Noon, the parking lot beside St. John the Evangelist Church.
Screech—
An inconspicuous white Jeep braked to a halt in a vacant spot. Butcher and Frenchie were just about to push the doors open and get out.
"Wait!" Hughie raised his hand to stop them, showing his phone screen. "Get back in, you guys need to see this."
Butcher and Frenchie immediately crowded around, grumbling, "Babyface, what is it now?" "It's not another one of those Queen Maeve action movies, is it?"
On the small phone screen, an absurd scene was unfolding: a middle-aged priest was tightly clutching an infant wrapped in white cloth, tearfully lamenting, "I am Rafe Stark of St. John the Evangelist Church. I am currently in the laboratory beneath the church."
"Look here, we raise children like livestock, turning them into mindless lambs... and look at these pregnant girls, they are being used as hosts to gestate monsters."
"It's the superpower drug provided by Vought Corporation. We clergy members are cooperating with them, working together to create Supe children, forging biological weapons in the name of the Lord... I am guilty, we are all sinners who deserve to go to hell!"
"Hahaha... Fuck me!" Butcher slapped the car seat hard, laughing heartily. "Doesn't this match the dirt we got from Standard? Now the fun is really starting!"
Hughie nodded, realizing that the evidence they held regarding Standard's use of 'Youth Moral Training Camps' to brainwash and control teenagers happened to fill the key missing link regarding the'source of victims' in this explosive live stream.
Frenchie looked at the priest who was continuously confessing in the live stream, then gazed at the Gothic church sitting peacefully in the sunlight.
With an expression like he'd seen a ghost, he muttered, "This... what is this? We haven't even made a move yet, and they're already infighting? This isn't how you confess to God, is it?"
While they were still in shock, vehicles began swarming toward the church entrance from the street.
Several news vans with satellite dishes mounted on their roofs braked sharply. The journalist teams, like well-trained commandos, rushed toward the church carrying cameras and holding microphones.
The surrounding crowd held up their phones, gathering outside the church to discuss loudly.
An old believer with gray hair and an old-fashioned suit looked at his phone screen, then looked up at the cross on the church spire, the prayer beads in his hand falling to the ground. "Fake... it's all the devil's lies..."
Not far away, a young girl in a studded leather jacket with green-dyed hair was live-streaming to her phone: "Fam, are you seeing this! That baby... is the child in his arms also a Supe? This is crazy! I told you there must be something behind these churches..."
Her words were interrupted by the roar of a burly man beside her: "I told you long ago none of these mystical things are any good, they're all liars and perverts!"
At the church entrance, a blonde female host with a 'Global News' ID badge hanging on her chest was reporting rapidly into the camera with the church as her backdrop: "We cannot currently confirm Pastor Rafe's mental state, but if the allegations are true, it will completely overturn public perception. This station will continue to follow..."
The chaotic arguments spread through the crowd like a virus.
While Hughie and the other two were discussing their action and infiltration plan, the car door was suddenly pulled open and then instantly closed.
In the back seat, Wade lay back and said, "Stop overthinking it, we're retreating."
Butcher turned his head to look at him and teased, "What, a guy like you can feel fear too? Shouldn't you just change your face and sneak in?"
"Back in the car!" Butcher made a split-second decision and barked. The three quickly shrunk back into the car, which was as hot as a steamer.
Wade handed over a DSLR camera and raised an eyebrow. "Without someone to expose them, who would just confess directly?"
Hughie suppressed the pounding in his heart and flipped through the camera's playback. The images shook violently: children chanting with eyes as hollow as dolls, pregnant women with glazed eyes lying in luxurious cells, the torn abdomens of girls in pools of blood, Supe newborns... every image matched Pastor Rafe's crazed words and the scenes shown in the live stream.
Hughie looked up, the doubt on his face vanishing. "Chameleon, it was you!"
"You should have said so earlier. We wasted a trip, driving an hour and a half to get here." A smile spread across Butcher's face as he started the engine, and the Jeep slowly drove away from the church.
Wade ignored their astonishment and tossed several black USB drives and a stack of paper files printed with the Vought logo onto the seat. "These are souvenirs from the lab. I'm sure you'll like them."
Frenchie quickly flipped through the files—project data, genetic sample numbers, supply distribution lists.
He clenched his fists in anger and gritted his teeth. "Damn it... damn it! I really want to turn back right now and shove those animals in their colorful robes down the toilet one by one."
"You won't run into them then." Wade waved his hand and chuckled. "Those people have already gone where they belong to explain their sins to their 'Lord' in person. The remaining small fry and victims can be left for the police and government to deal with."
He looked at Hughie, who was checking the electronic files and tapping on his keyboard, and cautioned, "Listen, for now, don't leak this stuff yet."
Butcher looked in the rearview mirror and asked in a deep voice, "Why?"
"Let the news fly for a while. Let Vought and the church use all their PR resources to put out this fire... let them think the storm has passed and the crisis is under control."
"You guys still have to go to the Believe Expo, right? If used well, this can lure away that guy who flies around in the flag. It'll be much easier for you to corner Ezekiel then, won't it?"
Frenchie burst out laughing. "Yes! Give them hope first, then throw that hope into a cesspool with your own hands. Now that's what I call art. I love it."
"This is a hundred times more vicious than simply handing the materials to a newspaper!" Butcher licked his lips excitedly.
Hughie put away the camera and USB drives, grinning. "We'll give them the fatal blow when they've let their guard down, in the place they least expect it!"
Wooo—Wooo—Wooo—
The ear-piercing sound of sirens approached from a distance, suddenly tearing through the heated discussion inside the car.
Outside the window, a stream of police patrol cars with flashing red and blue lights, along with black Suburbans bearing prominent counter-terrorism unit badges, formed a river of steel.
The flow of vehicles sped past them toward St. John the Evangelist Church, which was now receding from view.
Wade watched the receding traffic through the rearview mirror and smiled vaguely. "The show... has just begun, wouldn't you say?"
Hughie lowered his head to organize the files on his laptop and said with a smile, "Yes, Captain!"
Frenchie started swaying to the car music. "Woo-hoo! I'm ready... I'm ready!"
Butcher lit a cigarette and took a deep drag. "Hmph, a bunch of kids."
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