Chapter 51: Black Noir's Clone
Becca stood in the doorway, showing no intention of moving aside.
"Billy. I told you. You coming here only makes things more complicated."
"Victoria Neuman already knows about this place," Butchersaid. "Homelander will find out sooner or later, too. Do you think you can hide? You've been hiding for eight years, and in the end, you were still found."
Becca's fingers tightened around the doorknob.
"Then what do you suggest? Take him away? Can you protect him? You can't even protect yourself."
Butcher didn't respond. He pulled his phone out of his pocket, opened a video, and handed it to Becca.
The video was filmed at the base last night—Butcherbreaking a hammer handle with a single punch. The quality was poor and the lighting dim, but his actions were clear.
Becca finished watching the video and handed the phone back to him.
"What did you take?"
"compound v."
Becca's expression changed.
"You're crazy."
"Maybe." Butcher tucked the phone back into his pocket. "But I can fight now. If Homelander comes, I can hold him off. Let me see Ryan and teach him how to protect himself. Just in case I'm not around one day, he'll be able to survive."
Becca looked at him for a long time. Then she stepped back and cleared the doorway.
"He's drawing in the backyard. Don't scare him."
Butcher walked inside. The living room was the same as last time: toys, picture books, and a glass of juice on the coffee table. He walked through the living room and pushed open the back door.
The backyard wasn't large, but the lawn was neatly trimmed, with a few tomato plants in the corner. Ryan was sitting next to a small plastic table, holding a box of crayons and drawing something on paper. He was wearing blue shorts and a white T-shirt, and his brown hair was a bit messy from the wind.
Butcher walked over and crouched down next to Ryan.
"What are you drawing?"
Ryan looked up at him. Those eyes were exactly like Homelander's—blue, clear, but lacking that sharpness and aggression. They were just a child's eyes: curious, quiet, and a little timid.
"A whale." Ryan turned the paper around to show him. On it was drawn a large blue oval with eyes and a mouth, and a crooked jet of water spraying from the top.
"It looks great."
"Who are you?"
"My name is Billy. I'm your mom's friend."
Ryan looked at him for two seconds, then lowered his head and continued drawing.
Butcher crouched beside him, saying nothing.
"Do you like whales?" he asked after a while.
"Yeah. They're big, but they don't eat people. They only eat small fish."
"How do you know?"
"It's in the book." Ryan picked up a blue crayon and colored another layer over the whale. "The book my mom bought me. About ocean animals."
Butcher thought of The Deep. That guy could also communicate with ocean animals. Ryan liked ocean animals, and The Deep liked to f*** fish. They weren't from the same world.
"What else do you like?"
"Dinosaurs." Ryan looked up. "T-Rex. It has teeth this big." He stretched out both hands to gesture.
"The T-Rex is definitely impressive."
"But they're all dead." Ryan's voice lowered a bit. "The book says big animals die easily."
Butcher was silent for a moment.
"Not necessarily," he said. "Some very big things live a long time."
Ryan tilted his head at him.
"Like what?"
"Like… mountains. Mountains are huge, and they live a very long time."
Ryan thought about it, nodded, and then continued drawing.
Becca stood inside the back door, watching Butcher and Ryan's backs. She leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, her lips pressed into a thin line.
Butcher crouched for a few more minutes, then stood up.
"I'm heading out," he said to Ryan.
"Goodbye, Billy."
Butcher turned and walked a few steps, then stopped.
"Ryan."
"Yeah?"
"If your mom isn't home and someone knocks on the door, don't open it."
Ryan blinked.
"Why?"
"Because not everyone is as good as your mom."
Ryan looked at him, then at the crayon in his hand, and lowered his head to continue drawing.
Butcher walked into the house. Becca was still standing in the doorway.
"Are you done?"
"I'm done."
"Who does he resemble?"
Butcher thought for a moment.
"You. I said that last time."
"You said that last time too."
"Because it's a fact."
Becca lowered her head, looking at her feet.
"Victoria Neuman came by again last week. She said she wanted to take Ryan to Washington to 'receive a better education.' I said no. She said, 'Think about it again.'"
"You can't let him go."
"Of course I can't. But how long can I hold her off?" Beccalooked up. "She has people, guns, and the law on her side. I have nothing."
Butcher reached out and touched her arm.
"You have me."
Becca looked at his hand, neither pulling away nor responding.
"What can you do?"
"I can do more now than I could before." Butcher pulled his hand back. "If someone knocks, I'll be the one to stop them."
He walked to the door and pulled it open.
"Billy," Becca called after him.
He stopped.
"Thank you for not scaring him today."
Butcher didn't look back and walked out.
2:00 PM, Queens base.
Lu Ren arrived. When he entered, Butcher was sitting at the long table, holding a beer can but not drinking, just turning it in his hands.
"Did you see him?" Lu Ren sat down.
"I did."
"How was it?"
"He's a good kid," Butcher set the beer can on the table. "Doesn't look like his dad. Not at all."
Lu Ren didn't respond.
[Side quest "Becca's Secret" progress updated: Butcherhas gained partial trust from Becca. Next step: Gain direct trust from Becca herself. Current trust level: 45%.]
He closed the panel.
"Victoria Neuman wants to take Ryan away?"
"Yeah. Said it was for a 'better education.' Really, she just wants to use Ryan as leverage to control Homelander."
"Does Homelander know?"
"No. Victoria Neuman won't let him know. If Homelanderknew she was messing with his son, he'd twist her head off." Butcher opened the beer can and took a sip. "Victoria Neuman has Translucent's medical report, Becca's address, and Maeve's daughter in her hands now. Her leverage is growing."
"So we need more leverage, too."
"What do you have in mind?"
Lu Ren thought for a moment.
"Black Noir's clone. The photo Black Noir gave me—the face in the incubation tank looks just like Homelander. That clone escaped and is hiding somewhere. If we find him, we'll have a trump card."
"A trump card that can actually fight?"
"Black Noir said he can handle Homelander."
Butcher put down the beer can.
"How do we find him?"
"Black Noir said he 'won't live much longer.' He might know the clone's whereabouts. I'll go ask him."
"Be careful. Black Noir doesn't trust anyone."
"He trusts me," Lu Ren said. "Because he gave me that photo."
Butcher glanced at him.
"When did you get so confident?"
Chapter 52 Black Noir
"Starting from the day I made Homelander lose his composure."
Butcher smiled. It was brief, but he definitely smiled.
Four in the afternoon, 42nd floor of Vought Tower.
