Chapter 11: The Person Not on the List
"Don't ask me for specifics." Lu Ren turned around. "I only want to tell you—things you think are impossible might just be because you haven't seen the crack of possibility yet. I've seen even more impossible things become possible."
Starlight looked into his eyes for a long time.
"Do you always talk like this?" she asked. "Saying half and hiding half?"
"I'm used to it."
"Used to what?"
"Used to not committing to words," Lu Ren said. "Because if I say it, I might not be able to do it."
Starlight stood up, placed the blanket on the sofa, and walked over to Lu Ren.
"Then tell me," she said, tilting her head to look at him, her blonde hair falling against her cheeks, "is there one thing you can do?"
"What thing?"
Starlight reached out, just like at the press conference today, but this time it wasn't a handshake. Her hand touched Lu Ren's chest lightly and quickly, right on the silver lightning bolt emblem.
"Don't die," she said. "In this place, good people always die quickly."
She turned and walked toward the bedroom, stopping at the doorway.
"Help me close the window."
She entered the bedroom and closed the door.
Lu Ren stood where he was, looking down at his chest. The place she had just touched seemed to still hold a trace of warmth.
He closed the window, drew the curtains, and walked out the front door.
The corridor was empty.
As he passed the corner, he caught a glimpse of the camera at the end of the corridor, its red indicator light on—it was recording.
Vought International would see him walking out of Starlight's room.
Ashley would probably want to talk to him tomorrow.
"Fuck," he cursed, but the corners of his mouth were curved.
———
3:00 AM. Lu Ren lay on his bed in his apartment, staring at the ceiling.
Several things were spinning in his mind at once.
Abigail—tomorrow night at 8:00, North Wing, tenth basement level.
Butcher—the day after tomorrow at 8:00 PM, Hell's Kitchen laboratory.
Victoria Neuman—she knows he has met Butcher; she is monitoring him.
Black Noir—the black X badge, and that sentence: "They can't hear what I say."
Starlight—there was something in her eyes when she said "Don't die."
The Deep—that sleazy come-on; he won't let it go.
Maeve—the "M" on the note, is it her signature?
And that camera at the end of the Vought Tower corridor.
The light on the ceiling suddenly flickered.
It wasn't that the light was broken.
Lu Ren sat up and looked at the TV.
The TV wasn't on, but static appeared on the screen.
Through the static, Abigail's face slowly emerged.
"You promised," she said.
"I haven't gone back on my word," Lu Ren said.
"I know." Abigail's expression was somewhat stiff. "But I need to remind you of one thing."
"What?"
"Tomorrow night at 8:00, Homelander won't be there, Maeve won't be there, and The Deep and A-Train won't be there either. But there is one more person. You won't see that person on the list, because he isn't on any list."
"Who?"
Abigail's lips moved, but no sound came out.
The static on the TV screen suddenly became intense, the image distorted for a moment, then returned to normal—a generic late-night shopping channel, promoting a stainless steel kitchen knife that could cut tomatoes and cans.
What was she trying to say before she was interrupted?
Was someone monitoring her?
Lu Ren turned off the TV and walked to the window.
The North Wing annex stood silent in the night, the light from the tenth basement level shining through the ventilation duct, as faint as a firefly.
A woman was locked in there, along with a keeper whose name he didn't know.
———
7:40 PM. Lu Ren climbed out of his apartment window.
This time he didn't use lightning. He used the most primitive method—climbing down the exterior facade of the building. His fingers hooked into the gaps of the glass curtain wall, his feet stepped on the top edges of the window frames, layer by layer. The wind blew from the east, messing up his hair, but there was no sound, no flash of light.
The exterior wall of Vought Tower had surveillance cameras every ten meters. During the day, they looked like a row of mechanical birds; at night, their red indicator lights glowed like birds' eyes. Lu Ren spent fifteen minutes following a route where all the cameras happened to be turned away. It wasn't luck; it was the camera rotation frequency he had spent an hour memorizing that afternoon.
The North Wing annex was twelve floors shorter than the main building, and there was a narrow skybridge between the two buildings, connecting at the forty-second floor. The glass roof of the skybridge had a layer of dust, and stepping on it would leave footprints, so he didn't use the bridge. He jumped directly from the windowsill of the forty-first floor of the main building to the windowsill of the forty-first floor of the North Wing, a span of nine meters, landing silently.
The elevator in the North Wing required an access card, which he couldn't use. The fire escape door, however, was open—kept open physically; the lock had been wrapped with tape, preventing the latch from springing back.
Lu Ren noticed that the color of the tape on the lock was army green, not the black or gray typically used by Vought International.
Someone had paved the way for him.
He didn't think too much about it and pushed the door open. There were no lights in the fire escape. A small arc of electricity lit up his fingertips, and he walked down by the faint light. The stairs were narrow and made of metal, making a low sound when stepped on. He kept his footsteps very light, almost tiptoeing down the stairs.
