Chapter 24: First Target, Translucent!
"Do you accept, or do you not?"
Leon's question hit the dead-silent warehouse like a block of ice.
Butcher's cheek muscles twitched violently. For the first time, his eyes, accustomed to controlling everything, revealed a complex glint mixed with humiliation, shock, and... a hint of excitement.
He was a man proud to his bones, a madman accustomed to giving orders. Making him take orders from someone else was more painful than killing him.
But at the same time, he was an extreme realist.
He knew better than anyone that relying solely on the three of them, plus the rookie Hughie who hadn't even joined yet, to fight against the entire Vought Internationalwas like a mantis trying to stop a chariot. The most they could do was cause some minor trouble and assassinate one or two straggling, low-tier Supes.
To truly shake The Seven, to finally stand before Homelander, they needed a force that was... unreasonable.
And the man before him was the embodiment of that force.
Snapping a steel pillar with two fingers... even Homelander would need to exert his full strength and assume a fighting stance to do something like that. Yet Leon did it as easily as breathing.
This meant that this man's power was very likely... truly on the same level as Homelander, or even...
Butcher didn't dare to think any further.
He stared fixedly at Leon's eyes, which were as calm as an abyss in the darkness, and remained silent for a full half-minute. In the warehouse, only the heavy breathing of Mother's Milk and Frenchie could be heard.
Finally, Butcher squeezed a word out from between his teeth.
"...Fine."
He roared this word from his throat, as if he had used up all his strength.
"I accept."
Mother's Milk and Frenchie exchanged a glance, both seeing helplessness and shock in the other's eyes. Although they were unhappy, Butcher had made his decision, and... after witnessing such power, they couldn't find any reason to object.
"Very good." There was not a trace of smugness on Leon's face, as if all this was only natural.
He pulled over a dusty chair and sat down on his own, crossing his legs. His posture didn't look like he was in an abandoned warehouse, but rather at a board meeting at the top of Vought Tower.
"Since the team reorganization is complete, then, the first mission."
Leon's tone instantly became cold and efficient, forcing the three who were still struggling to involuntarily focus their attention.
"Target: Translucent."
Hearing this name, Butcher was stunned for a moment.
"Translucent? That invisible pervert from The Seven?" He frowned. "Why him? Although this guy is disgusting, within The Seven, he's just a fringe character responsible for reconnaissance and infiltration; his combat power is almost zero."
"Combat power is zero, but the strategic value is very high." Leon's fingers tapped lightly on his knee. "Translucent is the most important eye inside Vought Tower. He is responsible for invisible monitoring and security for the entire building, especially the high-level offices and core members. Taking him out is equivalent to disabling the most secretive security system within Vought, which will make them blind and deaf for a long time."
More importantly, Leon added to himself, Translucent was also the most arrogant, stupid, and easiest to deal with in The Seven.
Using him as the new team's first success couldn't be more appropriate.
"Besides," Leon's mouth curled into a cold sneer, "he has been responsible for investigating me recently. That makes me very unhappy."
Butcher suddenly realized, and immediately revealed a cruel smile: "So this asshole is looking for death. Fine, he's the one! What do we need to do?"
The atmosphere instantly shifted from the previous oppression to the grim intensity before an operation.
Leon's gaze swept across the three of them in turn, and he began to issue orders. His voice was clear, concise, and without any nonsense.
"Butcher, your task is the heaviest. I need you to get all of Translucent's behavioral patterns within forty-eight hours. Not the ones arranged by Vought officially, but all of his private itinerary. When he leaves Vought Tower, where he goes to mess around, who he meets, what his routes are. I want it accurate to the minute."
Butcher nodded, a hint of confidence flashing in his eyes: "No problem, I have my channels."
Leon's gaze turned to Mother's Milk: "Mother's Milk, I need you to prepare something."
"What thing?" Mother's Milk asked in a deep voice.
"A box. An all-steel sealed box, 1.5 meters square, with insulation and soundproofing treatment on the inside. Don't ask why; you'll know when the time comes. Also, forty-eight hours."
Although full of doubts, Mother's Milk nodded: "Can do."
Finally, Leon looked at Frenchie.
"Frenchie, a vehicle. A scrap car that absolutely cannot be tracked, a van is best, with plenty of space. Strip all GPS and electronic components clean. I need to use it to transport 'cargo' during the operation."
"Piece of cake." Frenchie took a swig of alcohol and chuckled, "My warehouse is full of these 'clean' treasures."
"Very good." Leon stood up and patted the non-existent dust off his trench coat. "Forty-eight hours from now, same time, same place, I will come to hear your results. Remember, this is our team's first operation; I need one hundred percent execution."
He turned around, ready to leave.
Butcher, Mother's Milk, and Frenchie—these three "veterans" who were top experts in their respective fields—were currently like three newly enlisted recruits, clearly and thoroughly arranged by a young commander.
Just as Leon reached the warehouse door, Butcher couldn't help but shout from behind.
"Wait a minute!"
Leon stopped, but did not turn back.