Black Noir's room was at the end of the corridor; there was no nameplate on the door, only a room number. Lu Renknocked three times.
No one answered. He knocked three more times.
The door opened a crack, and Black Noir's mask appeared in the gap.
"I saw the photos," Lu Ren said. "You said you wouldn't live much longer. Where is the clone that escaped?"
Black Noir was silent for a few seconds, then opened the door.
The room was very small, smaller than Lu Ren had expected. There was a single bed, a wardrobe, and a desk. On the desk lay a katana and an open book. The book was Hemingway's "The Old Man and the Sea."
Black Noir walked to the desk, picked up the book, turned to a certain page, and handed it to Lu Ren.
In the margin, a line of text was written in small, neat handwriting: "New Jersey, Camden, abandoned subway station."
"He's hiding there?" Lu Ren asked.
Black Noir nodded.
"What's his name?"
Black Noir picked up the katana from the table and wrote a character in the air. The blade sliced through the air, leaving a thin silver line.
The character was: "Zero."
"Zero?" Lu Ren repeated.
Black Noir put the sword back on the table and wrote another phrase: "I am not the only one. He is the first. I am the second. There is a third, not yet awake."
Lu Ren watched those silver traces slowly fade in the air.
"Where is the third?"
Black Noir shook his head. He didn't know, or perhaps he couldn't say.
"What is your ability?" Lu Ren asked.
Black Noir did not answer. He walked to the window, turning his back to Lu Ren.
The room was quiet for a moment.
Lu Ren put the book back on the table.
"Thank you."
He walked toward the door.
"Lu Ren." Black Noir spoke. His voice was very faint, as if coming from very far away.
Lu Ren stopped.
"I have killed many people. For Vought International, for Homelander. I have killed people I didn't want to kill. Zero is different. He has never killed anyone. He is the only one who is clean."
Lu Ren turned around.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Find him. Don't let Vought International find him." Black Noir turned around, the eye area of his mask facing Lu Ren. "If he must die—let him die clean."
Lu Ren nodded and walked out.
In the corridor, he took out his phone and sent a message to Butcher: "The clone is at an abandoned subway station in Camden, New Jersey. Codename 'Zero'. I'm going to find him."
Butcher replied instantly: "Alone?"
"It's faster alone."
"Kimiko is over there. Let her support you."
Lu Ren read the message, put his phone back in his pocket, and walked into the fire escape.
The moment he turned into lightning, he recalled what Black Noir had said— "He is the only one who is clean."
A clone who had never killed anyone. Someone who wore the same face as Homelander but had never done any evil.
Was there still such a person in this world?
Silver-white arcs of electricity streaked across the Manhattan sky, flying toward New Jersey.
---
Camden is on the east side of New Jersey, separated from Philadelphia by a river. In the fifties, this city was a major industrial hub; now, only empty factories and poor people remain.
Lu Ren landed at the entrance of the abandoned subway station—a brick building with no door, the walls covered in graffiti, the ground scattered with broken liquor bottles and needles.
He walked into the brick building. There was a square hole in the floor, its edges cemented, with a rusty iron ladder leading down. He stepped onto the ladder, his footsteps echoing in the tunnel for several seconds.
It was deep underground, the air damp and smelling of urine and rust. Arcs of electricity lit up at his fingertips, illuminating the narrow passage.
At the end of the passage was an abandoned platform. On the platform was a row of concrete benches, and the walls were plastered with advertisements from the nineties—a smiling woman holding a bottle of Coke, her face rotted away by water stains.
There was a faint light at the end of the platform.
Lu Ren walked over and saw a person in the corner at the end of the platform. He was sitting on the concrete floor, back against the wall, knees pulled to his chest, wearing a black hoodie with the hood pulled up. Hearing footsteps, he looked up. Lu Ren's electric arc illuminated his face.
Homelander's face. Exactly the same—blonde hair, blue eyes, broad jaw, thin lips. But his gaze was completely different. In Homelander's eyes, there was hunger, pride, and aggression ready to overflow at any moment. In this person's eyes, there was nothing; it was empty, like a container that had been emptied, leaving only a thin, fragile shell.
"Are you Zero?" Lu Ren asked.
He nodded. The movement was small, as if he were afraid of being seen if he nodded too much.
"Black Noir sent me to find you."
Zero's gaze shifted, like a pebble thrown into water, the ripples spreading and then vanishing. "He sent you?"
"He said you've never killed anyone."
"I haven't."
"Then why did you run out?"
Zero was silent for a few seconds. "I wanted to see the sky. After being soaked in a basement for twenty years, I wanted to see what the real sky looked like."
Lu Ren squatted down beside him. "Have you seen it?"
"I have. It's blue." Zero looked up, staring at the concrete ceiling above, as if he could see through it to the sky. "It's not the same color as the one I saw in the containment tank. The blue in the containment tank was fake."
Lu Ren scanned the surroundings with an electromagnetic field—there was no one else.
"Vought International is looking for you."
"I know."
"If Homelander knows you exist, he will come for you, too. He will kill you."
Zero buried his face in his knees. "Then let him kill me. It doesn't matter."
"You don't want to live?"
"I don't know why I should live." Zero's voice came from behind his knees, muffled. "When I was created, they only gave me one instruction—wait. Wait for Homelander to lose control, wait for Vought International to give the order, wait for me to kill him. I waited for twenty years, and no one gave the order. Later, the containment tank malfunctioned, the liquid leaked, and I woke up. I walked out. I didn't know where to go, so I walked here."
Lu Ren looked at him. A young man who looked exactly like Homelander, curled up in the corner of an abandoned subway station like an abandoned dog.
"I have a place where you can stay. It's not a containment tank; it's a room. It has windows, and you can see the sky. Are you willing to go?"
Zero looked up, his eyes glistening. "You won't kill me?"
"I won't kill you."
Zero slowly stood up. He was the same height as Homelander, but his shoulders were narrower and he was thinner, as if he had been poured from the same mold but not filled completely.
He followed Lu Ren up the iron ladder and out of the brick building.
The sunlight outside made him squint. He reached out his hand, letting the sunlight fall into his palm, and watched it for a few seconds.
"This is the color," he said.
Lu Ren sent a message to Butcher: "Found Zero. Bringing him back to the base."
Butcher replied: "The base isn't safe. Victoria Neuman's people are hanging around nearby. Take him somewhere else."