The tenth floor.
The door to the fire escape was marked "B10" in red spray paint, the writing somewhat faded, looking like it had been there for years. There was no dust on the doorknob—someone came and went frequently.
He pushed the door open.
The corridor was long, the lighting ghastly white, with a fluorescent light every three meters, illuminating the entire corridor like an operating room. The floor tiles were white, and there was nothing on the walls—no windows, no fire hydrants, no signs of any kind. The air was cold, like the crisper drawer of a refrigerator.
Lu Ren walked about forty steps and saw a metal door.
It wasn't an ordinary door. This door was a palm thick, with no gaps on the surface, not even a doorknob, only a numeric keypad embedded in the wall. The light above the keypad was green, indicating it was powered on.
He tried pressing his ear against the door to listen. There was no sound at all.
Abigail's voice suddenly appeared in his mind: "Behind the door is a corridor. At the end of the corridor is the second door. Behind that door is my cage."
"How do I open the first door?" Lu Ren asked in a low voice.
"The keypad password is 19820312," Abigail said. "Vought International never changes their passwords. It's their tradition."
Lu Ren pressed the numbers: 19820312. March 12, 1982—the day Abigail was injected with compound v.
The door emitted a low hum and then slowly opened.
The corridor behind the door was narrower than the previous one, only wide enough for one person to pass through. The walls weren't white, but gray—not paint, but exposed concrete. There were no lights on the ceiling, but every few steps, there was an emergency light embedded in the wall, emitting a dim, fading light.
There was an additional smell in the air. Rust, dampness, and a scent similar to hospital disinfectant.
The second door appeared at the end of the corridor.
This door was different.
It wasn't metal. It was made of some kind of black, translucent material, looking like plastic yet also like glass, with a surface so smooth it could reflect a person's silhouette. There was no keypad, no handle, and no obvious way to open it.
"What is this?" Lu Ren asked.
"Polycarbonate composite armor," Abigail's voice was very calm. "It can withstand a direct hit from a rocket. Your lightning should be able to split it open. But be careful—"
"Careful of what?"
"The space behind the door is sealed. When you split the door open, the air pressure will change suddenly. I haven't left that room in forty years; my body... is no longer well-adapted to the outside environment."
Lu Ren placed his hand on the door. The door was cool, but not the icy chill of metal; it was a tepid cold, like the skin of a dead person.
He stepped back two paces and raised his right hand.
Silvery-white electric arcs condensed on his palm, growing from a small ball into a large sphere. The lightning illuminated the entire corridor, turning the gray concrete walls into broad daylight.
He didn't hesitate.
Boom—!
A pillar of thunder shot from his palm, striking the black door. The door shuddered violently at first, then cracks began to appear from the center, spreading outward like a spiderweb. The edges of the cracks turned red, like molten glass.
Chapter 12: You Are Not Human
The second strike.
The door shattered. It didn't explode; it broke into countless fingernail-sized fragments that clattered to the floor, revealing the space behind it.
A gust of air rushed out from the doorway, carrying the heavy, stale scent of air trapped for decades—musty, sour, and the body odor that comes from long-term lack of ventilation. Lu Ren choked slightly and took a step back.
The room was dark.
He walked inside, and the light from his electric arcs illuminated the entire room.
It was small. About twelve square meters. A bed, a table, and a chair. The bed was a metal frame with yellowed sheets. There was nothing on the table. In the corner was a tiny bathroom, separated by a shower curtain. There were no windows, only a ventilation duct about twenty centimeters in diameter in the corner of the ceiling.
Abigail was sitting on the bed.
She was wearing that old uniform, her graying short hair a bit messy, but her face lacked the madness or exhaustion Lu Ren had expected. Her expression was calm—so calm that she didn't look like someone who had been imprisoned for forty years.
"You've come," she said.
"I'm here."
Abigail stood up. Her legs were a bit weak, and she had to steady herself against the bed frame before she could stand firmly.
"For forty years," she said, "you are the first person to walk through this door. The people delivering food never came in; they used a conveyor belt."
Lu Ren glanced at the ventilation duct in the corner—that was likely where the conveyor belt was.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
"Give me a minute."
Abigail took a few steps around the room, as if relearning how to use her legs. Her pace was slow, but steady.
"I need you to do me a favor," she said.
"What?"
"Don't tell anyone about me. Especially not Butcher."
Lu Ren frowned slightly: "You know Butcher?"
"I know everyone," Abigail said, looking up at him with her gray eyes. "I know you've met him and worked with him, but you don't trust him. Your intuition is correct. Butcher is a man consumed by hatred; he doesn't care about the life or death of any Supes, including you."
"And what about you? Do you care?"
Abigail didn't answer the question. She walked up to Lu Ren and reached out her hand.
"Take me out of here."
Lu Ren took her hand. Her hand was ice-cold and dry, her knuckles prominent, like a delicate skeleton.