"One more question." Butcher's voice was full of confusion. "We all know that asshole Translucent's ability is carbon-metamaterial skin, impervious to knives and guns, and physical attacks are almost ineffective against him. Plus, he can make himself completely invisible. Even if we can find him, how do you plan to deal with a guy you can't see, can't touch, and can't break?"
In the darkness, Leon slowly turned his head. A cold light reflected off the lenses of his gold-rimmed glasses.
He pushed up his glasses, his mouth curling into an inscrutable smile.
"Who told you I can't see him?"
Chapter 25: The Ghost of Vought Tower, Can You See Me?
"Who told you I couldn't see him?"
Leon's casual remark was like an icicle, piercing deep into the hearts of everyone in the warehouse.
Butcher, Mother's Milk, and Frenchie stood frozen in place, watching Leon's figure disappear into the darkness at the warehouse entrance, unable to utter a single word for a long moment.
It was a shock that completely shattered their cognitive foundations.
...
The next day, Vought International Building, B2 level, Archives.
The pungent smell of caffeine mixed with old paper formed the eternal backdrop of this place.
Leon sat at his workstation, his fingertips tapping on the keyboard, pulling up dull asset depreciation reports.
There was no excess emotion on his face; he was so quiet that he seemed to blend into this musty Archives.
"Hey, Leon!"
Jessica approached with a cup of coffee, her face filled with irrepressible excitement.
"Have you heard? Regarding what happened yesterday at Times Square, the company has issued its highest bounty!"
She shoved her phone screen in front of Leon, displaying a pinned post from the internal encrypted forum.
Provide valid leads, get a reward of $500,000. Identify the person, get a reward of $5 million, and an immediate promotion to Level 4 management!
"Five million! Plus Level 4 clearance! My god, the whole company has gone crazy!" Jessica's voice trembled with excitement. "Even the janitors are asking each other if they've seen any suspicious Asians!"
Leon didn't even lift an eyelid, merely giving a faint "Hmm."
"That's all you have to say? It's five million! Aren't you tempted at all?" Jessica asked, incredulous.
Leon finally stopped his work, looked up, and gazed at her through his gold-rimmed glasses. He didn't speak, just let out a very slight scoff.
The moment their eyes met, Jessica felt as if she were being stared at by some ancient predator. Her excitement froze instantly, and a cold sweat uncontrollably broke out on her back.
"Five million is indeed tempting," Leon withdrew his gaze, his voice devoid of any warmth. "Provided that the prize winner's name doesn't end up on an autopsy report."
Jessica shut up completely. She took her coffee and retreated to her seat, feeling as if that $500,000 bounty had suddenly become like a red-hot branding iron.
Leon lowered his head again, seemingly processing documents, but his perception had long since spread like invisible tentacles to every corner of the skyscraper.
Quantum Perception, activated. X-ray vision, initiated.
In an instant, the entire world was completely deconstructed within his field of vision.
Reinforced concrete became like transparent glass. The IT department on the 36th floor was frantic, trying to repair video fragments; in the medical center on the 82nd floor, a plaster-covered A-Train was howling in pain like a stray dog.
On the 99th floor, CEO Edgar's heart rate was accelerating. Homelander stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, muttering neurotically like a giant baby who couldn't get his toy.
This Tower of Babel built of capital and lies held no more secrets in Leon's eyes.
His gaze swept past the 73rd-floor women's section and fixed in place.
Several female employees were changing into casual clothes in the locker room, completely unaware that in the hallway, an invisible humanoid outline was clinging to the one-way glass like a ghost, leering voyeuristically.
Translucent.
Under Leon's X-ray vision, so-called invisibility was meaningless.
He could clearly see a naked body covered in metamaterial, heart beating rapidly, currently in a state of twisted excitement.
The system scan results appeared instantly.
B-level. Metamaterial skin, optical camouflage.
Leon shook his head as he watched. A mutation that could only deceive visible light and couldn't even protect its internal organs, with a melting point of less than 3,500 degrees.
You call this a superpower? Back home, we call this juggling.
At this moment, Madelyn Stillwell's voice came through Translucent's bone-conduction headset.
"How's the situation on the 73rd floor? Since he dared to act at Times Square, he might infiltrate internally at any time. Especially the B2 Archives; there must be no issues there."
Translucent scoffed, quite impatiently: "What could possibly be in this place besides dust and old bones nearing retirement?"
But he still took the elevator down to the B2 level.
A faint draft brushed past the entrance of the Archives.
Translucent's figure paused at the doorway, his gaze sweeping across the entire office, stopping on Leon for two seconds.
"Everything is normal in the Archives. There's a new Asian nerd here, harmless as a lamb. Madelyn Stillwell, you're overthinking it."
The report finished, and the draft floated away.
Leon kept his head down, reviewing documents, a cold, jagged smirk forming at the corner of his mouth.
A pig waiting to be slaughtered, actually pointing fingers at the Butcher?
He picked up the desk phone and dialed the extension for The Seven's lounge on the 99th floor.