Lu Ren thought for a moment and typed another address—Brooklyn, the warehouse where Abigail used to live. The lock was still good, and there was no one around.
"Take him there," Butcher replied. "I'll come by later."
Lu Ren took Zero through the streets of Camden, walked into an alley with no one around, turned into lightning, wrapped his arm around Zero's waist, and took off. Zero didn't scream, struggle, or even close his eyes during the flight. He watched the city below change from gray to green, from green to gray, like a baby looking at a kaleidoscope.
Forty minutes later, Brooklyn warehouse.
Lu Ren pushed the door open. The furnishings inside were the same as that day—a cot, a chair, a teacup, and folded blankets. Sunlight streamed in through the gaps in the wooden planks, painting stripes of light on the floor.
Zero walked in, stood in the sunlight, and closed his eyes.
"Is it safe here?" he asked.
"Temporarily safe."
Zero opened his eyes, looking at the cracks in the wall and the dust on the floor. "It's bigger than the containment tank. And dirtier than the containment tank."
"Can you make do?"
Zero walked to the cot and sat down. The bed frame creaked. "I can make do."
Lu Ren rummaged through the corner and found the blankets Abigail had left behind, tossing them to him. Zero caught the blankets, folded them, spread them on the cot, and lay down. He stared at the ceiling, the angle exactly the same as the posture Abigail had when she looked at the ceiling while alive.
Lu Ren stood at the door, watching his face. Homelander's face, but when relaxed, it didn't look quite as hateful.
"I'm going out for a bit. Stay here and don't open the door."
Zero nodded.
Lu Ren closed the door and used lightning to fuse the inside of the door handle—it couldn't be opened from the outside, but it could be opened from the inside. When Zero wanted to go out, he just had to push it.
He turned into lightning and flew back to Manhattan.
At the base, Butcher sat at the long table with a mobile phone in front of him. On the screen was an unsaved number.
"Did you contact Victoria Neuman?" Lu Ren walked in.
Chapter 53: Starlight Show
Butcher looked up. "How do you know?"
"MM told me."
Butcher glanced at MM in the corner. MM was sitting at the computer, back to them, shoulders tense.
"Contacted her," Butcher said. "Haven't called yet. Thinking about how to phrase it."
"You want to work with her?"
"Not work with her. Use her. She can help me deal with Vought International."
"She killed Translucent. She has her own team of supes. She uses everyone. If you deal with her, she'll eat you alive."
Butcher stood up and walked over to Lu Ren. "Then tell me, besides her, who else can help me deal with Vought International in Congress? You? Starlight? That clone hiding in the warehouse?"
Lu Ren looked at him.
"Butcher, you've changed since you injected V."
"I haven't changed. I'm just able to fight now."
"You didn't use to talk to people like Victoria Neuman."
"I didn't have the leverage she needed before." Butcherpicked up his phone and lit up the screen; the number was still on the dial pad. "Now I do. She knows I can fight. She knows I have Soldier Boy. She knows I have you. She has Becca's address, and I have dirt on her. This is called mutual checks and balances."
MM stood up from the computer and walked over to Butcher.
"What dirt do you have? Tell me, what is this dirt?" MM's voice was very low, but every word was like a nail. "Victoria Neuman doesn't have any dirt. She doesn't let anyone take her photo, doesn't let anyone record her voice, and leaves no paper trail. When she killed Translucent, she used a knife, not her head-popping ability—because she knew using her power would leave evidence. She is ten thousand times smarter than you."
"So what?" Butcher's voice rose. "I should just sit here and wait? Wait for her to take my wife and kid? Wait for her to take you all out one by one?"
"And so you go to her, and she'll let you go?" MM shook his head. "No. She'll use you, and when she's done, she'll throw you away. Just like she threw away Translucent."
The two men stood face-to-face, neither backing down.
"Enough." Lu Ren said.
Butcher and MM both looked at him.
"I'll handle the situation with Victoria Neuman." Lu Rensaid.
"How will you handle it?" Butcher asked.
"What she wants is to control everyone. So I'll make her think she can't control me." Lu Ren walked over to Butcher, took his phone, and placed it on the table. "Your task now is to keep an eye on Vought International. Stormfront is here, and she's with Homelander. The two of them together are more dangerous than Victoria Neuman."
Butcher stared at Lu Ren for a few seconds, then sat back in his chair.
"Fine. The Victoria Neuman thing, let it rest for now." He glanced at MM. "Are you satisfied?"
MM didn't speak, turned around, and walked back to the computer.
Lu Ren checked the time. Six in the evening.
"I'm heading back to Vought Tower. There's an event tonight."
"What event?"
"Arranged by Ashley. Starlight and I are going to Broadway to see a musical. PR stunt."
Butcher snorted. "Go ahead. Play your part well."
Seven in the evening, Midtown Manhattan.
There was a long line outside the Broadway theater. Lu Ren was wearing a dark suit, and Starlight was in a black evening gown. The two walked hand-in-arm down the red carpet, with reporters taking photos on both sides.
"Silver Lightning! Look over here!"
"Starlight! Smile!"
Starlight waved with a smile, turned her head, and leaned her lips close to Lu Ren's ear. "Ashley said she's releasing photos of us holding hands tonight."
"Then we'll hold hands."
Starlight's fingers interlaced with his, gripping tight. The sound of shutters became more frequent.
Once inside the theater, the lights dimmed. They sat in a box on the second floor, and the actors on stage began to sing. Starlight leaned on Lu Ren's shoulder, their hands still interlaced.
"Lu Ren."
"Hmm."
"Where did you go this afternoon?"
"New Jersey. Taking care of some business."
"What business?"
Lu Ren hesitated for a moment. "Found someone. Looks exactly like Homelander. A clone, hasn't killed anyone."
Starlight's hand tightened.
"Where is he?"
"In a safe place."
Starlight was silent for a moment. "When will you take me to see him?"
"You want to see him?"
"I want to see a person who looks exactly like Homelanderbut hasn't killed anyone. I want to know if such a person exists."
Lu Ren turned his head to look at her. The stage lights reflected in her eyes, twinkling.
"In a few days. Once he's settled."
Starlight nodded and leaned back against his shoulder.
The musical lasted two and a half hours. When the show ended, reporters swarmed them again. Starlight held Lu Ren's arm, smiling as she answered questions— "The show was great," "We're doing very well," "Thanks for your concern."
On the way back to Vought Tower, Starlight drove, and Lu Ren sat in the passenger seat.
"Are you staying at my place tonight?" Starlight asked.