They walked out of the room and headed back along the corridor. Abigail's steps became increasingly steady, and her breathing grew smoother. When they reached the first metal door, she stopped and looked back at the gray corridor.
"I never thought I'd see it again," she said.
"Let's go."
They walked into the fire escape.
The lights on the stairs suddenly went out.
It wasn't that the bulbs had broken—all the lights had gone out simultaneously, and even the electric arcs at Lu Ren's fingertips flickered in response.
Someone was interfering with the electromagnetic field.
In the darkness, a sound came from upstairs.
It wasn't footsteps, but a light, rhythmic metallic tapping. It sounded like someone tapping their fingers against the railing.
Abigail gripped Lu Ren's hand tightly.
"He's here," she said.
"Who?"
"The Warden," Abigail said, her voice very low. "He has no name. Vought International calls him 'The Cleaner.' His ability is—"
"Electromagnetic field manipulation," a raspy voice came from the darkness, "just like you."
Lu Ren's electric arcs flared up again, illuminating the stairwell landing above.
A person was standing there.
He was tall, at least two meters, wearing a black uniform and a full-coverage respirator mask that hid all his skin. The eye pieces of the mask were two deep red lenses, reflecting a dark red glow under the light of the electric arcs.
Hanging at his waist was a short baton, black and made of a material that looked like rubber.
"Abigail," The Cleaner's voice came from behind the mask, like sandpaper rubbing against metal, "you cannot leave."
"I've had enough," Abigail said. "Forty years, I've had enough."
"You have no choice. This is Vought International's decision."
"Vought International's decision?" Abigail's voice suddenly turned sharp. "They decided to turn me into a monster, then they decided to lock me up, and now you're telling me they've decided I can't leave?"
The Cleaner didn't respond. He drew the baton from his waist and pressed a button; one end of the baton lit up with blue light—not electric arcs, but some form of concentrated energy.
"I am ordered to guard you. If you step out of this building, I will execute a forced retrieval."
"You can try," Lu Ren said, stepping in front of Abigail.
The Cleaner tilted his head and glanced at Lu Ren.
"Silver Lightning," he said. "You are not on the mission list. If you leave now, I will not report this."
"Report it to whom?"
"My superiors."
Lu Ren clenched his fists. Electric arcs crackled between his fingers.
"Move aside," he said.
The Cleaner did not move aside.
He raised the baton, the blue energy condensing into a small sphere at the tip, and then he lashed it toward Lu Ren.
Lu Ren dodged to the side. The energy sphere slammed into the wall behind him, blasting a basin-sized crater and sending concrete fragments flying.
The Cleaner moved very quickly. Almost the same instant Lu Ren dodged, he rushed in front of him, sweeping the baton across and aiming for Lu Ren's ribs.
Lu Ren didn't dodge.
The baton struck him with a dull thud. The blue energy exploded against his skin but left only a shallow white mark.
The Cleaner paused for a moment—presumably in surprise.
Lu Ren seized that moment and punched The Cleaner in the chest.
The strength granted by the Superman Serum made this punch hit like a truck. The Cleaner flew backward, smashing through the wall of the fire escape and crashing onto the landing of the stairwell.
He stood up quickly.
The speed was unnaturally fast.
Lu Ren looked down at his own fist—there were a few tiny cracks on his knuckles. It wasn't that he had cracked, but that he had cracked The Cleaner's uniform, revealing what was underneath.
It wasn't skin. It was a gray, smooth, metal-like material.
"You are not human," Lu Ren said.
Chapter 13: Abigail
The Cleaner did not answer. He holstered his baton, then pulled something from his pocket—a small, circular device with a red button on it.
Abigail's expression changed: "Don't—"
The Cleaner pressed the button.
The alarm for the entire building sounded.
It wasn't a normal fire alarm; it was a low, deafening hum, like the roar of some giant beast. The lights in the hallway turned red, and every door locked simultaneously.
"Emergency lockdown protocol." Abigail's voice trembled. "All exits will seal within thirty seconds. We'll be trapped here."
Lu Ren did not hesitate any longer.
He grabbed Abigail's arm, his entire body turning into a bolt of Silver Lightning as he rushed up the fire escape. The lightning tore through locked doors, concrete walls, and every obstacle in their path on every floor.
Twentieth floor. Fifteenth floor. Tenth floor. Fifth floor.
He burst out of the North Wing's ground floor entrance, landing with Abigail in the plaza of Vought Tower.
The night sky was clear, and the stars were visible.
Abigail knelt on the ground, gasping for the outside air. Tears welled up in her eyes—not from sadness, but because the wind, felt for the first time in forty years, stung her eyes.
"This is…" she said, "what the outside smells like."
Lu Ren looked back at Vought Tower.
The lights of the North Wing had all turned red, looking like a giant thermometer.
The Cleaner stood behind the shattered glass doors of the ground floor, his red lenses staring at them in the darkness. He did not pursue them.
Abigail stood up and wiped her eyes.
