Next morning, over a hundred thousand fans had already packed MetLife Stadium.
The atmosphere was electric.
Everyone was hyped as hell for the showdown between A-Train and the new hotshot, Shockwave. Who would keep the crown as the fastest supe on the planet?
Starlight and Black Noir stepped out first and got a solid roar from the crowd. Then Homelander and Queen Maeve appeared, and the screaming hit another level.
Meanwhile, Vought Vice President Madeline was onstage in front of a wall of cameras, giving her usual speech about supes joining the military to "better protect American citizens."
"Congratulations," Ashley said, finding Ivan near the security zone. "Upper management talked it over. You're staying on as Vice Head of Security, but you're also my assistant and Vice Head of PR now. Salary bump of seventy percent."
"Honored," Ivan replied with a charming smile, shaking her hand.
"Here's the file you'll need. Full dossiers on all Vought supes. They're not easy to handle. I already highlighted the important ones for you."
"Thanks." Ivan took the thick folder. Once Ashley walked off, he flipped it open. Only one name was circled in red: Homelander.
The note underneath was blunt: Never contradict Homelander. Report any issues directly to Vice President Madeline.
Yeah. Of course it's you, Homelander.
A few minutes later, Ivan's earpiece crackled with the first job of the day.
"A-Train and his girlfriend are screaming at each other in the green room. Go shut it down. Don't let those idiots ruin today's race."
"Copy that."
Ivan walked over to the green room door. Before he even stepped inside, he heard the shouting.
"You promised you'd announce me in front of everyone! Now you're backing out? You're a fucking asshole!"
The door flew open. Pop Claw stormed out, furious, and left Ivan standing face-to-face with a very awkward-looking A-Train.
"Doesn't today's race mean anything to you?" Ivan stepped into the green room, voice calm but sharp. "You almost fucked everything because of one woman. What the hell is going on in that head of yours?"
"Don't worry. I know how to handle her. After I win, I'll go smooth things over."
Truth was, A-Train wasn't about to give up the whole forest for one tree.
"Just make sure you sort your shit out. And watch your back. I think someone's onto you."
"Got it."
A-Train knew how bad this could get. If Compound V got exposed, a lot of people would burn, starting with Homelander. He was the one who told Pop Claw to pick up the doses. A-Train just delivered them where Homelander wanted. Getting caught meant his life would turn into a nightmare.
A staffer poked his head in. "Race is starting. Get ready."
"On it." A-Train slipped on his goggles and earpiece, then ducked into the bathroom. When he came back out, his eyes were wide and wired, body buzzing.
Ivan could tell at a glance the guy had just shot up with Compound V. The stuff was already frying his brain. This fucker was hooked bad. Quitting would probably hurt worse than dying.
The race kicked off.
A-Train and Shockwave dropped into their starting stances on the track.
"Ready…"
The starter pistol cracked.
Both supes exploded forward like bullets. They moved so fast the human eye couldn't track them. The wind they whipped up blasted the fans in the front rows, forcing them to squint.
"I see A-Train. He's way too fucking hyped. Definitely juiced," Butcher muttered from the stands, binoculars pressed to his eyes.
Right then he felt eyes on him. He turned and locked stares with Homelander across the stadium.
The race lasted barely a few seconds. In super-slow-motion replay, A-Train destroyed the finish line with a massive lead. His speed topped 1,600 kilometers per hour, over 1.3 times the speed of sound, faster than most bullets.
"He did it again! A-Train wins! A new world record! They said lightning doesn't strike twice, but this man just keeps making miracles!!"
The stadium exploded. Screams, cheers, and pure pandemonium shook the entire MetLife field.
---
Meanwhile, Butcher and the boys slipped out of the stadium. They'd found nothing useful in A-Train's green room, so they doubled down on Pop Claw. She was still their best shot at a breakthrough.
Back in the monitoring room, the screens showed live feed from her apartment.
Pop Claw walked in carrying two cans of beer and started drinking alone. She was pissed that A-Train had gone back on his word. After finishing every last drop, she pulled a blue vial of Compound V out of a black bag.
"There it is," Butcher said, leaning close to the monitor.
She jammed the needle into her arm. Then she grabbed a massive barbell and started pumping iron like a maniac.
The four men watched in disbelief as the hundred-plus-kilo barbell went up and down for over an hour without her breaking a sweat.
"Shit, that stuff makes steroids look like candy," Hughie muttered. Nobody noticed the hungry glint in his eyes.
When the boys were wondering what to do, there was a knock at Pop Claw's door.
"Hey, Popclaw. Mr. Lutz. Um... house call? I'm just here for the rent. The rent you said you would pay."
The landlord, a balding, middle-aged guy, was nervously standing at the door.
"You should come in. You can wait there if you want, but it's gonna take me a few minutes to write the check. I don't bite. Unless you want me to. That was a joke, Alek." Pop Claw opened the door and said in a seductive voice.
The guy blinked, then smirked like he'd won the lottery.
"Well, damn. You gonna pay right…?"
"Yes.. but first," Popclaw grabbed him by the belt and yanked him inside, kicking the door shut. "We're playing cop and robber, Gary. You're the dirty landlord. I'm the big bad Supe who's gonna make you confess. You are in?"
"Haa~ alright!"
Then things got nasty.
Pop Claw, still buzzing hard, decided to fuck the landlord role-playing as a cop punishing the dirty robber. She rode him right there on the floor, giving A-Train a shiny green hat in the process.
But in her drug-fueled frenzy, she slammed her ass down too hard and crushed the poor bastard's skull like a watermelon.
One second MM was smirking and saying they were getting real freaky. The next second he instinctively grabbed his own head.
Whew. Still in one piece.
Inside the apartment, Pop Claw stared at the body on the floor in total panic. First kill. She had no fucking clue what to do.
Butcher's eyes lit up. "Perfect timing. People spill everything when they're scared shitless."
And he was right. Dead on.
___
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Read 12 Advance Chapters—P@t- Captain69