot three streets away, Mothers Milk's car was already parked in the shadows.
Robin poked her head out from the back seat and handed a spare jacket to Annie.
Hughie was the first to rush out of the car, almost tripping over himself.
"Annie! Are you okay? Where does it hurt? Did that Rogerhit you?"
Annie slapped the USB drive into his hand, panting for a long while before saying.
"The files are here. Look at them first, then look at me, otherwise my run just now was for nothing."
Hughie held the USB drive, not daring to touch her injured shoulder.
"Can I look at both? My brain isn't really listening to me right now."
Ryan leaned against the car door, watching Frenchie open the shielding box.
"Back up the seventy percent of the files into three copies: one for Noah, one for the congressional contact, and one for Maeve to confirm."
Frenchie took the USB drive, his fingers moving quickly.
"No problem, but the Vought top-floor channel just went completely silent. That's not a normal reaction."
Mothers Milk looked toward the distant Vought Tower.
"They know the stuff has been taken out?"
Ryan looked up at the building, his tone tightening slightly.
"They know someone snatched meat from their mouths, but they haven't seen where the knife is yet."
Annie finally caught her breath and looked up at Ryan.
"How did you know I was actually in trouble just now? The comms were cut, and my location was blocked by them."
Ryan pointed to his own ear and answered very seriously.
"Super Hearing."
Annie looked at him, waiting for him to continue.
Ryan added the second half of the sentence.
"An essential skill for a Janitor."
Chapter 94: A-Zu Hears the Bell Toll
"A Janitor's essential skill."
Starlight Annie sat in the car, catching her breath, and raised her hand to brush the messy hair from her forehead.
"In your Janitor training course, have you ever considered adding a class on how to use a door properly?"
Ryan handed the shielding box to Frenchie and looked back at her.
"Using a door normally requires a keycard; smashing through a wall only requires arms. The cost-benefit analysis is quite clear."
Hughie held Starlight Annie's jacket, wanting to get closer but afraid of touching the injury on her shoulder.
"Can you two stop discussing vocational training for a second? She just flew down from the 78th Floor."
Starlight Annie glanced at Hughie.
"I'm not shattered, so don't look at me like you're saying goodbye to a corpse."
Robin handed her a water bottle from the backseat.
"Drink some water first. You can queue up for your arguments; everyone has a number tonight."
Ryan watched Frenchie copy the files onto three offline drives, his tone softening slightly.
"Seventy percent of the files are enough. Vought will panic now, and Homelander will panic even more."
Butcher spoke up coldly over the comms.
"Then let him panic. It would be best if he panicked so hard he stuffed his own cape into his mouth."
Becca's voice came through quickly.
"Billy, Ryan just fell asleep. If you use that kind of language again, I'm cutting the comms."
Butcher held his tongue for two seconds.
"Fine, I'll rephrase: let that blond bastard quietly reflect on himself."
Ryan's groggy voice drifted in from the distance.
"Mom, is Uncle Billy cursing again?"
Ryan laughed.
"No, he's learning to use polite language. The progress is quite touching."
...
At the same time, the lights on the top floor of Vought Tower were still on.
Homelander stood in the center of the conference room, clutching a broken earpiece in his hand.
Madelyn walked in holding a tablet, her tone steady and controlled.
"You can't keep pulling all employee communications. The Legal Department has already asked for the source of authorization three times."
Homelander turned to look at her, his eyes bloodshot.
"The Legal Department is asking me for authorization? Have they forgotten who they work for?"
Madelyn stopped three steps away from him.
"The incident on the 79th Floor has been hushed up. The security supervisor is still alive, and the Public Relations Department can say it was just a circuit malfunction."
Homelander threw the broken earpiece onto the table, causing the glass surface to crack with several fine lines.
"Does a circuit malfunction fly away from the exterior wall? Does a circuit malfunction black out my advertising screens?"
Outside the door, the secretary's hand shook as she held the coffee, and the lid fell onto the carpet.
She bent down to pick it up, but heard Homelander speak through the door.
"Stop picking it up. Get out."
The secretary stood still, not daring to move.
Madelyn tilted her head, signaling her to leave. After the door closed, no one in the hallway dared to approach again.
Homelander lifted his head, his ears twitching slightly as he peeled back the sounds of the entire building layer by layer.