"He won't follow," she said. "His jurisdiction is only within that building. Once we're out of the North Wing, he doesn't care."
"Who exactly is he?"
"A replica." Abigail looked toward the North Wing. "Something created by Vought International using compound v. No human emotions, no memories, only a mission. They made many, but most were broken. He is the only one still functioning."
"A replica of whom?"
Abigail was silent for a few seconds.
"A hero they wanted to replicate," she said. "A soldier who wouldn't speak, wouldn't betray, and would never age."
"Black Noir?" Lu Ren blurted out.
Abigail glanced at him but didn't speak.
The alarm continued to hum inside the North Wing annex, but no one came chasing out of the building.
In the distance of the plaza, several black SUVs were speeding toward them. Vought International's security team had arrived.
"Let's go." Lu Ren grabbed Abigail.
The Silver Lightning streaked across the Manhattan night sky once more, disappearing in the direction of Brooklyn.
---
8:23 PM.
Brooklyn, the same abandoned warehouse.
Lu Ren had Abigail sit on the only chair in the corner of the warehouse that hadn't collapsed, then rummaged through the corner to find an old blanket and draped it over her shoulders.
"Are you warm?"
"Yes," Abigail said, wrapping the blanket tighter around herself. "Thank you."
"Stay here for now. Don't go out, and don't use your abilities—at least until I figure out how to arrange things for you, don't let anyone know you're still alive."
"Okay."
Just as Lu Ren was about to turn and leave, Abigail called out to him.
"Lu Ren."
"Yeah?"
"Vought International will find out soon that you released me." Abigail's expression was serious. "They'll check the surveillance, they'll ask The Cleaner, and they'll know it was you. How do you plan to explain it?"
"I don't need to explain," Lu Ren said. "I just need to make them think I'm still useful."
Abigail looked at him for a few seconds, then nodded.
"You're very special," she said. "Your brain… it's different from anyone else's I've ever seen. It's not just having a protective film. There's something in your brain—not memories, not thoughts, but a kind of… structure. Like a building, but not one any architect could design."
Lu Ren did not answer this question.
He walked out of the warehouse and used lightning to weld a simple latch onto the door—not to keep others out, but to prevent Abigail from unconsciously using her abilities to affect passersby.
Then he jumped onto the roof of the warehouse and sat down.
The Manhattan skyline flickered in the distance, and the North Wing of Vought Tower had returned to its normal lighting. The red alarm lights were off.
His phone buzzed.
A message from Starlight: "Where are you? Was that you who triggered the alarm in the North Wing?"
Lu Ren typed two words in reply: "It was."
A few seconds later, Starlight sent another message: "Homelander is back early. He's looking for you."
Lu Ren tucked his phone back into his pocket.
He looked up at the sky—a helicopter was flying in from the direction of Manhattan, its searchlight sweeping back and forth across the ground.
Vought International had dispatched a helicopter.
"They're quick," he muttered, standing up.
Silver Lightning erupted from within him, carving a bright arc in the night sky as he flew toward Manhattan.
Behind him, through a crack in the warehouse door, a grey eye watched the direction where the lightning had vanished.
Abigail curled up in the blanket and slowly closed her eyes.
For the first time in forty years, she felt quiet.
Not because no one was talking.
It was because she could finally actively turn off those voices.
---
Lu Ren did not return directly to Vought Tower.
He circled widely over Manhattan, first landing on the roof of an office building on Wall Street, waiting five minutes, then jumping to a container crane at South Street Seaport, waiting another five minutes. The helicopter's searchlight swept over him twice, missing him by inches each time. On the third pass, the helicopter turned around and flew back toward Vought Tower.
Only then did he land back on the roof of Vought Tower.
Not at the main entrance, but on the roof. A white private helicopter was parked on the helipad, its rotors still slowing down. The logo on the fuselage was not Vought International's, but an emblem he didn't recognize—an eagle clutching three lightning bolts.
Someone had just arrived on this aircraft.
Lu Ren went downstairs via the fire escape. The hallway on the forty-sixth floor was quiet, the lights were on, but there was no one around. He paused as he passed Starlight's room; there was light beneath the door crack, but no sound inside.
His room door was ajar.
He pushed the door open and saw Homelander sitting on his sofa.
Homelander had changed his clothes; he wasn't wearing his hero uniform, but a dark grey turtleneck sweater and black trousers. He sat with his legs crossed, holding a mug that said "World's Best Dad"—he didn't know if Homelander had chosen it deliberately or just grabbed it at random.
"Where have you been?" Homelander asked, his tone like a roommate asking about someone coming home late.
Lu Ren closed the door and tossed his keys on the table. "Went out for some air."
"Air." Homelander repeated the word, as if savoring its meaning. "Do you know the alarm in the North Wing went off? Everyone in the building was woken up. Ashley fell out of bed and scraped her knee. The Deep hid in the bathtub to call his wife. A-Train ran for three miles, couldn't stop, and crashed through two walls."
