"Hugo!"
Harvey Cheney's lips were trembling.
In that moment, he actually looked like a loving father.
"Sierra Sullivan! Jayce! What will it take for you to let my son go?"
Harvey Cheney's voice was quiet when he asked, and it was tinged with a sob.
It sounded less like a question and more like a plea.
Compared to the insufferably arrogant man he was before, he seemed like a completely different person.
Sierra Sullivan chuckled. "You really know when to bend the knee, don't you?"
Harvey Cheney didn't get angry at Sierra Sullivan's mockery. He just kept looking at her with pleading eyes.
"Sierra Sullivan, my son's been shot. The wound is still bleeding, we can't delay. Can you please let a doctor—"
"No." Sierra Sullivan refused flatly. "The good die young, but a scourge lasts a millennium. Don't worry. Hugo isn't just a scourge, he's a scourge with a Superpower. Losing a little blood won't kill him!"