"Sure."
"You've been staying at my place more than your own room lately."
"Do you mind?"
Starlight smiled and didn't answer.
The car parked in the Vought Tower underground garage. The two walked into the elevator, and Starlight pressed the button for the 46th floor.
As the elevator doors were about to close, a hand reached in.
The doors opened again. Homelander was standing at the entrance. He was wearing a black turtleneck sweater and dark trousers, and the bruise on his face had mostly faded, leaving only a small pale yellow patch on his left cheekbone.
He glanced at Starlight, then at Lu Ren.
"Back from your date?"
"Saw a play." Starlight said.
"Was it good?"
"Not bad."
Homelander stepped into the elevator and stood next to Lu Ren. The elevator doors closed, and the numbers started jumping up from B2.
"Lu Ren." Homelander said.
"Hmm."
"That person you brought that day—is he still in New York?"
Lu Ren knew he was talking about Soldier Boy.
"Don't know."
Homelander didn't press further. He watched the numbers jumping above the elevator door.
"I've been seeing a therapist lately," he said. "Vought International arranged it. She says I need to 'process childhood trauma.'"
Starlight glanced at him but didn't speak.
"I told her I didn't have a childhood. I grew up in a laboratory tank. She said that counts as a childhood, too. I asked, 'You call that a childhood?'" Homelander chuckled. "Then she started crying. The therapist cried. Isn't that funny?"
The elevator arrived at the 46th floor.
The doors opened. Starlight walked out first, with Lu Renfollowing behind.
"Lu Ren." Homelander called out to him.
Lu Ren stopped.
"If you want to bring him to see me, I won't hit him."
Lu Ren didn't turn around. "You hit him last time."
"He hit me last time."
Lu Ren walked out of the elevator. The doors closed behind him.
Starlight was standing in the hallway waiting for him.
"What was he talking about?"
"Thinking about his dad."
The two walked into Starlight's room and closed the door.
Eleven at night.
Lu Ren leaned back on the sofa, and Starlight went to take a shower. The sound of water came from the bathroom.
He took out his phone and sent a message to Butcher: "Zero is in the warehouse. Go see him tomorrow."
Butcher replied with one word: "Good."
He sent another one: "Victoria Neuman sent me a message. She said, 'Let me know when you've made up your mind.' She knows I want to find her."
"Don't reply."
"Didn't."
Lu Ren put down his phone. The bathroom door opened, and Starlight walked out wearing a bathrobe, her hair wet, her face misty with steam.
"What are you thinking about?"
"Thinking about Victoria Neuman."
Starlight walked over, sat on his lap, and rested her hands on his shoulders.
"Don't think about it." She lowered her head and kissed him. "Don't think about her tonight."
Lu Ren put his arms around her waist.
Chapter 54 Blue Hawk
A-Train spent the entire morning in the gym at Vought Tower.
He ran on the treadmill for two hours, setting the speed to 120 km/h, and the treadmill let out a piercing screech as if it were about to fall apart.
When he stopped, his sweat had pooled into a small puddle on the floor.
The Blue Hawk situation kept him awake.
Blue Hawk was one of the alternates for The Seven, focusing on the Midwest region, with "fighting street crime" as his brand.
Last week in Chicago, during an arrest, Blue Hawk pinned two Black teenagers to the ground, pressing his knee against the back of their necks, and said to the camera, "This is what happens to gang members."
Those two teenagers were later proven not to be gang members; one was fifteen and the other sixteen, and their backpacks contained textbooks, not guns.
Vought International issued an apology, stating, "Officer Blue Hawk's judgment of the situation was flawed."
Blue Hawk himself posted a video on social media saying, "I followed procedure and did nothing wrong."
A-Train turned off the treadmill and wiped his face with a towel.
He walked over to the punching bag in the corner of the gym and threw a punch at it.
The bag swung a few times, the chains creaking.
He didn't have Lu Ren's strength, nor did he have Homelander's destructive power, but his punch was not light.
"You're here."
A-Train turned his head. Lu Ren was standing at the doorway, wearing workout clothes.
"Looking for me?"
"Butcher sent me to find you." Lu Ren walked in. "He said you've been looking for information on Blue Hawk lately."
A-Train threw the towel onto a chair. "Who is Butcher?"
"That doesn't matter. You just need to tell me, are you planning to go after Blue Hawk?"
A-Train was silent for a few seconds.
"He stepped on two kids. He treated them like criminals just because they were Black. Then he apologized, saying 'judgment was flawed.' Do you know what he said to his teammates in private? He said, 'Those two little brats really needed to be taught a lesson.'"
"How do you know that?"
"He told me himself." A-Train pointed to his own ears. "He thought I couldn't hear him. People who run fast have good hearing."
Lu Ren leaned against the wall.
"What do you want to do?"
"I want him to apologize. A real apology, not the script written by Vought International. In front of those two kids."
"And then?"
"Then he can go wherever he wants."
Lu Ren looked at A-Train. In the original story, this guy was selfish, cowardly, and full of excuses, but the expression on his face right now was different.
"I'll help you set up a meeting with Blue Hawk," Lu Rensaid, "but you have to promise me one thing."
"What thing?"
"Don't kill him."
A-Train nodded.
"I don't kill people."
2:00 PM, Midtown Manhattan.
Butcher stood in the middle of Times Square, wearing a bodysuit in the color scheme of the Stars and Stripes. The suit was made by someone MM found, rushed in three days; it had a white star printed on the chest and a blue belt around the waist. Seven minutes ago, he had knocked down three security guards sent by Vought International to "maintain order," using only his fists—one punch each.
Tourists were holding up their phones to film him.
"Captain America! Captain America!" someone shouted.
Butcher waved at the camera.
"I am not Captain America," he said. "I am America's trash collector. All that trash manufactured by Vought International—Homelander, Stormfront, The Seven—I'm going to sweep them all away, one by one."
The live broadcast signal was pushed nationwide. Vought International's PR team was in an uproar; Ashley had been cursing at the screen in the conference room for five minutes. Edgar sat at one end of the conference table, hands crossed, saying nothing.
On the big screen in Times Square, Butcher's face occupied half the screen.
"Homelander, I know you're watching," Butcher pointed at the lens. "That hit you took from your dad, did it hurt?"
Top floor of Vought Tower, Homelander turned off the TV.
Stormfront sat on the sofa, holding a cup of tea.
"You're not going to respond?"
"No response."
"The whole country is watching. If you don't respond, they'll think you're scared."