"Sounds chaotic."
"It is chaotic," Homelander took a sip of whatever was in his cup. "But guess what? No one knows who triggered the alarm. The surveillance failed during that time, and all access logs are blank. The Cleaner said he didn't see anything."
He put down the cup, stood up, and walked over to Lu Ren.
"Do you know who 'The Cleaner' is?"
"No."
"He is one of Vought International's oldest employees," Homelander's voice was very soft. "He's been here longer than I have. He never leaves the North Wing, never speaks—at least not to others. He only follows one person's orders. Not Stan Edgar, not the board, but someone else."
"Who?"
Homelander tilted his head, seemingly considering whether to say it.
"Someone who has been dead for a long time," he finally said. "But Vought International still keeps his voice. A recording. A looping audio command. The Cleaner obeys when he hears that voice, just like a… have you seen those robots that follow sound? It's the same principle."
Lu Ren didn't speak. He was waiting for Homelander to state his real purpose.
"Do you know what I hate the most?" Homelandersuddenly changed the subject.
"What?"
"Being used." Homelander smiled, but there was no warmth in it. "I hate being used as a pawn. Today, Edgarhad me come back early from Philadelphia, saying there was an emergency in the North Wing and he needed me to handle it. Halfway through the flight, he said never mind, the situation was resolved. I flew back from Philadelphia, it took forty minutes, and I didn't do anything on the way, just sat on the plane watching clouds."
He walked to the window, his back to Lu Ren.
"Forty minutes. I could have done so many things. I could have saved people, given speeches, filmed commercials. But I wasted forty minutes because someone told me there was an emergency, and it turned out that emergency was 'resolved' before I even got there."
Chapter 14: The Cleaner
He turned around, his blue eyes completely expressionless.
"Who do you think is using me?"
Lu Ren knew this question wasn't really meant for him.
"I don't know," he said.
"I don't know either," Homelander shrugged, "but I'll find out. And once I do, I'll have a talk with them. Just like we're doing now."
He walked toward the door.
As he passed Lu Ren, he stopped and leaned in a bit closer.
"Starlight asked me to pass along a message to you," he lowered his voice, as if sharing a secret. "She said she was worried about you. I think she's quite lovely, don't you? That kind of... innocence that hasn't been ruined by this world yet."
He patted Lu Ren on the shoulder, much lighter than before—almost gently.
"Get some rest, rookie."
He left.
The sound of the door closing was very soft, like a feather landing on the floor.
Lu Ren stood in the empty room, realizing the back of his shirt was soaked with sweat.
He checked the time. 9:07 PM.
It had been less than an hour since Abigail was released.
Homelander didn't know he did it. At least, there was no evidence. But his words—about 'being used' and 'having a talk with them'—were clearly a warning.
Or maybe not a warning, but a test.
Lu Ren took off his jacket and threw it onto the bed. There was a scorch mark on the cuff, left by The Cleaner's baton. He folded the jacket and stuffed it into the deepest part of the wardrobe, then walked into the bathroom, turned the water temperature to the coldest setting, and stood there for a full five minutes.
His phone buzzed in the bedroom.
He dried himself, walked out, and saw an unfamiliar number on the screen.
"Hello?"
"It's me," Butcher's voice sounded more rushed than usual. "The plan has been moved up. Tomorrow night has been changed to 3:00 AM tomorrow morning."
"Why?"
"Vogelbaum is running. We saw him packing files on the lab's surveillance. He's moving everything—data, samples, the stones, all of it."
"Where are we meeting at 3:00 AM?"
"The docks. The usual spot." Butcher paused. "What happened on your end? I heard the alarm at Vought Towergo off."
"Nothing big."
"Don't give me that bullshit. 'Nothing big' wouldn't make Homelander rush back early from Philadelphia."
Lu Ren fell silent for two seconds.
"I released someone," he said. "Vought had her locked up for forty years. I let her out."
The other end of the line went quiet for a moment.
"Who?" Butcher's voice changed—not with anger, but with a cautious, suppressed curiosity.
"A Supe. Telepathic. Her ability is electromagnetic field manipulation, and she can hear people's thoughts."
"You mean you let a mind-reading monster loose?" Butcher's volume spiked. "Are you fucking insane? Where is that thing now?"
"In a safe place."
"No place is safe, especially for a mind reader," Butchertook a deep breath. "The day after tomorrow—no, tomorrow morning's plan is still on. But before that, you need to take care of that thing."
"What do you mean by 'take care of'?"
"You know exactly what I mean," Butcher hung up.
Lu Ren threw his phone onto the bed and lay down.
The light on the ceiling started flickering again. It wasn't Abigail—she had already been released and didn't need to contact him this way anymore. Was it The Cleaner? Or something else?
His phone buzzed again.
This time it was a text message from Starlight's number.
"What else did he say?"
"Who?"
"Homelander. I saw him coming out of your room."
Lu Ren typed: "He said you were cute."