Someone in the restroom was cursing the Public Relations Department for the overtime, someone on the phone was talking about the incident on the 79th Floor, and someone in the elevator was praying not to run into him.
He heard Ashley, suppressing a sob, giving orders to her team.
"No one mention Starlight Annie tonight, don't mention Maeve, don't mention the 79th Floor. Whoever speaks out of turn doesn't need to come in tomorrow."
Homelander chuckled, a sound that made the people in the conference room even more afraid to breathe.
Madelyn placed the tablet on the table.
"You need to rest. Tomorrow night is the National Hero Safety Summit, and the prime-time broadcast cannot go wrong."
Homelander looked at the schedule on the screen, his fingertip pausing on the "Live Interview" section.
"Why is everyone talking about the live broadcast?"
Madelyn frowned.
"Because that's the schedule Vought arranged, and you've already confirmed it three times."
Homelander suddenly reached out, grabbed her wrist, and dragged her in front of him.
"Shut up! Someone is trying to sabotage me! I can feel it!"
Madelyn's face turned pale from the pain, but she didn't cry out.
"John, let go. Acting like this will only make them fear you more."
Homelander leaned in close to her, his voice squeezed through his teeth.
"What's wrong with them being afraid of me? They're supposed to be afraid of me."
Outside the conference room, Ashley had just arrived at the door. Hearing this, she stopped in her tracks, and the folder in her hand nearly slipped.
The Public Relations manager behind her asked in a low voice.
"Should we still go in?"
Ashley pressed the folder back against her chest.
"If you want to die, you can knock on the door yourself. I haven't written my will yet."
Homelander turned his head toward the door.
"Ashley, come in."
Ashley's face fell for a moment, then she forced her expression back together and squeezed out a smile as she pushed the door open.
"Hi, Homelander. I was just about to show you the interview questions for tomorrow night; they're all very safe topics."
Homelander released Madelyn and walked over to Ashley.
"Safe? Whenever you people have that word on your lips, things are usually already rotten to the core."
Ashley hurriedly shook her head.
"No, absolutely not. The questions are all about the country, heroes, and hope. The audience will love you."
Homelander stared at her.
"Will the audience love me, or do you want me to die in front of the audience?"
Ashley opened her mouth, not daring to say "impossible," and just handed over the file.
"We've checked the entire media list. There's no Noah, no kid anchor."
Homelander took the file, flipped through two pages, and then crumpled the paper into a ball.
"What about Ryan? Starlight Annie? Maeve? Why is every name so clean it makes me sick?"
Madelyn spoke up from the side.
"Maeve will be attending tomorrow, too. She won't do anything stupid on the live broadcast."
Homelander turned back to look at her.
"Are you sure? When have you ever been sure that someone wouldn't betray me?"
Ashley quickly interjected.
"Starlight Annie still has a login record in the internal system tonight. She should just be processing old files."
Homelander reached out and pressed down on Ashley's shoulder, his grip causing her to choke off mid-sentence.
"Processing old files? On the 79th Floor? In the middle of the night?"
Ashley was on the verge of tears.
"I'll check. I'll check right now. I promise to give you an answer before the broadcast."
Homelander lowered his head, a flash of red light in his eyes, and Heat Vision grazed past Ashley's ear, burning two holes into the hero poster on the wall behind her.
Ashley's legs went weak, and she only avoided collapsing to her knees because the Public Relations manager caught her.
Madelyn raised her voice.
"John, enough! If you keep this up, tomorrow's broadcast will have to be changed to an accident report."
Homelander turned and shoved her aside.
Madelyn hit the back of a chair, and the tablet fell to the floor, its cracked screen still displaying the countdown for the Washington broadcast.
Homelander looked down at the numbers, his breathing heavy.
Less than forty-eight hours.
He heard more and more people in the building talking about him, talking about the 79th Floor, talking about Starlight Annie, talking about Ryan smashing through the ceiling.
Every voice hid evasion, and every pause made him irritable.
He suddenly flew out through the floor-to-ceiling window, the sound of shattering glass echoing throughout the top floor, causing every employee in the building to stop what they were doing.
Homelander hovered over New York, his cape pulled taut by the high-altitude wind pressure.
He closed his eyes, listening to the millions of sounds in the city.
Taxi drivers were cursing the traffic, bar televisions were replaying news about him, and in the CNN control room, someone was repeatedly confirming the special broadcast list for tomorrow night.