Homelander walked to the window, looking in the direction of Times Square. It was too far to see, but he knew Butcherwas standing there.
"He is no match for me."
"He isn't. But the people behind him might be."
Homelander turned around.
"Soldier Boy won't help him."
"How do you know?"
"Because Soldier Boy looks down on him. He only uses one standard to judge people—whether they can fight. Butcher can't fight."
Stormfront put down her teacup.
"What about Lu Ren?"
Homelander didn't answer.
"Lu Ren can fight," Stormfront stood up. "And he's hooking up with Starlight, the one you're hyping up. Don't you care?"
Homelander walked up to her, looking down at her.
"You're stirring things up."
"I'm reminding you." Stormfront reached out and touched his face. "You have more than one enemy. Butcher is shouting in the front, Soldier Boy is waiting in the back, and Lu Ren is watching from the side. You can't handle them alone."
"So you need me," Homelander said.
Stormfront smiled.
"So you need me."
4:00 PM, Brooklyn warehouse.
Zero sat on the cot, with a book in front of him. Butcher had brought it for him when he came—Marine Life Encyclopedia. He was flipping to the whale page, his finger slowly sliding over the picture of a humpback whale.
The door opened. Butcher walked in, still wearing that Stars and Stripes bodysuit.
Zero looked up, saw his outfit, and froze for a moment.
"Are you American?"
"Yes."
"Why are you dressed like that?"
"Because I'm going to be a hero." Butcher pulled over a chair and sat down, looking at Zero's face. Homelander's face, but the eyes were different. "Do you know who you are?"
"I know. Clone. Designation Zero. Purpose—kill Homelander."
"Do you want to kill him?"
Zero lowered his head, looking at the humpback whale in the encyclopedia.
"I don't know. I've never seen him."
"I have," Butcher said. "He looks exactly like you. But you are empty, and he is full. And full means bad."
Zero closed the book.
"Did Black Noir send you?"
"Lu Ren sent me." Butcher took a mobile phone out of his pocket and placed it on the cot. "This is for you. It has my number in it. If someone knocks on the door, text me first."
Zero picked up the phone. The screen lit up; he had never touched a smartphone before, and his finger hovered over the screen, not knowing where to tap.
"Press the green one." Butcher pointed to it.
Zero pressed it. The screen unlocked.
"You'll learn slowly."
Butcher stood up and walked to the door.
"Zero."
Zero looked up.
"Don't die. You're the only one who looks like him but isn't annoying."
Butcher pushed the door open and left.
7:00 PM, 46th floor of Vought Tower, Starlight's room.
Starlight was making pasta in the kitchen. Still canned tomato sauce, but this time she added some onions and minced meat. Lu Ren leaned against the kitchen doorframe, watching her chop onions.
"You're crying."
"Onions are irritating." Starlight wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. "It's not because of you."
"I didn't say it was because of me."
Starlight pushed the onions into the pot and stir-fried them a few times.
"Butcher made a statement in Times Square today. Did you see it?"
"I saw it."
"Is he your friend?"
"Sort of."
"What was he wearing?"
"The Stars and Stripes."
Starlight turned the heat down and turned around to look at Lu Ren.
"Did he inject compound v?"
Lu Ren didn't answer.
"I know even if you don't say it." Starlight walked over and stood in front of him. "The speed and strength he showed on TV aren't something an ordinary person could have. He's a Supe now."
"He is."
"Doesn't he hate Supes anymore?"
"He does. But now he hates specific people."
Starlight leaned against him, resting her chin on his shoulder.
"This world is getting more and more chaotic."
"It's always been chaotic."
"I used to think that as long as I joined The Seven, I could change things. Now that I'm in, nothing has changed."
Lu Ren stroked her hair.
"You changed me."
Starlight looked up at him.
"When did you become such a smooth talker?"
"Learned it from you."
Starlight smiled. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him.
"The pasta is about to burn."
Lu Ren let her go. She turned around to stir the pasta in the pot.
9:00 PM, A-Train's apartment.
A-Train sat on the sofa with a glass of whiskey in front of him, untouched. His phone rang. He took a look—it was a call from Blue Hawk.
He answered it.
"A-Train, I heard you were looking for me." Blue Hawk's voice came through the receiver, deep and lazy.
"Yes."
"What's up?"
"I want to talk to you about that Chicago incident."
Blue Hawk was silent for a moment.
"That's already in the past. Vought Internationalapologized, and I issued a statement. What else do you want?"
"I want you to say 'I'm sorry' in front of those two kids."
Blue Hawk laughed.
"You've got to be f*cking kidding me."
"I'm not kidding."
"A-Train, I've known you for over a decade. You're not that kind of guy. Who brainwashed you?"
Chapter 55: Engagement with Starlight
A-Train gripped his phone tightly.
"Nobody brainwashed me. I just think you're wrong."
"I'm not wrong. Those two kids didn't have guns in their backpacks, but their cousins did. Chicago gangs are all the same; if you don't step on them today, they'll step on you tomorrow."
A-Train hung up the phone.
He picked up the whiskey and downed it in one gulp.
Then he picked up his phone and sent a message to Lu Ren: "Blue Hawk won't apologize. I'm going to handle it myself."
Lu Ren replied instantly: "Wait one day. I'll arrange it."
"Arrange what?"
"Let him talk to you in person."
A-Train put down his phone.
He looked at the night view of Manhattan outside the window, not thinking about anything.
11:00 PM, the Queens hideout.
Butcher sat at the long table with a file in front of him. It was from MM—Victoria Neuman's congressional voting records, political donation records, and private itinerary.
"She's lobbying for the Superhuman Regulation Act," MM said, standing next to him. "If this act passes, all Supes will have to register with the government. Vought Internationalwill lose its monopoly on Supes."
"So she's helping us?"
"She's helping herself. Once the act passes, she'll have a list of all the Supes in her hands. She can control whoever she wants."
Butcher closed the file.
"When is the vote for this act?"
"Next Friday."
"Nine days left."
"Right."
Butcher stood up and walked to the window. The night view of Queens outside was gray and dim, with nothing noteworthy.
"Victoria Neuman sent me a message today."
"What did she say?"
"She said, 'Call me when you've figured it out.'"
"Did you call?"
"No," Butcher turned around, "but I'll have to call eventually."
MM looked at him without speaking.
Butcher walked back to the long table, picked up his phone, and lit up the screen. Victoria Neuman's number was still on the dialer.