A few seconds later, Starlight replied with an ellipsis.
Then another message came: "I'm glad you're okay. There's training tomorrow at nine, don't be late."
"What training?"
"Rookie training. The Deep and I will be guiding you. A-Train was supposed to come too, but he blew out his knee and took some time off."
Lu Ren imagined the scene of training with The Deep tomorrow and didn't find it very pleasant.
"Goodnight," he replied.
Starlight didn't reply.
1:00 AM.
Lu Ren didn't sleep. He sat by the window, looking out at the Manhattan nightscape, turning a few things over in his mind.
First, Abigail. She couldn't stay in the warehouse forever; Butcher would look for her. He needed to find her a safer place—or a way for her to protect herself. Her abilities were powerful, but she had been trapped for forty years, and both her body and mind needed time to recover.
Second, The Cleaner. Homelander said he was the 'oldest employee,' taking orders from only one person, and that person 'has been dead for a long time.' Who died? Soldier Boy? Or someone else? The Cleaner was a clone of Black Noir—Abigail had said they 'cloned a hero who couldn't speak.' Black Noir couldn't speak. So was The Cleaner a clone of Black Noir? Or was Black Noir himself a clone?
Third, Vogelbaum was running. The 3:00 AM operation tomorrow morning couldn't be missed. It was his first real mission since he started working with Butcher. If he messed it up, Butcher's trust would be gone.
Fourth, Neuman. That woman hadn't appeared again since she met him on the day of the press conference. What was she waiting for? Congress was recently discussing a new Supe Regulation Bill, and Neuman was one of its main proponents. Once the bill passed, all Supes would have to register with the government and undergo background checks. This wouldn't just restrict Homelander; it would restrict Lu Ren as well.
Fifth, Starlight. Her attitude toward him had shifted from hostility to concern, a change that came faster than he had expected. Perhaps it was loneliness—in The Seven, she was the only one without any real allies. Maeve had her own secrets, The Deep was an asshole, A-Train only cared about himself, Translucent didn't exist, Black Noir didn't speak, and Homelander was a ticking time bomb. Lu Ren's arrival, no matter how abrupt, at least gave her someone to talk to.
In the distance, along the Manhattan skyline, an airplane was landing. The lights on its wings blinked, looking like a slowly moving star.
Lu Ren closed his eyes and sat by the window all night.
2:45 AM.
At the abandoned docks of Staten Island, the wind was strong, blowing from the water with a salty, fishy smell.
Butcher had already arrived. Today, he wore a black bulletproof vest, with a pistol and two flashbangs strapped to his waist. MM stood beside him, holding a tablet that displayed the schematics of the underground lab in Hells Kitchen. Kimiko squatted at the edge of the dock, assembling a disassembled sniper rifle resting on her knees.
Frenchie wasn't there. According to Butcher, he was handling 'logistics'—which meant driving.
"You're early," Butcher didn't show any surprise when he saw Lu Ren descend from the sky.
"Couldn't sleep."
"Nervous?"
"Not nervous," Lu Ren stood beside Butcher, looking out at the water. "I was thinking about something."
"What's that?"
"If I help you catch Vogelbaum, what do you plan to do with him?"
Butcher tilted his head and glanced at him.
"What are you getting at?"
"I'm saying he's the only one who knows the complete formula for compound v. If you kill him, that formula will remain in Vought's hands forever."
"You mean I should keep him alive and force him to hand over the formula?"
"I mean," Lu Ren said, "Vogelbaum's value isn't in his life, but in what he knows. You can use him to trade for anything you want—Vought's secrets, an antidote to compound v, or even a weapon against Homelander."
Butcher fell silent for a moment. The wind rustled loudly against his leather jacket.
"You make a fair point," he finally said. "But that doesn't mean I'll listen to you. We'll talk after I catch him."
MM walked over and handed the tablet to Lu Ren.
"The lab's entrance is under an old warehouse between Ninth and Tenth Avenue." He traced a route on the map with his finger. "There are six armed guards in the warehouse, all retired special forces hired by Vought. Their weapons are specially made—they can pierce a Supe's skin. Be careful."
"What kind of bullet can pierce a Supe's skin?"
"It's not bullets," MM said. "It's some kind of energy weapon. We got a sample and analyzed it, but we couldn't figure out how it works. All we know is that its energy source is a green stone—the kryptonite you mentioned."
Lu Ren frowned.
Vought had already mastered the technology to convert kryptonite energy into weapons.
This meant that if he wasn't careful enough, he could be hurt by that weapon too.
"I'll handle clearing out the guards," Lu Ren said. "You guys find Vogelbaum. Once you have him, retreat immediately. Don't get bogged down."
"It's a deal then." Butcher checked his pistol's magazine and slid it back into his waistband.
Kimiko stood up, her sniper rifle fully assembled and slung over her shoulder.
"Let's go," Butcher said.
The four of them walked toward the black SUV parked outside the docks, disappearing into the night.
