American comics: From Hogwarts to God on Earth

Chapter 324 Butcher Butcher

Chapter 324 Butcher Butcher

"It's Joseph."

One woman said this, and amidst the pattering rain, her distinctive voice still pierced through the rain curtain and reached the ears of those around her.

A man paused for a moment, pen in hand, and looked at the woman: "Are you sure?"

"You should know my abilities, Butcher?" the woman asked.

Butcher knew, of course, that the woman's name was Emily, and that she possessed a superpower called death replay, which allowed her to see the last things the deceased saw by looking directly into their eyes. While Homelander's Super Boys selected superpowered individuals from Execution Day, not all Super Boys members were chosen from that day. Those with special superpowers but no combat abilities were naturally vetted by a special department.

Guess where the remaining departments went after the demise of those congressmen who nominally ruled the United States?

"There might be superhumans who can change their appearance," Emily interrupted Butcher, "but Joseph is still the prime suspect." She didn't particularly like this man, but he was nominally a police officer. Butcher, who had only recently joined the police force, seemed to harbor a unique malice towards superhumans. He never hesitated to speculate about Emily's superhuman companions, or even Emily herself, with the most vile malice.

Butcher nodded, a cigarette dangling from his lips, almost reduced to a butt but still unwilling to throw it away, before kicking aside a broken metal support.

"Anyway, these bastards—superpowered individuals—died very artistically." Butcher crouched down and poked the Indian man's corpse with his finger. "Look, he looks just like an ouroboros."

Emily looked at the corpses with a complex expression. If the issue of the painting materials were disregarded, the deaths of these corpses were indeed quite artistic. The two women had been neatly cut into pieces and then glued back together; the Indian man's body was curled up, his mouth gaping open in a distorted shape, as if he had eaten his own lower body—

So now only Emily and Butcher are left at the scene—everyone else ran outside to vomit, they didn't even have the courage to look at it a second time.

The top floor of the Water Tower.

The homelander still wore a smile, while photos of the corpses lay scattered on the table behind him. His voice was so soft it was chilling.

"You mean, a fat bastard weighing three hundred pounds killed six of my warriors?"

The man in front of him swallowed hard, wiping sweat from his brow. "Our initial suspicion is Joseph, but there are too many suspicious points at the scene. We—"

"Then investigate!" Homelander's eyes widened as he stared intently at the police chief he had personally appointed. "Now! Immediately! Get out!"

"yes!"

After the bureau chief managed to curl up his obese body and shakily roll out, Zu Guoren burst out laughing—the way he rolled was truly comical.

But a voice shattered the good mood of the people of the motherland.

"If the information you provided is accurate, then this criminal could not possibly be Joseph."

Homelander glanced at the communicator, his smile vanishing instantly. He disliked this guy who always acted superior to him; perhaps he should find a chance to disappear.

The murderous intent on his face was palpable.

"You should know that I can 'see' you, right?" The other person still spoke in that indifferent and cold tone, as if Homelander was not the most admired and powerful superhero in the world, but an ordinary person.

Homelander didn't speak, but his eyes, gleaming with a scarlet light, said it all.

Just then, the mutilated Terminator behind Homelander came to life.

"You know what? I really admire your acting skills."

The fact that the voice was no longer coming from the communicator, but from the Terminator, who was theoretically already finished, made Homelander's eyebrows twitch.

There wasn't just one Terminator on the top floor of Vought Tower; he had a collection of all Terminator models—including some that allowed him to unleash his full power. Homelander had always believed he had killed them, which was why he kept these Terminators as spoils of war, but he never expected, "You lied to me?"

"I lied to you?" The mechanical voice remained as calm as ever. "I cooperated with you to smash my own people, and you're saying I lied to you?"

"Then how did this dead Terminator come back to life?" Homelander roared. Before, he was simply unable to control the fate of the world, but now, the fact that the broken Terminator had come back to life made him realize that he couldn't even control his own destiny.

"Have you forgotten something?" The Terminator's bloodshot eyes stared at the hysterical Homelander: "Without me, you'd be nothing more than a dog of the Vought International. I'm the one who gave you New Hope City—"

"But this is what I got in return for voluntarily cooperating with the Terminator to kill important government officials! New Hope City is my reward!"

"But you weren't the only human who cooperated with the Terminator back then, were you? Even Train killed more than you." The Terminator continued, "And now, you're clearly not satisfied with your position anymore, and you actually want to take things that don't belong to you. Do I need to remind you? Your secret underground unit?"

The expressions on the faces of the people of the motherland froze.

"You pretend to be a hero, pretend to be omnipotent, pretend you're not a pathetic product of an experiment. I can cooperate with you to perform miracles in front of ordinary people, I can help you secure your position as the ruler of New Hope City, but if you greedily desire something that doesn't belong to you..."

The Terminator's red eyes flashed: "You will pay a price, and I hope you understand that you absolutely cannot afford it. Many people want to cooperate with me, Homelander, you are not the only option, and I have plenty of time to wait for the next—"

boom!

Homelander finally couldn't control his rage. Driven by anger, he used a blazing laser to melt the resurrected Terminator. This wasn't some Terminator made of special heat-resistant material; Homelander could have easily melted it. But after doing all that, he was panting heavily.

"Have you vented enough?" The calm voice rang out again, and Homelander turned his head sharply, revealing a fierce expression.

"Remember, what I need is a relatively stable human society. As long as you don't cause trouble, you can sit on the throne of the Wasteland King forever."

Then, the communication device was disconnected completely.

Homelander's facial muscles trembled with rage as he walked to the conference table and sat down. After a moment, he suddenly smashed his fist through the conference table.

But Homelander didn't roar; he just made a phone call to someone else.

"Come up here and get a new table." After a moment's hesitation, Homelander added, "Also, throw out those damaged Terminator loot—no, as lottery props, distribute them to the winners of the next execution day."

He abruptly hung up the phone, gritting his teeth. Damn robots, damn Terminators! How could they...?

How can you find out about the special forces you've set up underground?