"This is The Seven, who are you looking for?" A sweet female voice replied.
"I'm looking for Starlight," Leon leaned back, his tone casual. "There's an urgent onboarding document in the B2 Archives that requires her personal confirmation and signature."
Hanging up the phone, Leon adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his gaze piercing directly through the thick floor slab.
The hunting game is ready to enter the next phase.
Chapter 26: Starlight's Tears, You're Even Hypocritical When You Cry
"Have Annie January come down to B2. Tell her that The Deep's medical confirmation form requires her personal signature."
The moment the call ended, Leon's Super Hearing had already captured the commotion coming from the 99th-floor lounge.
"Starlight! You again! A call from B2, saying there's some damn confirmation form!" A sharp, shrill female voice rang out, laced with undisguised contempt. "I really don't get it, why does a newbie have so much damn business?"
"I'm sorry, I'll go right away." Annie January's slightly nervous voice followed immediately after.
A cold arc curled at the corners of Leon's mouth.
He hadn't prepared any confirmation form; it was merely a lure to pierce right into the other party's pain point. The first step to leading the prey into a trap.
Ten minutes later.
The elevator doors opened. Starlight, wearing that revealing costume that made her feel ashamed, stood awkwardly at the entrance of the Archives, looking completely out of place in the dimness.
"Excuse me... which one of you is Mr. Leon?" She was like a frightened white rabbit.
"The document is on the desk." Leon didn't even look up, flipping through the reports in his hands.
Starlight stepped forward, visibly stunned the moment she saw Leon. She hadn't expected that the person whose tone on the phone had been so unquestionable would be such a mild-mannered Asian man in a suit. This feeling was completely different from those brutal colleagues upstairs.
But when she saw the name on the document, her face instantly turned pale, and her hand shook, nearly dropping the pen to the floor.
It was just a scrap of waste paper. She signed her name with trembling hands, the sense of humiliation biting at her heart like a viper.
"It's signed..." She handed the document back as if fleeing.
Leon tossed the paper into the wastebasket. "Lunch break is almost here. The view from the rooftop is better than here; it's suitable for clearing the trash out of your head."
Starlight looked up sharply, her eyes filled with wariness and panic. Another hint? Another one of these disgusting schemes?
She didn't reply and fled.
Watching her figure disappear into the elevator, Leon felt not a ripple of emotion. When prey is frightened, it will instinctively run toward the heights it believes are safe.
A moment later, his Super Hearing locked onto that frantic heartbeat again.
Not in the lounge, but on the rooftop. Accompanying it was the sound of suppressed sobbing, restrained to the extreme.
Leon stood up, straightened his tie, and walked slowly toward the elevator.
On the rooftop of the building, the wind howled.
Annie curled up at the edge of the rooftop, burying her face deeply between her knees. There was another tear at the neckline of her costume, caused by rough pulling.
Just now upstairs, she had once again faced the foul probing and humiliation of a certain male member. Madelyn Stillwell not only didn't stop it but instead warned her not to ruin the so-called "team atmosphere."
This was The Seven she had dreamed of! A decaying cage filled with lies and lust!
She wanted to scream, wanted to fight back, but could only hide in this blind spot with no surveillance, shedding tears like a coward.
Steady footsteps rang out abruptly behind her.
Annie stiffened suddenly, hurriedly wiping away her tears, and stared intently at the newcomer like a cat with its fur standing on end.
It was that archivist! He had actually followed her up here!
Leon ignored her panic. He leaned against the cold ventilation duct, flicking open his metal lighter with a "snap," the deep blue flame illuminating his expressionless face. A wisp of blue smoke was shredded by the howling wind.
He didn't look at her, as if she weren't even on the rooftop.
This extreme indifference only made Annie's already taut nerves tremble even more.
Five minutes passed; apart from the wind, there was only Leon's silence, frozen to the extreme.
"You..." Annie finally couldn't help but speak, her voice hoarse and trembling. "Who exactly are you? How were you able to bypass the rooftop's access control?"
Leon looked at her calmly through his gold-rimmed glasses.
"Vought's security systems can't stop me from going where I want." He exhaled a puff of smoke, his tone devoid of any inflection. "As for you, no need to hide it. If you want to cry, keep going. In my eyes, you and the trash you're hiding from are essentially no different. I only came up here to smoke this cigarette."
Annie's face turned bright red instantly, humiliation and anger intertwining.
"I'm not!" she reflexively retorted, her nails digging deep into her palms.
No hypocritical sympathy, no foul probing. This man, with this almost noble indifference, tore the pitiful disguise off her body completely.
Annie's body trembled involuntarily. He hadn't even used any abilities, yet the oppression emanating from his very bones felt like an invisible mountain. In front of this man, she felt stripped bare, and the grievances she took pride in seemed incomparably ridiculous at this moment.
Fear, unprecedented fear, mixed with awe of the unknown, gripped her heart tightly.
"Do you know... what it feels like to join this place?" She had broken down, her voice bleak, like the final struggle of a drowning person.
Leon did not respond.
