Chapter 400: Silver Banshee (1)
The Kryptonian CEO
The experience in the underground base left a deep psychological shadow on Linda. She often dreamed of the thirteen ghostly figures looming in the thick green mist.
Soul? Body?
Luke Shaw could actually separate his soul and split off thirteen consciousnesses, each with an independent personality.
Kryptonian history contained many records about magic, but she had never heard of any magic that could divide a person's soul into thirteen parts. Thirteen independent consciousnesses—and every one of them was Luke Shaw!
"Too terrifying. That guy is practically inhuman."
Linda shivered inexplicably, secretly resolving to be more cautious and less reckless around Luke in the future.
As Christmas approached, Linda's life became busy. Over the past six months, she had successfully adapted to her role as the workplace queen, managing Tesla reasonably well.
Her management style was completely different from Luke's. No matter the problem, she adhered to eight simple words: If you can do it, great; if not, get lost.
Many engineers resented the company's management style and resigned, but Linda didn't care. In her view, Tesla only needed one engineer—her. That young man named Barry Allen was passable enough to count as half. The rest could go.
Kryptonians learned Earth's current technology by the age of five; designing a suit of armor was child's play for her.
While this management style was not conducive to the company's long-term planning, Linda had her own agenda. With Barbara's help, she developed a self-defense bracelet specifically designed for women. It was an instant hit upon release.
Many media outlets hailed it as a groundbreaking product with fashion-forward artistry. Tesla used this opportunity to open up the women's market, becoming the preferred choice for many female consumers.
On December 23rd, Linda finished her work and brought a gift to the suburban cottage where Siobhan McDougal was staying.
"Here's your Christmas present. Open it."
Siobhan looked at the girl before her with a complicated expression. A sense of inferiority arose, like an ugly duckling in a polluted pond gazing up at a lofty white swan.
"You... you shouldn't come back here anymore."
Linda paused. "..."
"I'm going back. Back to the UK. We probably won't see each other again."
"Didn't you say you fell out with your family? Did they take you back?"
Siobhan didn't want to discuss the topic. She opened the gift box, which contained a pair of gloves and a metal shell that looked like a mask. Although she didn't know their purpose, she politely nodded.
"Thank you for the gift. I really like it."
Linda picked up the mask and held it out to her friend, speaking with a slightly forceful tone.
"Put them on. Trust me, you'll love them."
Siobhan was skeptical, but remembering the catastrophe that was about to arrive, she smiled faintly. She put on the gloves, opened the metal shell, and fitted the mask over her face.
The next second, something strange happened: the gloves and mask flowed like liquid.
Siobhan was startled and was about to resist, but seeing Linda's encouraging expression, she closed her eyes, letting the liquid spread, covering her arms and face.
A few seconds later, the mask solidified, and Linda's voice rang out.
"It's done. You can look now."
"What a beautiful woman! Absolutely gorgeous."
Siobhan opened her eyes. A mirror appeared before her, and when she saw the figure reflected in it, she froze.
"Is this... me?"
The ugly, terrifying skull was gone, replaced by a beautiful, British-style face—a face she knew well: her former self.
Siobhan looked utterly disbelieving. She tremblingly reached out her hand, feeling the cold, metallic touch on her face.
"My face. It's really my face! It's back."
"It's really back!"
"Linda, how... how did you do this?"
Siobhan was overwhelmed with joy, her arms shaking. Someone who hadn't experienced it could never understand what it felt like to become a monster—the loneliness and despair that consumed you little by little, turning you into a true beast.
Linda raised an eyebrow, quite pleased. "It's a face-changing mask. I designed it myself. With this, you can go out normally and never have to worry about strange looks again."
"So, do you like it?"
"Of course I like it! I love it so much!"
Siobhan covered her mouth and turned her head away to hide the moisture in her eyes.
"Thank you, Linda, truly. This is the best Christmas gift I've ever received."
"Then what are we waiting for?"
Linda rushed over and held Siobhan's arm, like a little sister clinging to her elder. "We're going shopping! Right now."
"Okay, I'll follow your lead."
Siobhan wiped away her tears and gave a genuine smile.
The period before Christmas was the liveliest time in America. Supermarkets, shops, amusement parks, movie theaters—all entertainment venues were holding events. The two girls walked arm-in-arm down the street, becoming a beautiful sight.
Looking at the bustling crowds, Siobhan felt the long-lost joy of being human. She wanted to be normal, not the so-called Silver Banshee.
She wanted to walk proudly on the street, side-by-side with Linda, becoming the center of attention for the opposite sex.
"Father, I'm sorry. I'm destined to disappoint you."
Siobhan clenched her fists, a hint of ruthlessness entering her eyes.
The Ritual on the Island
With Luke absent, this year's Christmas seemed a bit muted. After completing the demands on the list, Linda stayed in Coast City for two days before returning to Metropolis.
She was now the CEO of Tesla; employees could rest, but the boss could not.
Meanwhile, on an unmarked island between England and Scotland, the residents were performing their annual Ancestral Sacrifice.
The ceremony was held inside a castle, presided over by Caine McDougal, who possessed the bloodline of the ancient Gaels and was renowned in the magical world.
In a fire pit several meters wide, flames burned fiercely.
Caine stood on the steps, arms outstretched, shouting loudly at the flames. As strange and peculiar syllables exploded in the air, the fire suddenly surged, and illusory figures emerged from the twisting sparks.
These figures, holding long swords, short knives, and heavy hammers, wearing ancient armor, sacrificial robes, and dark hoods, stood like statues around the fire pit.
"Pray! To the ancient heroes, the immortal warriors!"
"Beg them to protect the bloodline of the Gaels, so that the McDougal family may live on for generations, forever!"
Caine roared. The surrounding Gaels knelt, pounding their right fists against their chests and chanting a loud battle song.
The magnificent sound echoed around them, carried by the night wind toward the sky.
On a hillside not far from the castle, Siobhan pulled back her cloak, revealing a face as terrifying as the Silver Banshee's beneath her mask.
She placed the prepared sacrifices on a makeshift altar, knelt on one knee, and prayed to the void.
"My Master, the great Banshee King, Crone, I offer this sacrifice to you—the bloodline of the McDougal family—and I beg for your power."
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