Outside the stadium, the crowds were surging.
Wade blended into the crowd, having changed into an inconspicuous gray hoodie with the hood pulled over his head.
He looked down at his phone screen, where a slowly moving red dot was hovering at the intersection ahead, following a blue navigation line.
You live and you learn.
Before they parted ways last time, Wade hadn't just planted a tracker on Butcher and his team's van; he had also quietly embedded a signal transmitter inside the box of temporary superpowers he'd provided them.
A few minutes later, amidst a long line of cars waiting at a red light, he locked onto an inconspicuous white van.
Wade walked briskly across the road and knocked on the closed rear door: "Hughie, good boy, open up!"
The door was yanked open with a clatter. Seeing that familiar old face outside, Hughie couldn't help but curse: "Fuck you! Why do you always turn into my dad?"
"And how do you always manage to find us?" He looked around, suspicious and uneasy. "Did you install a tracking device on the van?"
"Heh heh, what do you think?" Wade jumped into the van with a smile. His face rippled like melting wax, quickly shifting back into that deeply disfigured appearance. "Where is it? Take it out and let me see!"
Frenchie instinctively clutched his pocket tight, staring at him vigilantly, saying nothing.
Butcher, who had been staring at the computer monitor, looked up and glanced at Wade: "It's fine, give it to him. Friends should help and share with each other, right?"
Only then did Frenchie reluctantly pull a small glass vial containing a blue liquid from his pocket and place it carefully on the table.
Wade picked up the vial of so-called "compound v," while his other hand pulled a folded check from his pocket and casually tossed it out.
The fluttering piece of paper spun in the air and landed at Frenchie's feet.
"Look at you pathetic lot." Wade unhurriedly took out a portable syringe and began drawing the serum, wearing a look of disdain. "Can't you get a better van and gear? It's a miracle this piece of junk hasn't fallen apart yet."
Frenchie bent down to pick up the bearer check, and after just one glance, his voice cracked: "My God! Five... five hundred thousand?!"
"Small change, consider it a bit of sponsorship." Wade didn't even look up, focusing on pushing a drop of blue compound v out of the needle tip and onto his palm. "You're doing this life-risking work; you'll run out of money sooner or later. Without money, how can you cause trouble for Vought Corporation?"
He never did things without meaning or benefit. Butcher and his crew were like a school of catfish thrown into a pond; the more noise they made with Vought Corporation and the larger the waves they created, the more they would attract attention and fire.
'I still need to establish myself in the military and expand the market; I need them to keep stirring up trouble in that mess at Vought Corporation.'
The drop of blue liquid slowly dissolved in his palm, and a wave of realization flooded his mind.
[Analyzing... Long-acting Superpowered Genetic Serum]
[Composition: Unknown Stardust-type Protein Complex]
[Mechanism: Combines with dormant "adaptive gene segments" in the human genome, uses reverse transcriptase activity to integrate its own unknown genetic information into the host's DNA, and activates the expression of previously non-functional gene segments.]
[Effects: 1. Stimulates potential human gene segments, granting random superpowers. 2. Forcibly boosts superpowers, leading to an overload state. The more it is used, the stronger the addiction, the worse the effects, and it is highly likely to induce multi-organ failure and mental abnormalities.]
[Usage Age: The younger the age, the higher the probability of awakening abilities; infants are best. For adults, there is a 60% chance of gaining a random superpower, a 30% chance of gaining a superpower related to physical illness, and a 10% chance of immediate death.]
Wade put down the serum with an expressionless face and sat in an empty seat, a storm rising in his heart:'Stardust complex? A mysterious substance from space? Did Vought Corporation's founder extract it from a meteorite, or... did they obtain it from some alien remain?'
On the other side, Frenchie and Hughie were already shouting and cheering around the check with Butcher.
"Finally, we have money! God, let's hurry up and replace this damn piece of junk van. How about getting one that's bulletproof?"
"And we need to upgrade all kinds of surveillance equipment, weapons, and rent another safe house!"
"Finally, we don't have to eat cheap, near-expiry food and canned goods anymore!"
Butcher listened to his companions' cheers and lowered his voice: "Someone like 'Chameleon' who sells drugs definitely isn't short on cash. To put it plainly, he and Vought Corporation are competitors. He'd love to see Vought Corporation go under, so we need to be careful and keep our guard up."
"Hey, hey..." Wade lightly kicked them and spoke lazily, "Is this how you talk behind your benefactor's back? Saying it so openly, acting like I don't exist, right? If you don't want the check, give it back."
Butcher moved extremely quickly to snatch the check from Frenchie's hand and tucked it into his inner pocket, saying expressionlessly: "We still want the money. Anyway... we're all at odds with Vought Corporation."
At this moment, Hughie held up his phone screen and turned up the volume: "Look at this... the A-Train interview."
The screen was playing a clip from a press conference, where A-Train was forcing a smile to congratulate A-Train, not mentioning a word about his relationship with Popclaw.
The two, one black and one white, shook hands and hugged, looking very friendly.
On the surveillance screen, a woman's excited roars and moans came through.
"Ah, ugh—you damn bastard!"
The eyes of the group were instantly drawn to it.
They saw Popclaw writhing on the sofa with a frantic expression, clutching an empty syringe in her hand, which she tossed casually at her feet.
Immediately after, she sprang up from the sofa and began to "work out" in a nearly frenzied manner, emitting muffled thuds from time to time.
"Holy shit!" Frenchie whistled and swallowed hard. "She's not working out; she's tearing the house apart."
Hughie frowned: "What did she take? Is she on drugs?"
A knock on the door came from within the footage.
Popclaw paused, looked toward the door with a dazed expression, and stumbled over to open it.
Standing outside the door was the lecherous landlord, wearing a fawning smile and rubbing his hands together.
Not long after he entered to talk, Popclaw, like a female leopard capturing its prey, hungrily tackled him onto the rug in the entryway.
"Whoa—!" Frenchie let out an exaggerated exclamation.
"God, can this guy handle that? She's so violent." Hughie looked away awkwardly, his face turning a bit red.
Butcher had no interest in this R-rated broadcast; he was staring intently at the blue serum vial that Popclaw had left on the table.
He pulled open the partition to the driver's cab and shouted to MM, who was driving: "Drive faster! We need to catch her in the act; that Popclaw must know a lot about compound v!"
The van was not in the slightest bit chaotic; everyone (except Butcher) was gathered around the monitor, enjoying the show: "Wow?! She plays like that too!"
"Ho ho ho... and roleplay, I like it!"
Wade leaned back in his chair, calmly watching the obscene scene on the screen: 'Popclaw... A-Train's lover... a perfect weak point.'
His goal was clear: take Popclaw away if given the chance. Controlling her meant having a hold on A-Train.
For that speedster who had tasted failure and lost his honor, what price would he be willing to pay for the only love he had left?
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