"It's like walking into a glittering, golden cage." Annie's voice trembled. "Only after pushing open the door do you realize that what's locked inside are all monsters in human skin."
She finally spat out the truth that was suffocating her.
Leon curled his finger, flicking the half-smoked cigarette into the wind outside the building. He brushed the non-existent dust from his suit sleeve and straightened up.
He walked to the rooftop iron door and paused for half a second.
Turning his face slightly, those eyes hidden behind the lenses, like a god who could see through the fatal weaknesses of all things, pierced down at Annie from above.
"Monsters aren't scary."
Leon's voice was bone-chilling in the wind.
"What's scary is that you are clearly in a pigsty, yet you are still shedding such hypocritical tears, vainly trying to prove to me—that you are not like them."
"You're even putting on a show for yourself when you cry."
Bang.
The iron door slammed shut.
Leaving Annie frozen at the edge of the rooftop.
The cold wind was like a knife. Her blood seemed to freeze completely at this moment, and only one echoing sound remained roaring in her mind.
Even crying is just an act...
Who on earth is he?!
Chapter 27 First Hunt Order: Target: The Invisible Man
Even when you cry, you're just putting on a performance for yourself."
This sentence was like a poison-tipped ice pick, piercing deep into Annie's heart, pinning her in the howling wind on the rooftop.
And Leon, who had spoken these words, had long since returned to that moldy Archives room on the second basement level, as if nothing had ever happened.
Time slipped away in a flash.
Forty-eight hours later, late Thursday night, Queens, 7th Avenue, at an abandoned appliance warehouse numbered 134.
"Fuck, he really came alone again."
Frenchie lowered his voice, gripping a half-empty whiskey bottle tightly, his eyes a mix of nervousness and a hint of morbid excitement.
In the shadows of the warehouse, Mother's Milk stood with his arms crossed, his massive frame like a silent iron tower, but his sharp eyes never left the figure walking slowly in from the entrance for even a second.
Leon was still wearing that expensive black trench coat, his gold-rimmed glasses reflecting a cold light in the dim moonlight.
He walked in as if he weren't entering a criminal den, but rather stepping into his own living room.
"Where's my stuff?"
He didn't waste a single word, his gaze sweeping directly to the center of the warehouse.
There, a dilapidated Ford van sat quietly, its windows caked in grime.
Beside the van was a massive steel airtight container that shimmered with a cold metallic sheen.
"The van is absolutely clean. I personally gutted all the electronic bullshit inside; even if the CIA used their satellites, they'd only find a pile of scrap metal."
Frenchie shook the whiskey bottle, his tone tinged with a hint of pride as he sought approval.
"The box is 1.5 by 1.5 meters, ten-millimeter thick steel plate, double-welded, with three layers of rubber insulation inside. Forget sound—even if you detonated a small-yield bomb inside, anyone outside would just think someone farted."
Mother's Milk's voice was deep and powerful as he walked up and patted the cold iron box.
Leon's gaze finally landed on Butcher.
Butcher jumped down from a pile of discarded televisions and tossed a crumpled piece of paper onto the table.
"Translucent, the complete movements of that scumbag."
Butcher's tone carried an irrepressible irritation; clearly, the experience of being forced to run errands for someone else over the past two days had not sat well with him.
"This guy is even more perverted than we imagined. Every Wednesday and Friday late at night, he leaves Vought Tower—no car, no electronic devices—and just walks naked and invisible for twenty-three blocks to a luxury apartment building on the west side of Central Park."
He paused, a look of disgust appearing on his face: "A female celebrity lives in that apartment building. Every time he goes, it's just to peep at her bathing and sleeping. Damn it, a bastard like that should have been shoved into a meat grinder long ago!"
Leon picked up the paper, which had a detailed route map drawn in scrawled handwriting, even marking the blind spots of every surveillance camera.
"Very good."
Leon folded the note and put it into his pocket, the entire process smooth and fluid, like a conductor about to take the stage checking his musical score.
"Location: Manhattan, West Side, the intersection of 10th Avenue and 49th Street. There's a stretch of street about two hundred meters long, with buildings slated for demolition on both sides; the surveillance cameras were smashed by homeless people a week ago. It's the perfect ambush spot."
As soon as he finished speaking, the three people in the warehouse were stunned.
Butcher abruptly lifted his head: "How do you know about that place? That road is a backup ambush point that took me an entire day to find!"
Leon didn't answer him, instead proceeding to issue orders on his own, his tone as if he were programming a group of mindless robots.
"Frenchie, you're in charge of driving. The day after tomorrow, that is, Friday at 1:00 AM, park the van at the entrance of the alley on 49th Street. Turn off all the lights and wait in the van. When you hear my signal, drive the van to the center of the street immediately."
"Mother's Milk, you and Butcher, you two are responsible for sealing off the street. At 1:10 AM, infiltrate from both ends of the street respectively, bring those useless 'anti-superhero weapons' of yours; I don't care what method you use, block all exits. When I make my move, I don't want a single fly to be able to fly out."