"Queen Maeve and Starlight Annie are making a joint appearance; the host is requesting an additional ten minutes for the opening."
Homelander opened his eyes, red light pressing out from the depths of his pupils.
"A joint appearance."
He repeated it in a low voice, then turned to look at Vought Tower, his voice transmitted back to the top floor via the communication channel.
"Connect all the live broadcast feeds for tomorrow night to me—CNN, Fox, the official Vought channel—don't miss a single one."
Ashley gripped the edge of the table, her hand shaking as she pressed the call button.
"What are you trying to do?"
Homelander hovered in the night sky, listening to the city's electrical hum and human voices blending together, the smile on his face strained and stiff.
"I want to see what they are planning to say about me in front of the national audience."
Chapter 95: The Entire Nation Sees A-Zu Rot
"I want to see what they are planning to say about me in front of the national audience."
When this sentence was transmitted back to the top floor via the Vought International internal channel, Ashley's hand, holding the connection list, paused in mid-air.
Madelyn glanced at the live broadcast countdown, her tone held very steady.
"Connect the line, but don't let him touch the backend permissions."
Ashley almost dropped her tablet.
"You're asking me to stop him? Why don't you ask me to plug the hole Ryan smashed in the wall with my bare hands?"
Madelyn didn't acknowledge her complaint, simply pushing the access codes for CNN, Fox, and the official Vought International channel toward her.
...
At the same time, inside the Safe House in the suburbs, Ryan watched the countdown on the screen and pushed the last encrypted drive to Frenchie.
Hughie sat nearby, putting his headphones on backward three times in a row.
Robin couldn't help but straighten them for him.
"If you keep doing that, the broadcast source will crash before the audience does."
Hughie placed his hands back on the keyboard.
"I know, I just feel a bit like throwing up. It's not regret, of course; it's just that my stomach isn't cooperating."
Ryan patted his shoulder.
"Hold on, the 'mobile victim' is upgrading to a 'mobile publisher' tonight. History will remember this face of yours about to vomit."
Butcher scoffed from behind.
"Stop giving him trophies. Once the broadcast starts, Vought International will go crazy, Homelander will go crazy, and Edgar won't be sitting around drinking tea either."
Becca stood outside Ryan's door, hugging a blanket.
"So you promised me that the child's name wouldn't appear."
Ryan flipped the broadcast list over for her to see.
"No names, no photos, no clips that could point to him. The fact that A-Zu wants to be a father doesn't deserve a seat at the table tonight."
Ryan poked his head out from the crack in the door.
"Then will the TV say he did bad things?"
Butcher was about to start cursing, but Becca gave him a look first, and he forced himself to change it to:
"Yes, and it will be said very clearly, kid."
Ryan watched the countdown hit zero.
"Everyone, the inspection phase for the A-Zu statue has arrived. Whose statue cut corners? We'll find out tonight when it collapses."
...
Inside the CNN prime-time broadcast studio, the host looked at the temporary headline on the teleprompter, his composure nearly slipping.
He spoke to the camera.
"Tonight, Queen Maeve and Starlight Annie are attending a special interview together. They will respond to the recent controversies surrounding Vought International and The Seven."
The camera cut to the other side. Maeve sat on the left, Annie on the right, and on the table between them, there were no brochures, only a sealed evidence drive.
The host tried to follow the script for the opening.
"Ms. Maeve, Ms. Starlight, rumors suggest there are professional disagreements between you and Vought International. Does this appearance signify that the relationship has eased?"
Annie looked at the camera.
"If you call covering up deaths a 'professional disagreement,' then yes, I am here to discuss work today."
Someone in the control room cursed, and the host nearly dropped his cue cards.
Maeve took over.
"Let's not waste time. Let's start with the one thing Vought International is best at packaging—heroic rescues."
The screen cut to internal documents from Flight 37, with dispatch logs, legal emails, and revised statements being zoomed in on page by page.
The host stared at the document numbers.
"These are Vought International internal emails? It says here that members of The Seven must not admit that the situation was out of control."
Annie pushed the voice recorder to the edge of the table.
"They didn't save the people on the plane, and they even demanded that the relevant survivors stick to a unified story."
The host looked toward his earpiece; the control room gave no new instructions, only a stream of skyrocketing viewership data.
Maeve placed her hands on the table.
"I was there. I said this matter shouldn't be buried, but Vought International told me that heroes cannot let the public down."