He stared at the string of numbers for a few seconds, then put the phone back on the table.
"Wait a bit longer," he said.
Outside the window, a black SUV drove past the entrance of the hideout. It was moving very slowly, and the windows were tinted. Butcher didn't see it. MM didn't see it either.
Inside the car, someone raised a camera, aiming it at the direction of the hideout. The sound of the shutter was very faint, masked by the sound of the engine.
The car drove away, disappearing into the night of Queens.
---
Ashley called Lu Ren and Starlight into the conference room on Friday morning. There were two contracts on the table, the Vought International logo printed on the cover, with dense terms in the footer.
"Next Saturday, Madison Square Garden," Ashley pushed the contracts over, "the engagement ceremony. Vought International will broadcast the whole thing. The ring has already been designed: platinum with diamonds, two diamonds set in the shape of a lightning bolt."
Starlight picked up the contract and flipped through it. "This isn't an engagement. This is a commercial event."
"It's both," Ashley smiled. "Aren't you dating? We're turning the dating into an engagement. The engagement into a marriage. The marriage into a brand. A one-stop service."
Starlight glanced at Lu Ren. His expression hadn't changed.
"What if we don't agree?"
"Page nine, clause seven of the contract." Ashley flipped to that page and tapped it with her finger. "'Party B and Party C must cooperate with all public relations activities of Party A during the contract period.' You both signed it."
Starlight bit her lip.
"A fake engagement. It ends when the act is over," Lu Rensaid.
Ashley looked at him, then at Starlight. "Of course. The contract doesn't say you must actually get married. But the marketing department suggests you maintain a 'romantic relationship' for at least a year to maximize commercial value."
"A year?" Starlight's voice rose.
"Starting from the engagement. After a year, you can have a 'peaceful breakup.' The company will help you plan the breakup strategy—that's a business too." Ashley stood up and took the contracts. "Take a look at them. Sign them and give them to me before Monday."
She walked away in her high heels.
Only two people remained in the conference room. Starlight closed the contract, placed it on the table, leaned on the table with both hands, and lowered her head.
"I thought you really liked me," she said.
"I do," Lu Ren stood up and walked over to her side, "but I don't like being orchestrated by others."
Starlight turned her head to look at him.
"Then what do you like?"
Lu Ren looked at her. Her blonde hair was scattered over her shoulders, her lips were pressed into a line, and there was light in her eyes. He reached out and tucked her hair behind her ear.
"I like you," he said, "not the arrangement."
Starlight grabbed his hand.
"Then propose to me. Not the proposal from Vought International, but a proposal from you."
Lu Ren looked at her and was silent for a few seconds.
"Okay."
Starlight's eyes widened. "Really?"
"Really. But not now. If I propose now, Vought International will say it was their plan."
"Then when?"
"Wait until this act passes. Wait until Victoria Neuman's matter is resolved. Wait until Homelander and Stormfrontstop watching us."
Starlight let go of his hand and leaned back in her chair.
"Then how long do I have to wait?"
"It won't be too long."
Starlight looked at him for a long time, then sighed.
"You... everything is always 'wait.' In the end, nothing will be left."
She stood up, picked up the contract, walked to the door, and stopped.
"I'll be at the engagement next Saturday. Not because of the contract. It's because I want to wear that white dress, stand on stage, and let everyone look at you."
"Look at me for what?"
"To see if you really like me."
She opened the door and left.
Lu Ren stood in the empty conference room.
[Side quest "Starlight Night" derivative quest triggered: True Engagement. Quest description: During the engagement ceremony arranged by Vought International, show "true feelings" to Starlight. Reward: Hero Points × 3000, Starlight Favorability + 30. Failure penalty: Starlight Favorability reset to zero.]
He closed the panel.
Next Saturday. Eight days left.
2:00 PM, the Queens hideout.
Butcher sat at the long table with an engagement ceremony plan in front of him. Ashley had someone send it over—every member of The Seven had one so they could prepare gifts.
"Did you get this?" Butcher asked Lu Ren.
Lu Ren had just entered the door, and seeing that pink proposal plan, he frowned slightly.
"Who sent it?"
"Ashley. Mass sent." Butcher flipped through it. "'Silver Lightning and Starlight's Engagement of the Century.' Are you serious?"
"It's fake. Vought International arranged it."
"Does Starlight know it's fake?"
"Yes."
Butcher tossed the plan aside.
"That's perfect. On the day of the engagement, everyone will be at the garden—Homelander, Stormfront, The Seven, the media, politicians. Victoria Neuman will be there too. We need someone to do something on the outside."
"Do what?"
Chapter 56: Butcher Injects compound v
"Go find some dirt on Victoria Neuman." Butcher picked up a USB drive from the table. "Frenchie hacked into Victoria Neuman's private email and found an address. She goes there once a month, stays for two hours, alone. That's her safe house. There might be something in there she's trying to hide."
"Who's going?"
"Zero," Butcher said. "No one knows him. No one's going to notice some regular guy in a hoodie hanging around that building."
"He's not ready."
"He doesn't need to be ready. He just needs to walk into that building, plug the USB drive into a computer, and copy the files." Butcher set the USB drive on the table. "He doesn't look like you. He looks like Homelander. But that building is in rural Virginia; nobody there recognizes Homelander's face."
Lu Ren was silent for a moment.
"Ask him if he's willing."
Butcher nodded and picked up his phone to send a message.
A few minutes later, the phone lit up. He turned the screen to show Lu Ren.
Zero's message: "I'll go."
4:00 PM, Vought Tower gym.
Blue Hawk was hitting the heavy bag. He was eight years older than A-Train and twice his size, with fists like bowling balls. The heavy bag swung wildly, the chains screeching with harsh friction.
A-Train walked in and closed the door.
Blue Hawk stopped boxing and turned around.
"A-Train. Long time no see."
"I'm here to talk to you about Chicago."
Blue Hawk took off his boxing gloves and threw them on the floor.
"That's water under the bridge."
"It's not," A-Train said, walking up to Blue Hawk. "You told two kids they needed to be taught a lesson. They were only fifteen or sixteen."
"Fifteen or sixteen is an adult. In Chicago, fifteen- or sixteen-year-olds can pick up a gun and kill someone." Blue Hawk wiped away some sweat. "I've been working in Chicago for twenty years. You run fast, you catch people. I enforce the law, I beat people up. Different roles."
"Your role is beating people up?"
"My role is to make the people who are too scared to fight shut up."