Butcher's brow furrowed into a knot, and he couldn't help but interrupt: "Wait! What about our plan? Aren't we going to have a meeting to discuss the specific details of the operation? Like how to force him out? How to restrict his movements?"
"Plan?"
Leon finally turned his head, and through his gold-rimmed glasses, those cold eyes landed on Butcher's face. "What I just said is the plan."
"What the fuck kind of plan is that?!"
Butcher's temper flared up instantly. "We don't even know which direction he's going to come from! How are we supposed to..."
"He will walk over from 10th Avenue, and at approximately 1:17 AM, he will pass by that crooked plane tree."
Leon calmly interrupted him, his tone as if he were stating an established fact.
"How could you possibly..."
Butcher's words stuck in his throat.
"I'm responsible for catching him."
Leon walked over to that massive steel airtight container, curled his fingers, and tapped lightly on the cold steel plate, producing a dull "thud-thud" sound.
"You," he turned around, his gaze sweeping over the three people who were completely dumbfounded, "only need to be responsible for lifting this box onto the van."
The entire warehouse fell into a deathly silence.
Mother's Milk's Adam's apple bobbed, and he finally asked the question that had been hovering in his mind for two days, his voice dry and strained.
"I still don't understand... How are you... going to catch an invisible guy on a pitch-black night?"
Leon took off his gold-rimmed glasses and pulled a pure white silk handkerchief from his pocket, slowly and methodically wiping the lenses.
Under the moonlight, his eyes, no longer shielded by the lenses, appeared deep and terrifying, as if they could see through everything in the world.
He finished wiping his glasses and put them back on, the corners of his mouth curling into an elegant yet cruel arc.
"What you should be worrying about isn't how I'm going to catch him."
Leon's voice was very soft, but like a scalpel, it precisely dissected the psychological defenses of everyone present.
"What you really should be worrying about," his gaze pierced through the darkness, as if he could already see the prey about to arrive, "is how he is going to escape from my hands."
Chapter 28: Night Hunt Begins! A Hand Chokes the Air!
"The question is, how can he escape from my hands?"
These words, like a cold current from Siberia, instantly drained the last bit of warmth from the warehouse. Butcher, Mother's Milk, and Frenchie, looking at Leon's face with its indifferent smile, felt more suffocated for a moment than when facing Homelander's Heat Vision.
This was not confidence.
This was a verdict on the fate of lower-level prey from a higher-dimensional being.
Friday, 1:00 AM.
New York, Manhattan West Side, 49th Street.
This street was like a scar forgotten by the bustling city. The old buildings on both sides had peeling walls, and the windows were pitch black, like the eye sockets of skulls. There was no moon tonight; the only light source was the extremely dim glow cast by the distant skyscrapers, filtered through the clouds.
A battered Ford van, like a rusted iron coffin, sat silently in the shadows at the street corner. In the driver's seat, Frenchie stared fixedly at the rearview mirror, not even daring to take out his beloved whiskey.
At both ends of the street, two hundred meters apart, Butcher and Mother's Milk were hidden behind an abandoned newsstand and a pile of construction debris, respectively. They gripped oddly shaped electromagnetic guns, their heartbeats amplified infinitely in the dead of night.
And Leon stood in the very center of the street, under the massive shadow of that crooked sycamore tree.
He wore black casual clothes designed for mobility, his hands in his pockets, his entire being blending into the darkness. But he was neither looking nor listening.
Quantum Perception had already been activated.
X-ray vision had already been engaged.
In his field of vision, the entire world was no longer a collection of concrete and steel, but a network woven from countless energy flows and causal lines. He could "see" Frenchie nervously rubbing his hands in the car, could "see" Butcher quietly adjusting his breathing rhythm, and could "see" the fine beads of sweat seeping from Mother's Milk's forehead.
Time ticked away, second by second.
1:16 AM.
Leon's gaze turned toward the direction of 10th Avenue.
In his "field of vision," a blurry human silhouette emitting a faint bio-electric field appeared.
No clothes, no equipment; his naked body showed no signs of shivering in the minus two-degree air. compound v had indeed altered the physiological functions of these "heroes" to some extent.
The silhouette was walking over step by step, barefoot, treading on the cold concrete ground at a leisurely pace. His heartbeat was steady and strong; one could even parse from the vibration frequency of his throat that he was humming a lewd pop song.
Translucent.
He had arrived.
His route was exactly the same as the results Butcher had scouted and the trajectory Leon had previously deduced.
He had no idea that he was walking step by step into a slaughterhouse tailor-made for him.
One hundred meters.
Fifty meters.
Twenty meters.
In the van, Frenchie's heart was in his throat. He couldn't see anything, only staring fixedly at the shadow where Leon was located.
Behind the newsstand, Butcher already had his finger on the trigger of the electromagnetic gun, his palms sweating. He still couldn't see anything and could only rely on his trust in Leon's superhuman strength to force himself to stay put.
Ten meters.
Five meters.
Translucent was humming a little tune, about to walk past that crooked sycamore tree. In his eyes, this street was completely empty, as safe as his own backyard.