3:08 AM.
Hells Kitchen.
The exterior of the old warehouse looked completely normal—brick walls covered in ivy, boarded-up windows, and a few trash bags piled by the entrance. If not for MM's schematics, no one would have guessed that one of Vought's most secret labs lay beneath it.
Lu Ren scanned the entire building using his electromagnetic field perception.
Six people. All of them on the first basement level, spread out across the four corners of the lab. Two were standing together, while the other four were scattered. There were no human vital signs on the second basement level, but there were some weak electromagnetic signals—machinery, or perhaps those biological cell samples.
"I'll go in first," Lu Ren said.
He transformed into a faint electric arc and slipped into the warehouse's ventilation shaft. The shaft was very narrow, and he passed through almost in molecular form—one of the abilities of the Rumble-Rumble Fruit, converting his body into pure electricity to pass through any conductive gap.
He reassembled into human form at the basement's air vent.
Two guards were just ten meters away, with their backs to him.
Chapter 15: Soldier Boy Billboard
Lu Ren made no sound. With two fingers, two faint arcs of electricity precisely struck the back of the two guards' necks. They collapsed silently.
Four left.
He took them out one by one without alerting anyone.
The entire process took less than thirty seconds.
The laboratory door was locked from the inside, but he didn't need the door. He used lightning to melt through the steel bars in the wall, creating an opening large enough for one person to pass through.
Butcher, MM, and Kimiko crawled through the hole.
The laboratory was larger than Lu Ren had expected. The space of over two hundred square meters was divided into several areas: an office area, an experimental area, and a sample storage area. The tables in the experimental area were covered with test tubes and petri dishes, and the air was filled with a pungent chemical odor. The sample storage area consisted of a row of transparent refrigerated cabinets containing liquids of various colors—most were purple, which was compound v.
But Lu Ren's gaze was drawn to a row of glass containers in the corner.
Green stones.
A dozen or so pieces of various sizes were stored separately in sealed glass containers, each connected to a counter with numbers flickering on the screen—radiation levels.
"So many," MM whispered. "They're displaying these stones like collectibles."
"Where is Dr. Vogelbaum?" Butcher looked around.
"There." Lu Ren pointed to a closed door in the office area.
The material of that door was exactly the same as the door on the tenth floor of the North Wing—black polycarbonate composite armor.
Dr. Vogelbaum was inside.
He had heard the commotion outside.
"Who are you?" An old voice came from behind the door, trembling noticeably. "I warn you, this door can withstand any attack. You can't get in."
Lu Ren walked up to the door and placed his hand on it.
"Open the door," he said. "I don't want to blow the door apart, but if you don't open it, I will."
There was silence behind the door for a few seconds.
"Are you… Silver Lightning?" Dr. Vogelbaum's voice changed—from fear to something approaching curiosity. "Why are you working with an anti-Supes organization? You have a promising future at Vought International. Why would you destroy it?"
"Open the door," Lu Ren repeated.
The door opened.
Dr. Vogelbaum stood behind the door. He looked older than he did in the surveillance footage; his hair was completely white, his back was severely hunched, and he was wearing an old, yellowed white lab coat. His eyes were very bright, unnaturally so—a sickly brightness characteristic of someone who hasn't seen sunlight for a long time.
"Butcher." Dr. Vogelbaum glanced at Butcher, then looked at Lu Ren. "You hand me over to this man, and he will definitely kill me. You know that."
"I know," Lu Ren said. "But he promised me he would listen to you first."
Butcher walked over, grabbed Dr. Vogelbaum by the collar, and slammed him against the wall.
"Where is the complete formula for compound v?"
"In my head." Dr. Vogelbaum's voice was calm, even carrying a hint of a smile. "If you kill me, the formula is gone."
"Then I can make you wish you were dead."
"You won't." Dr. Vogelbaum looked into Butcher's eyes. "You're a smart man, Butcher. You know that killing me does you no good. You need me. You need my knowledge, my research, my—"
Butcher punched him in the face.
Dr. Vogelbaum's nose was crooked, and blood flowed out, but he smiled.
"Good." He licked the blood on his lips with his tongue. "Good. You hit me, which means you care. People who don't care don't hit others; they just kill."
Kimiko walked over and struck the back of Dr. Vogelbaum's head with the butt of her gun. He passed out.
"Too much talk," Kimiko said.
Butcher let go, letting Dr. Vogelbaum slide to the floor.
"Load him into the car." He turned to Lu Ren. "Can you take those green stones?"
"Yes."
Lu Ren walked to the glass containers, opened them one by one, and took out the stones. The stones were very cold, so cold that holding them felt like holding a piece of ice. He could feel his power being weakened—not disappearing, but that feeling like a battery running out of power, with the energy in his body slowly draining away.
He packed all the stones into a metal case—there happened to be one in the lab that Dr. Vogelbaum used to transport samples—and then carried the case out of the laboratory.