A-Train's fists clenched. Blue Hawk saw it and the corner of his mouth curled up.
"You want to fight? Go ahead. After you're done, you can go explain it to Edgar."
A-Train stared at him for a few seconds, then unclenched his fists.
"I'm not here to fight you. I'm here to tell you—you owe those two kids an apology. If you won't say it, I'll say it for you."
"You'll say it for me? What are you going to say for me?"
"Tell them that Blue Hawk from The Seven is a spineless son of a bitch who bullies the weak."
A-Train turned and walked away. Blue Hawk stood where he was and chuckled.
"Fast runner, fast mouth."
7:00 PM, Brooklyn warehouse.
Zero sat on the cot with a phone in front of him. On the screen was the address Butcher had sent—Charlottesville, Virginia, a normal little town. He read it three times and memorized it.
The door opened. Kimiko walked in, carrying a plastic bag containing a sandwich and water. She set the bag on the cot and signed something.
Zero didn't understand.
Kimiko rolled her eyes, pulled out her phone, and typed a line: "Butcher sent me to teach you how to use the USB drive."
Zero picked up the USB drive and looked at it.
"Plug it in. Copy. Pull it out."
Kimiko typed another line: "Yes. It's that simple."
"Then why do you need to teach me?"
"Because you've never touched a computer." Kimiko took an old laptop out of her backpack, turned it on, and said, "Practice first."
She taught him for forty minutes. Zero learned how to plug in the USB, open folders, copy, paste, and eject. His movements were slow, but he did every step correctly.
Kimiko typed one last line: "When are you going?"
"Butcher said Monday."
Kimiko nodded, packed up the laptop, and walked toward the door.
"Kimiko." Zero called out to her.
She stopped.
"Thank you."
Kimiko didn't turn back; she just waved her hand and left.
9:00 PM, 46th floor of Vought Tower, Starlight's room.
Lu Ren was leaning on the sofa, with Starlight lying on his lap, staring at the ceiling. The TV was on, volume turned down low, broadcasting the news—Victoria Neuman was speaking in Congress, calling for the rapid passage of the Superhuman Regulation Act.
"When did she become so annoying?" Starlight asked.
"She's always been annoying. She was just good at hiding it before."
"You said she can make people's heads explode?"
"Yes."
Starlight reached up and touched her head. "Then I'll stay away from her."
Lu Ren stroked her hair.
"For next Saturday's engagement, is there anyone you want to invite?"
Starlight thought about it.
"My mom. She should come."
"If she comes, Vought International will arrange a seat for her. In the front row."
"Then she'll be very happy. She's always wanted to sit in the front row." Starlight smiled. "When I was a kid in beauty pageants, she always sat in the last row because the tickets for the front row were too expensive."
Lu Ren looked down at her.
"When your mom signed that contract back then, did she know what it was?"
Starlight was silent for a few seconds.
"She did. But she thought it was an opportunity. To leave a small town in Wisconsin and become a star in a big city. She thought it was a good thing."
"What do you think?"
"I think she was wrong." Starlight's eyes turned red, but she didn't cry. "But I don't blame her. It wasn't easy for her to raise me alone. She wanted me to have a good life."
Lu Ren held her hand.
"Next Saturday, when your mom comes, I'll say something to her."
"What?"
"Thank her for raising her daughter so well."
Starlight sat up and looked at him.
"If you say that, she'll cry."
"Let her cry."
Starlight leaned on his shoulder and closed her eyes.
"Lu Ren."
"Hmm."
"I like you. Not just like, but *like*."
Lu Ren held her tighter.
Outside the window, the Manhattan night view was as bright as ever.
His phone vibrated in his pocket. A message from Butcher: "Zero agreed. Leaving Monday."
Lu Ren typed with one hand: "Alone?"
"Alone. He said he didn't want to drag anyone else into it."
Lu Ren put the phone down.
Monday. Two days away. Someone who looks like Homelander is going to Victoria Neuman's safe house to find dirt on her. The plan sounded stupid. But perhaps the stupidest plan in the world is the only one that could possibly succeed.
Starlight fell asleep in his arms.
He looked at her and didn't move.
3:00 AM on Sunday, Dr. Vogelbaum woke up. It wasn't a natural awakening; he was woken by pain. The pain of pancreatic cancer was like a dull knife churning in his stomach. He bit into his pillow to keep from screaming. The door to the inner room was closed, and someone in the hideout outside was snoring—maybe Frenchie, maybe Hughie.
He wouldn't make it through the week. He knew it. The cancer cells had spread to his liver and lungs; he could hear wet rales in his left lung when he breathed, like stepping into muddy ground after a rain.
The door opened. Butcher walked in, not turning on the lights, but the light from the hallway outlined his silhouette. He pulled up a chair and sat by the bed.
"You're not dead yet."
"Soon," Dr. Vogelbaum released the pillow and gasped for air. "What do you want?"
"A stronger compound v."
"The one I gave you last time was the purified version. It's already the strongest one on the market."
"It's not enough. I need one that can take down Homelander."
Dr. Vogelbaum stared at the ceiling, silent for a long time. His eyes appeared very bright in the darkness, like two dying coals.
"There is one. But it's never been tested."
"What?"
"The original formula. The 1944 version. The one Soldier Boy took." Dr. Vogelbaum turned his head to look at Butcher. "That version of compound v wasn't diluted or stabilized. After injection, the body will finish mutating within an hour. The survival rate—forty percent."
"And if you don't survive?"
"Death. Your heart explodes, or a cerebral hemorrhage. Take your pick."
Chapter 57: Butcher About to Go Dark
Butcher placed his hand on the edge of the bed.
"Where is the formula?"
"In my head." Dr. Vogelbaum pointed his finger at his own temple. "The last thing I have in this life."
"Give it to me."
Dr. Vogelbaum smiled. His lips were chapped and cracked, and the smile looked like it was about to draw blood.
"Do you know why I haven't died yet? It's not because I want to live. It's because I wanted to see who would come to ask for this thing. Homelander won't come; he thinks he's strong enough. Edgar won't come; he's afraid I'll give him a fake. Only you would come, Butcher. Because you have nothing, and you fear nothing."
He reached under his pillow and pulled out a small glass vial. The liquid inside was dark red, like diluted blood.
"The 1944 formula. I've kept it for over sixty years, never able to bring myself to use it."
Butcher took it and held it up to the light from the hallway. The dark red liquid sloshed slightly in the glass vial.
"How do I use it?"