Three meters!
Just at the moment he brushed past Leon.
The shadow moved.
Leon took a step out of that extreme darkness.
No sound, no warning, like a ghost seeping out from an interdimensional space.
He didn't even look at that "human silhouette," just relied on absolute perception and reached out his right hand.
The movement was not fast, even carrying a hint of casualness, as if picking a flower by the roadside.
His hand, with such precise accuracy, suddenly grabbed at a patch of empty air!
"Ugh—!"
A short, sharp, strange cry, like a duck with its throat strangled, exploded out of thin air on the dead-silent street!
Frenchie and Butcher's pupils instantly shrank to the size of needle points!
They saw it!
They saw a scene they would never forget for the rest of their lives!
Leon's hand was just suspended in mid-air. Yet his five fingers clearly showed the posture of tightening with force, the veins on the back of his hand slightly bulging.
Under his palm, the patch of air that had been empty was twisting and struggling violently!
A pair of invisible feet were kicking wildly half a foot off the ground, stirring up weak air currents.
A pair of invisible hands were desperately trying to pry open Leon's hand, which was like an iron clamp. Leon, with just one hand, was choking a completely invisible person by the neck, lifting him alive off the ground!
The scene was bizarre! Terrifying! Full of the absurdity of a dimension-reduction strike!
Translucent felt like he was going crazy.
He felt not like he was being choked by a person, but like his throat was clamped by an industrial-grade hydraulic press! That force was brutal, unreasonable, making his carbon-metamaterial skin—which he prided himself on—emit a "creak" sound of being unable to bear the load.
The sensation of suffocation and unprecedented fear, like cold seawater, instantly flooded his brain.
He couldn't see the enemy!
He didn't even know how the enemy had discovered him!
What the fuck kind of monster was this?!
Holding this "air" that was struggling in vain in mid-air, Leon tilted his head slightly, his gold-rimmed glasses reflecting a cold light in the darkness. Looking at this invisible prey that he could clearly sense, a gentle yet cruel smile appeared on his face.
His voice was not loud, but like a devil's whisper, it clearly drilled into Translucent's ears, which were buzzing from oxygen deprivation.
"Good evening, Mr. Translucent."
"I know, you can't see my expression right now."
Leon's other hand lifted gently, as if caressing a work of art, and stopped in front of that struggling "air."
"But I can see yours."
"Your expression right now..."
The curve of Leon's mouth grew wider, his tone filled with playfulness, "Is very, very interesting."
Chapter 29: Your face is truly fascinating!
"But I can see yours."
Leon's voice drifted softly through the dead-silent street, yet it felt like ten thousand steel needles instantly piercing Translucent's final psychological line of defense.
"Your expression right now... is very, very interesting."
"Urgh... hhh..."
Held by the throat and suspended in mid-air, Translucentcould only emit a wheezing sound like a broken bellows from his throat.
He felt his cervical vertebrae groaning under the unbearable pressure; the force coming from that hand was steady, continuous, and unreasonably increasing!
What made him feel most broken was that his pride and joy, his invisibility ability, was starting to spiral out of control under the extreme fear and suffocation!
His body began to flicker and materialize in the air intermittently, like an old television with a bad signal!
First, an arm that had turned purple from lack of oxygen, then half a face twisted to the extreme with terror, and then it instantly vanished into the air, leaving only a blurred outline.
Inside the van, Frenchie's mouth was agape wide enough to fit an egg, and the whiskey bottle in his hand had long since rolled to his feet.
"My God... He... he actually caught the air?"
In the shadows of the street corner, Mother's Milk's burly frame was tense as a rock; he stared fixedly at the eerie space where human body parts kept flashing, feeling the worldview he had built over the past twenty years crumbling inch by inch.
Butcher's expression was even uglier than one could imagine.
His palms were slick with cold sweat as he gripped the electromagnetic gun.
He had thought he had overestimated Leon enough, but this scene before him told him that what he had seen might not even count as the tip of the iceberg.
This was not a fight.
This was a god toying with a mortal.
"You see, your ability is very unstable."
Leon held the struggling "air" in his hand, and his other hand slowly raised, as if to brush away a speck of dust, reaching toward Translucent's flickering face.
Translucent was losing his mind!
He could feel that hand approaching, carrying the scent of death!
He twisted his body desperately, his invisible legs kicking wildly in the air, trying to dodge.
But with his throat gripped, all his struggles seemed so futile and laughable.
Leon's finger landed lightly on Translucent's forehead, which had just materialized.
Then, he gave a gentle flick.
Just like flicking away a grain of rice.
"Snap!"
A faint yet incredibly crisp sound.
Accompanied by a suppressed groan of extreme pain, Translucent's high nose bridge collapsed at a speed visible to the naked eye the moment he materialized!
Blood, mixed with snot and tears, instantly gushed out from that twisted face!
The excruciating pain caused his invisibility ability to collapse completely!
With a "thud," a completely naked, blood-covered man appeared fully in everyone's sight, only to return to a semi-transparent, blurred state in the next second.