The host paused for two seconds.
"Are you saying that Homelander stood by and let them die?"
Maeve looked at the camera.
"I'm saying that he could have saved some people, but he chose to leave."
...
Outside the broadcast studio, the trending topics on social media jumped three times in a row. On the CNN backend monitoring screen, the number of real-time viewers crossed 80 million.
In the Vought International Public Relations Department, Ashley shouted at her team.
"Don't cut! No one is allowed to cut! Cutting the feed now is equivalent to admitting it!"
A manager looked up.
"The comment section on the official channel has exploded; the servers are sounding alarms."
Ashley crushed her paper cup.
"Let the servers sound alarms, don't let Homelander sound the alarm!"
...
Inside the broadcast studio, the host was no longer looking at his cue cards.
"Starlight, you brought materials tonight as well?"
Annie opened the second file.
"This is the internal chain of how Vought Internationalconspires to create Superhuman terrorists. compound v is shipped overseas, then enemies are created, and finally, the Superheroes are sent in to'solve' it."
Transport records, fund flows, target areas, and accident reports appeared on the screen.
The host's voice hitched.
"Are you saying that the so-called Superhuman terrorist attacks partly originate from Vought International?"
Annie looked at the camera.
"Not partly. They personally light the fire, and then sell fire extinguishers to the entire nation."
...
Inside the Safe House, Hughie stared at the data.
"130 million. Noah's simultaneous broadcast room has also exploded. He's asking if he can add a'Subscribe to me'."
Ryan replied quickly.
"Tell him he can add it tonight, but no dancing. Dancing on a serious occasion is likely to get reported by the old men in Congress."
Frenchie typed on the keyboard.
"Facebook is starting to glitch, and Twitter retweets are delayed by over twenty seconds. Friends, the phones of Americans are going to work until they smoke tonight."
Mothers Milk stood by the window.
"The military channel is in chaos; they're asking if the V24 project has been mentioned."
Ryan looked at the screen.
"Don't rush. The knife has to go in layer by layer; the last thrust is what really hurts."
...
In the broadcast studio, the host finally couldn't help but ask.
"Ms. Maeve, are you sure these documents haven't been edited or forged?"
Maeve placed an original memory card on the table.
"The original is here, and backups have already been sent to the Congressional Special Investigation Committee and three major media outlets. You can question me, but don't pretend that Vought International is the only one in the world that knows how to preserve evidence."
Annie continued.
"I also know they will say we are crazy, say we were threatened, say we betrayed the team, so we prepared the next part."
Becca's recording did not show her face; only processed audio and transcripts with obscured identities appeared.
"He locked me in a community. Vought Internationalarranged my identity, arranged my neighbors, arranged everything, just to make the truth disappear."
The host's expression finally lost control.
"Does this testimony involve sexual assault allegations against Homelander?"
Maeve replied.
"It involves victims being forced into silence, and also involves Vought International's years of covering it up."
Annie looked at the camera.
"We will not disclose the victim's private information. She has already been hurt once; the audience does not need to gawk at her wounds a second time."
...
Inside the Safe House, Becca stood by the door without moving, and Butcher turned the communication volume down a notch.
Ryan asked quietly from the room.
"Mom, is that person talking about you?"
Becca squatted down and pulled the door open a little.
"It's me, but I am here now, not in that cage."
Ryan looked at the living room screen, then at Butcher.
"Then will everyone hate him?"
Butcher looked at the child, and it took him a long time to squeeze out a sentence.
"If people still have brains, they should hate him."
Ryan didn't interject, simply handing the publish button for the last file to Hughie.
"It's your turn. Don't let your hand shake. If you shake and mess it up, I'll just say it's a 'British maneuver'."
Hughie glanced at Robin, then looked at Annie on the screen.
"I'm not shaking. I'm just finally waiting for the moment they should be afraid."
...
In the broadcast studio, Annie heard the confirmation sound in her earpiece, and she pushed the last file toward the host.
"This last one is the compound v human experimentation reclamation report. It contains the list of subjects, death records, and child batch numbers."
The host turned the first page, and he froze completely.
The director didn't cut the camera, and the audience clearly saw him turn the second page halfway, his finger stopping on the death statistics column.
Maeve spoke up.
"Vought International assigns numbers to children, reclaims the failures, and writes off deaths as project losses."
Annie added.