"Intravenous injection. Push it fast, finish in ten seconds. Then wait. Either you change, or you die."
Butcher clutched the vial in his palm.
"Do you have any last words?"
Dr. Vogelbaum thought for a moment.
"Tell Edgar I know about his wife's affair. I didn't tell him because he deserved it."
Butcher stood up.
"That's it?"
"That's enough."
Butcher turned and walked toward the door.
"Butcher." Dr. Vogelbaum called him back. "You will die."
Butcher didn't look back.
"Maybe."
He walked out and closed the door.
Four in the morning, in the backyard of the hideout. Butcherstood in the open space, clutching the small glass vial. The dark red liquid looked like a clot of blood under the moonlight. He unscrewed the cap, and a scent rushed out—not the sweet smell of disinfectant from before, but the metallic tang of rust, so intense it was like licking a rusted iron pipe.
He stuck the needle into his arm, finding the median cubital vein. As the dark red liquid was pushed into his bloodstream, he felt a burning sensation, like someone had poured a pot of hot oil into his veins.
Ten seconds. The vial was empty.
He dropped the syringe and waited.
At first, nothing happened. Three seconds later, his heart skipped a beat. It wasn't nervousness; it actually skipped, as if someone had pressed a pause button. Then his heart exploded—not literally, but it was beating so fast, so incredibly fast, that Butcher could hear a continuous drumming sound coming from his chest cavity. He knelt on the ground, supporting himself with his hands. The concrete floor cracked—not because he smashed it, but because his body weight was increasing, and two small craters appeared where his knees pressed down.
His muscles were expanding. His shirt burst open at the shoulders, and the sleeves tore into two pieces. The skin on his back looked like someone was blowing air underneath it, bulging out piece by piece to form rock-hard muscle blocks. He could feel his bones growing—his collarbones widened, his shoulder blades grew larger, and every vertebra in his spine was stretching. This process lasted for about a minute.
Then came the pain. It wasn't the burning sensation from before; it was as if all the bones in his body were cracking, reforming, cracking again, and reforming again. Butcher bit down on the back of his hand to keep himself from screaming. His teeth sank into his flesh, and blood trickled down from the corner of his mouth, dripping onto the cracked concrete floor.
It hurt for about two minutes.
Then it stopped.
Butcher stood up. He was half a head taller than before, his shoulders as wide as a door. His shirt was shredded, hanging on him like rags. He looked down at his hands—his palms were two sizes larger, his fingers as thick as sausages, and the veins bulged like earthworms. He clenched his fist. His bones clicked, but it wasn't a sharp snap; it was a low, muffled sound, like stones grinding against each other.
He walked to the wall. The wall in the back of the hideout was made of brick, thirty centimeters thick, plastered with concrete on the outside. He extended a finger and poked the wall. His finger didn't break, but the wall did. A hole, circular with clean edges, as if drilled by a drill bit.
He poked it again. Another hole.
He looked at his fingers. His nails were intact, and his skin wasn't even red.
"Fuck," he said.
He raised his head and looked at the sky. The moon was bright, and there were few stars. He took a deep breath, and then he jumped. It wasn't a jump; it was a launch. The ground beneath his feet exploded into a crater, and he shot into the night sky like a cannonball. The wind whistled in his ears, and the Manhattan skyline unfolded beneath him like a glowing carpet.
He hovered in the air for about five seconds, then began to descend. The moment he landed, he used his knees to cushion the impact, slamming into the ground and creating a half-meter-deep crater. There was no one around. The people in the hideout were probably woken up by the shock, but he didn't care. He stood up and brushed the dirt off his knees.
Then he walked into the hideout.
Everyone was awake. MM stood by the long table, holding a shotgun. Frenchie was huddled in a corner, clutching his laptop to his chest. Hughie stood up from his chair, mouth agape, forgetting to close it. Kimiko poked her head out from the kitchen doorway, holding a kryptonite knife. Soldier Boy sat on the sofa, the TV turned off; he watched Butcher, looking him up and down.
"You're still alive," Soldier Boy said.
"Alive."
"Can you fight now?"
Butcher walked up to Soldier Boy and extended his right hand. Soldier Boy grabbed his hand and stood up. The two men tested their strength in the air—Butcher's hand didn't budge, while Soldier Boy's hand began to tremble.
Soldier Boy let go.
"You can fight," he said.
Seven in the morning, 46th floor of Vought Tower.
Lu Ren was woken up by his phone vibrating. Starlight was still asleep, her head resting on his shoulder, her hair spread across his chest. He picked up the phone with one hand—a message from Butcher, containing only two words: "It worked."
Lu Ren looked at it for two seconds and put the phone down. Starlight stirred, but didn't wake up. He stared at the ceiling. Butcher had injected a stronger V. Now he was a "Supes" too. A Supes who hated Supes. This world was crazy.
Starlight rolled over in his arms, burying her face in his chest. "What time is it?"
"Seven o'clock."
"Sleep a little longer," she mumbled.
Lu Ren didn't move. He closed his eyes, his mind racing. Zero was leaving for Virginia today. Victoria Neuman's safe house was in Charlottesville. Butcher was now a super-soldier. Stormfront was still in Vought Tower. Homelanderwas still seeing a therapist. Next week's engagement ceremony. The bill vote. The Blue Hawk situation. The A-Train situation. The Maeve situation.
Too many threads. Like a knot of tangled rope.
"What are you thinking about?" Starlight's voice was muffled.
"Thinking about how to untangle a knot."
"Use scissors."
Lu Ren looked down at her. She hadn't opened her eyes, but the corners of her mouth curled up.
"Are you awake?"
"Not awake," she said, snuggling closer into his arms. "Talking in my sleep."
Lu Ren held her tighter.
Ten in the morning, Queens hideout.
Zero stood at the door, wearing a black hoodie, his hood pulled up, clutching the USB drive in his hand. Kimikostood next to him, typing on her phone screen, then showed it to him: "When you get there, check if there's anyone around. After you go in, lock the door. Plug in the USB drive, wait three minutes, unplug it. Leave."
Zero nodded.
"I'm leaving," he said.
Kimiko typed a line: "Be careful. That woman's head can explode."
Zero glanced at it, handed the phone back to Kimiko, pushed the door open, and walked out.
A gray car was parked outside, with Butcher in the driver's seat.
"Get in," Butcher said.
Zero got in the car and sat in the passenger seat. Butcherstarted the engine, the car drove out of Queens, and got onto the I-95 South.