"Drag... drag him into the car!" Butcher finally snapped out of his shock and roared into the walkie-talkie.
Leon, however, did not move; he continued to hold the prey, who was on the verge of fainting, with one hand and walked step by step toward the dilapidated van like dragging a dead dog.
"Creeeak—"
Frenchie tremblingly pushed open the car door, while Mother's Milk took a deep breath, stepped forward, and yanked open the back door of the van.
Inside the back door was that cold, metallic-gleaming steel containment box.
When Translucent's eyes, bulging with fear, saw the "coffin" custom-made for him, he completely broke down!
He knew what that was!
That was a "containment box" specifically used to imprison and transport super-humans with special abilities!
Once locked inside, in that completely sealed space that blocked all signals and light, his invisibility ability would become meaningless!
He would be completely imprisoned, just like an ordinary prisoner!
"No... no! Please! Don't lock me in there! Please!"
Translucent finally regained a sliver of the ability to speak; tears and snot streaming down his face, he began to beg incoherently, "I'll tell you everything! What do you want? Money? Women? Vought's secrets? I can give you all of them! I'm a member of The Seven! I'm very valuable! Killing me or locking me up won't do you any good!"
Leon stopped, turned his head, and the gaze behind his gold-rimmed glasses was like inspecting a pile of lifeless trash.
"Value?" He chuckled, "Your value is decided by me, not you."
He ignored the other's wailing and, like throwing out trash, shoved Translucent into that cold iron box.
Translucent's naked body hit the hard steel plate with a muffled "bang."
Just as Leon was about to close the heavy box door, he suddenly stopped.
He crouched down, looked at the man curled up like a maggot and trembling all over inside the box, and calmly asked a seemingly irrelevant question.
"Three months ago, a newcomer girl named Annie Januarywas pinned to a table in your The Seven lounge by that waste, The Deep."
Translucent stiffened.
Leon's tone didn't change in the slightest, but every word felt like an ice pick, stabbing fiercely into Translucent's bone marrow.
"You were there, weren't you?"
Translucent's eyes widened abruptly, his pupils shrinking to the size of pinpricks due to extreme fear!
The expression on his face already explained everything!
He wasn't just there!
He was even standing right there, invisible, watching the whole thing with great interest!
The smile on Leon's face slowly vanished.
He reached out and grabbed the wrist Translucent was using to try to hold the box door open.
"Crack!!!!!"
A teeth-grinding sound of bone shattering sounded exceptionally harsh in the dead-silent night!
Leon expressionlessly snapped Translucent's right wrist, bending it backward 180 degrees!
White bone shards, mixed with flesh, pierced directly through the skin and were exposed hideously to the air!
"Aaaaaahhhhh—!!!"
The moment Translucent's inhuman scream escaped, it was tightly muffled by Leon's other hand, leaving only desperate "wooing" whimpers.
"This is the interest."
Leon leaned into his ear, his voice as soft as a devil's whisper.
"As for the principal, I'll come back to settle that with you after I'm done dealing with The Deep."
"Bang!!!!!"
The heavy steel box door was shut and locked by him without mercy.
The world instantly plunged into darkness and dead silence, leaving only that piercing, bone-deep pain and boundless despair.
Leon stood up, brushed the non-existent dust off his hands, and said to the three petrified men, Butcher and the others.
"What are you staring at?"
"Drive, back to the warehouse."
"We... still have a lot to talk about."
Chapter 30: A Ticking Time Bomb? Then let it explode at my feet!
"Drive, back to the warehouse. We... still have a lot to discuss."
Leon's voice was not loud, but it was like a bucket of ice water, shocking the stunned trio of The Boys back to reality.
Frenchie jolted, scrambled back into the driver's seat in a panic, and tremblingly started the dilapidated van.
Mother's Milk and Butcher exchanged glances, both seeing undisguised horror in each other's eyes.
They silently closed the car doors and sat in the back seats; no one spoke.
Inside the van, besides the roar of the engine, all that remained was the suppressed, beast-like whimpering coming from the massive steel sealed container, filtered to a faint sound by the heavy steel plates.
That sound seemed to lower the temperature inside the vehicle by several degrees.
Half an hour later, at the abandoned appliance warehouse.
"Clang!"
The latches of the sealed container were opened, and a stench mixed with blood, sweat, and the smell of urine instantly gushed out.
Mother's Milk and Frenchie immediately covered their noses and stepped back in disgust.
Butcher, suppressing his nausea, worked with Mother's Milk to drag out the man inside, who was completely collapsed and covered in filth.
Translucent, at this moment, had completely lost any semblance of the style befitting a member of The Seven.
His invisibility ability had completely failed under extreme fear and pain, and that once-proud, invulnerable body was now starkly exposed under the dim lights of the warehouse, his nasal bridge collapsed, his right wrist twisted at a grotesque angle, stained with dried blood.
He was dragged like a pile of mud to a steel pillar in the center of the warehouse and firmly cuffed with cold iron chains.