Butcher had already carried Dr. Vogelbaum into the SUV. MM started the engine from the driver's seat.
Lu Ren put the case in the trunk and hopped into the back seat.
"Where to?" MM asked.
"The warehouse," Butcher said. "Lock him up first. We'll interrogate him tomorrow."
The SUV drove out of the alleyways of Hells Kitchen and merged into the empty streets of Manhattan in the early hours of the morning.
Lu Ren leaned back in his seat, watching the streetlights fly by outside the window.
His phone buzzed in his pocket.
He took it out and glanced at it.
A message from Starlight: "No one is in your room. Where did you go?"
He didn't reply.
Outside the window, a huge billboard swept overhead. The billboard featured Soldier Boy's face—black and white, faded, an old advertisement from who knows what year. It read: "Remember your hero."
Lu Ren stared at the face for a few seconds until the billboard disappeared from sight.
Soldier Boy.
Homelander's father.
A man betrayed by Vought International and imprisoned by the Russians for decades.
How similar to Abigail, who had been locked away for forty years.
How many more secrets are buried beneath this city?
The SUV drove through the streets of Brooklyn, and no one in the car spoke.
MM drove steadily, at a moderate speed, like an ordinary late-night taxi. Kimiko sat in the passenger seat with her sniper rifle across her lap, muzzle pointed down. Butcherand Lu Ren sat in the back, with Dr. Vogelbaum lying horizontally at their feet, his hands and feet bound with zip ties, his head resting on Butcher's boots.
"Move him," Butcher kicked Dr. Vogelbaum's head. "My foot is falling asleep."
Lu Ren bent down and dragged Dr. Vogelbaum to the side, letting him lean against the car door. The old man's nose had stopped bleeding, but his face was smeared with a patch of dark red blood, his breathing was heavy, and his throat made a sound similar to snoring.
"You didn't go easy on him," Lu Ren said.
"He owes me," Butcher looked out the window. "Do you know how many people compound v has killed? My wife—Becca—when she was raped by Homelander, if she didn't have V in her system, she wouldn't have given birth to that little monster. If there wasn't that little monster, she wouldn't have—"
He didn't finish the sentence.
Lu Ren didn't respond. He knew more about Becca than Butcher thought. But some topics are not for discussion; they are for silence.
The car stopped at the entrance of the warehouse.
It wasn't the abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn, but another place—Queens, a building that looked like an abandoned factory. The outer walls were covered in graffiti, the windows were welded shut with steel plates, and the main entrance was a rolling door that was heavily rusted.
"This is our new base," Butcher jumped out of the car and pulled up the rolling door. "The previous fried chicken shop was spotted by people from Vought International. A bald man would sit in the cafe across the street at 3:00 PM every day, pretending to read a newspaper."
"How do you know it was Vought International?"
"Because he read the same newspaper for three days," Butcher sneered. "On the third day he turned the page, but the date on that page was yesterday's. The detectives hired by Vought International don't even have any professional ethics."
The inside of the warehouse was larger than it looked from the outside. The space was divided into several areas—a simple kitchen, a few small beds, and a long table covered with computer monitors, radio equipment, and weapons. A few ammunition boxes were piled in the corner, and a huge map of Manhattan was pinned to the wall, with various locations marked with different colored thumbtacks.
MM dragged Dr. Vogelbaum to an iron chair and secured him with more zip ties. Kimiko opened the metal case, took the stones out one by one, and placed them on the long table. The green glow looked particularly glaring in the dim warehouse, like a dozen small green lights.
"What exactly are these stones?" Butcher picked one up and examined it, turning it over and over.
"A type of mineral," Lu Ren said. "Not from Earth. It causes energy decay in my—in Kryptonian bodies. As for other Supes? I'm not sure."
"Then how do you know it works on your own kind?"
The word "own kind" made Lu Ren frown, but he didn't correct him.
"Because I've tried it," he said. "At Vought Tower, when I was close to these stones, my power would weaken."
Butcher put the stone back on the table and clapped his hands.
"Wake him up."
Kimiko fetched a bucket of cold water and splashed it on Dr. Vogelbaum's face.
The old man woke up with a start, coughing violently as water choked out of his nostrils. He blinked, took in his surroundings, and then began to laugh.
It wasn't a loud laugh, but a very light, continuous, wheezing sound like air leaking.
"What are you laughing at?" Butcher crouched down and looked him in the eye.
"I'm laughing at you," Dr. Vogelbaum said. "You went to such great lengths to capture me, yet you don't know that I'm dying."
Butcher's expression didn't change.
"What do you mean?"
"Pancreatic cancer." Dr. Vogelbaum lowered his head and glanced at his bound hands. "Stage four. I have about… two months left. Maybe three. The doctor said if I had the best medical conditions, I might last half a year. But now that I'm in this dump of a warehouse, it's probably two months."
Butcher glanced at MM. MM picked up a tablet, tapped on it quickly, and then nodded.