"Homelander knows about part of it, and he even helps Vought International maintain this myth, because the myth keeps him standing at the very top."
The host looked up, his voice no longer as steady as it was at the beginning.
"You are accusing Homelander of rape, murder, standing by and letting people die, and participating in Vought International's cover-up of human experimentation and the creation of Superhuman terrorist incidents on a nationwide live broadcast."
Maeve looked at the camera.
"Yes."
Annie also looked at the camera.
"Yes, and the evidence has been made public; everyone can download it."
The backend data jumped to 200 million, then the monitoring screen turned entirely red. Twitter, Facebook, and the official Vought International forum simultaneously showed widespread outage warnings.
...
Inside the Safe House, Frenchie whistled.
"230 million. Friends, A-Zu is suffering social death in every living room tonight."
Ryan looked at the download count on the screen.
"Don't rush. He won't just suffer social death. A man-child like him, once he loses the applause, will start looking for toys to smash."
Mothers Milk turned his head.
"You mean he's going to take action?"
Ryan picked up his jacket.
"I'm saying he should already be watching it now, and he's not watching it happily."
...
Inside the Vought Tower lounge, all live broadcast feeds were connected to the same wall.
Homelander sat on the sofa, the remote control in his hand already cracked, and Annie's voice continued on the screen.
"If you ever believed in him, please look at the evidence now. If you were ever afraid of him, please remember that fear does not equal love."
Maeve looked at the camera one last time.
"He is not a god; he is just a monster raised by Vought International."
Homelander stared at that sentence, the smile on his face slowly failing to hold up.
On the television wall, the host asked in a low voice.
"If Homelander is watching this broadcast right now, what would you like to say to him?"
Annie didn't look away from the camera.
"You can't fool everyone anymore."
Maeve pushed the evidence drive toward the camera.
"John, the bell has tolled."
Homelander's breathing drowned out the sound of the TV, and the remote control shattered into powder in his palm.
The next second, he squeezed out a sentence at the entire television wall.
"Liars."
Chapter 96: Shattered God
"Liar."
The voice was very soft, as if ground out from between clenched teeth.
Homelander stared intently at the screen.
Annie was crying, and Maeve looked grim.
These two women, once meek and obedient before him, were now skinning him alive in front of the whole world.
"...He forced me, using his status, his power..." Annie's voice came from the speaker, tearful, intermittent, yet incredibly clear.
The veins around his eye sockets bulged one by one, and a red glow began to flicker in his eyes, accompanied by a low, buzzing sound like an electrical overload.
Two red beams swept across.
The entire TV wall, along with the load-bearing wall behind it, was sliced neatly in half.
The cut edges glowed bright red, and the steel bars melted and dripped down like wax.
Shards and sparks from the exploding screen scattered throughout the room.
A piece of plastic flew past Madelyn's face, leaving a bloody scratch.
Madelyn was knocked to the ground by the shockwave, her hair slightly singed and curled.
She didn't care about the pain, covering her forehead as blood streamed down through her fingers.
"John! Stop! This is just a PR issue, we can handle the PR!"
Homelander turned his head.
The red glow in his eyes had not yet faded, glaring brightly in the dimly lit room.
"Handle it?"
He took a step forward, his leather shoes crunching crisply on the broken glass.
Madelyn instinctively shrank back.
"Hundreds of millions of people are watching, Madelyn. They say I'm a rapist, they say I'm a lunatic."
Homelander walked over and crouched in front of her.
He carried an intense, burnt smell, and his breath, blowing onto Madelyn's face, was terrifyingly hot.
"How do you intend to handle it?"
He tilted his head, and his face suddenly shifted into a comical, signature TV host smile:
" 'We deeply regret Homelander's recent personal behavior; he has currently suspended all activities and is undergoing psychological counseling'? Is that the kind of boilerplate you mean?"
The smile vanished completely the next second.
"Or should we find a few more idiots to do a tearful PR interview?"
A chattering sound came from behind the sofa.
Ashley buried her head in her knees, her teeth chattering uncontrollably, wishing she could disappear on the spot.
Madelyn's hands groped blindly on the floor until she touched the cracked tablet.
As if she had found some treasure, she muttered frantically: "We can say it's AI-generated! Yes, deepfake technology! This is a conspiracy against you. We still have connections with the military, we have V24, we can suppress public opinion..."
"The military?"
A cold laugh spilled from Homelander's throat.