Leon pulled over a dusty chair and sat down leisurely in front of Translucent, crossing his legs; his posture suggested not the interrogation of a prisoner, but a business negotiation.
He didn't rush to speak, just watched Translucent quietly, his gaze behind his gold-rimmed glasses dissecting the other man's crumbling psychological defenses inch by inch, like a scalpel.
This silence was more oppressive than any torture.
"I... I'll talk... I'll say anything..."
Finally, Translucent couldn't hold on any longer. He lifted his blood-stained face and pleaded hoarsely, "Please, end it for me... or let me go... I promise, I won't say anything, I swear!"
"Swear?" Leon smiled. He slowly stood up, walked to Translucent, extended his gloved right hand, and pressed his thumb gently onto Translucent's left collarbone.
"In my world, oaths are the most worthless things."
His thumb began to press down slowly and steadily.
"Cr... creak..."
Translucent clearly heard his own hard, compound v-reinforced collarbone groaning under the unbearable pressure, as if it were about to be snapped by that finger in the next second!
"Ah—! I'll talk! I'll talk! Stop pressing!"
Intense pain and fear struck again, and Translucentcompletely broke down. Like spilling beans, he began to frantically pour out everything he knew.
"What do you want to know?! Vought's security layout? I'll tell you! I'll tell you! Floors ninety-nine to eighty are the core management level. There are three independent security systems. Besides iris and voice prints, they require dynamic passwords that are updated daily! The passwords are issued directly by Madelyn Stillwell's secretary's office!"
Leon's thumb didn't let go, but he stopped applying force.
"What about the weaknesses of the members of The Seven?"
"Homelander! Homelander has no weaknesses! He is a god! But... but he has psychological issues! He is extremely deprived of love, craves attention, and his biggest Achilles' heel is his public approval rating! Once the approval rating drops, he becomes extremely anxious and unstable!"
"Queen Maeve, she is bisexual, she has been secretly contacting her ex-girlfriend, and Vought uses this to threaten her! She also has a serious drinking problem!"
"Black Noir... Black Noir has a severe nut allergy! A single almond could send him into shock! This is the top secret of The Seven!"
To save his life, Translucent didn't hesitate at all and sold out his teammates' secrets completely.
Butcher listened from the side, dumbfounded. He looked at Leon with a complex expression. Any one of these pieces of intelligence was something they had dreamed of obtaining in the past but could never get, and now, it was pried out so easily.
"The storage location of the compound v serum." Leoncontinued to ask.
"At... at the medical center on the seventy-second floor, there is an independent cold storage unit. It requires the keys of both CEO Edgar and Vice President Madelyn Stillwell to authorize access simultaneously! That's where the purest V serum stock is kept!"
"Very good." Leon's thumb finally moved away from his collarbone. He straightened up and brushed the dust off his gloves. "One last question. Regarding the 'Times Square incident', how far has Vought's internal investigation progressed?"
Hearing this question, Translucent hesitated visibly, his eyes flickering.
Leon said nothing, just slowly raised his right hand again.
"I'll talk! I'll talk!" Translucent screamed, terrified out of his wits. "The investigation... the investigation is at a deadlock! We can't find any clues! That man's face is like a mosaic, and the scene was cleaner than an operating room! Madelyn Stillwell is almost going crazy! But... but Homelander! He... he is very excited!"
"Excited?" Leon's eyebrows arched slightly.
"Yes! Excited!" Translucent seemed to recall something extremely terrifying, his body trembling uncontrollably. "He feels that, in this world, there has finally appeared a 'toy' worth him taking action! He has been using his super hearing to monitor all of New York lately, trying to find that person!"
"And... and Homelander's mood has been very unstable lately, very irritable! Because he... he seems to have discovered a shocking secret!"
"What secret?" Butcher couldn't help but ask.
Translucent swallowed hard, his voice dropping extremely low, as if speaking a forbidden name.
"He... he seems to have discovered that Vought's top brass has been hiding something from him..."
"He has a biological son!"
"What?!" Butcher and Mother's Milk exclaimed simultaneously. Homelander has a son? This is simply absurd!
In Leon's eyes, a glimmer of genuine interest finally flashed.
He knew this plot point, but he didn't expect to have it confirmed so early from Translucent's mouth.
"Homelander is like a ticking time bomb with its fuse lit right now!" Translucent said in terror. "He is frantically searching for his son's location! Anyone who dares to provoke him at this time, he will truly, without hesitation, burn them to ash with his laser eyes!"
The warehouse fell into a deathly silence.
Homelander has a son.
Homelander is a ticking time bomb that could explode at any moment.
The impact of these two pieces of information was simply too great.
After a long while, Leon slowly broke the silence.
He looked at Translucent, who was cuffed to the pillar and panting like a dead dog, a cold, calculating arc appearing at the corner of his mouth.
"A ticking time bomb?"
He repeated it softly, then pushed up the gold-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose, his tone filled with an unquestionable sense of control.
"That's very good."
"Then let this bomb... explode magnificently for me... at the time I want, in the place I want."