The sound was low but carried a certain high-frequency vibration.
The wine glasses on the cabinet began to tremble, followed by the entire wall of wine racks.
"Bang!"
Dozens of bottles of fine wine exploded simultaneously, red and yellow liquid splashing all over the floor mixed with shards; the intense smell of alcohol mixed with the burnt scent made one want to vomit.
"That old bastard Edgar has wanted to replace me with V24 for a long time, did you think I didn't know?"
Homelander stared at her, "You all think I'm about to expire, don't you?"
"No! No! You will always be Vought's core asset!"
Madelyn screamed, her voice cracking.
"Asset."
Homelander repeated the word.
The red glow in his eyes receded, and his gaze was as cold as ice.
Before Madelyn could react, her neck was tightly gripped by a gloved hand.
Homelander lifted her up with one hand, her feet off the ground.
The leather of the glove rubbed, making a harsh sound.
"Am I a product? A sticker on a lunchbox?"
Homelander gritted his teeth, the muscles in his cheeks twitching slightly: "You tell me to smile, and I have to show eight teeth. You tell me to save those idiots, and I have to be a mascot. I listened to everything you said, I even tolerated that janitor. But what was the result?"
Madelyn desperately clawed at his wrist with both hands, her fingernails leaving white marks on the special material of his uniform, but that arm didn't even budge.
Her face turned purple, a rattling, wheezing sound came from her throat, and her vision began to darken.
Just a second before she was about to lose consciousness, the pressure on her throat suddenly vanished.
Madelyn fell heavily to the floor, sprawling in a disheveled heap, coughing and gasping for air, tears and snot mixed together.
Homelander stood up straight, not even glancing at her.
"They still don't love me. They would rather believe two bitches."
He looked up at the ceiling.
"Since they don't want a hero..."
Homelander's mouth slowly curled, revealing a row of neat white teeth; the smile was strange and insane.
"Then I'll give them something else."
Before he finished speaking, he slammed directly into the floor-to-ceiling window.
The reinforced bulletproof glass didn't even hold for a second, instantly shattering into countless glittering shards.
With a loud crash, he had already charged into the night wind of New York.
The airflow surged back into the chaotic office, blowing papers everywhere.
The wind was strong.
Homelander floated above Manhattan.
Beneath his feet were dense neon lights and a long line of traffic.
He closed his eyes.
Countless sounds surged into his ears like a tide—car horns, sirens, the vomiting of drunks, the flirting of couples, and the news broadcasts from countless televisions.
He blocked out the nonsense, focusing only on those three words: Homelander.
Soon, those voices became clear.
"Did you watch that livestream? Is he really that kind of monster?"
"I told you, his face is as fake as a plastic model."
"Vought's stock has plummeted, sell quickly!"
"Oh my god, will he come to kill us? We live right nearby..."
"Daddy, is he a bad guy?"
"Don't be silly, that's all just PR acting."
...
These voices buzzed in his head like flies.
Homelander opened his eyes, which were full of bloodshot veins and red light.
"I am not a monster," he muttered to himself, his voice scattered by the wind, "I am the hero."
He looked down at the dense mass of tiny black dots below.
"I've saved you so many times!"
He suddenly roared, and two blinding red beams shot out instantly.
The red light cut directly into the middle of an office building below.
The glass curtain wall melted instantly under the high heat, and the reinforced concrete was sliced open like tofu, with billowing black smoke and blinding fire erupting from the cut.
Three whole floors were cut off directly.
After a brief silence, there was a deafening sound of collapse.
Countless burning rocks, steel bars, and glass rained down onto the street.
Air raid sirens and car alarms followed immediately, ringing out in unison.
People on the street finally reacted, looking up at the sky.
A young man taking a selfie on the side of the road shook, dropping his phone onto the concrete; the screen cracked into several pieces, the image still capturing his terrified expression, as well as the glowing red dot in the sky in the background.
The screaming finally exploded.
"He's crazy! Homelander is crazy!"
"Run!"
Traffic began to lose control, car after car crashing into each other, the sound of airbags deploying and horns blaring filling the air.
People began to push and trample each other, the crying and screaming instantly drowning out the sound of the wind.
Homelander listened to the commotion below, his originally tense face slowly relaxing.
The firelight flickered on his face.
He laughed, laughing especially easily.
No need to pretend anymore.
No need to be that damn perfect savior anymore.