Adam Hammond had lived in Coast City for decades, but it was the first time he felt the city's autumn was so repulsive.
The autumn rain fell endlessly, and the autumn wind, carrying the chill of the Arctic Ocean, pierced his body like steel needles.
After standing at the door for two minutes, Adam Hammond couldn't bear it anymore. He wrapped his coat tightly and huddled by the fireplace, tasting the loneliness like an old man on his last legs.
Ever since Hector's press conference, his government positions had been erased. State senator, congressman, major general, high-ranking official in the Department of Defense, Democratic Party senator, and so on—decades of effort vanished in an instant.
All of this was thanks to that "good son."
They say a tiger won't devour its cub, but Adam at this moment harbored endless resentment towards his son.
These past few days, he had been wondering why he had ever been attracted to that foolish and weak Latina woman. Why hadn't he just pissed on a wall instead of bringing that damn bastard into the world to cause trouble?
After losing his job, his life plummeted. He dared not go out, go to the streets, or shop. He couldn't even go to a bar for a drink. Every day, he could only huddle in his dilapidated villa, living a lonely existence under the watchful eyes of a group of "special personnel."
He was fed up with this life, yet he had no way to change it. Coast City hadn't forgotten that Hector's father was Adam Hammond; if he dared to go out, angry citizens would surely tear him limb from limb.
When would these damned days end?
Adam sighed, looking out the window.
The autumn rain grew heavier, making the curtains rustle. He had to get up and close the window tightly. Just then, a thumping sound suddenly came from behind him.
Adam quickly turned around. A strangely-featured man appeared by the fireplace. His skin was fiery red, like burning charcoal, his ears pointed, his eyebrows thick, and his dark hair was neatly combed back. He stood there ramrod straight, like a steel blade made of cold iron.
A soldier?
Adam was also a soldier and was very familiar with that kind of demeanor.
"Adam Hammond?"
A low voice echoed in his ears. Adam immediately snapped back to reality, glanced at the guards lying on the ground outside the door, and said nervously,
"That's me. Who are you, and what do you want?"
"Hector Hammond is your son?"
Adam was silent for a few seconds, then nodded with a grim expression.
"Good, I like your honesty."
Sinestro turned around and continued, "There's an organization called the Eye of God. Have you heard of it?"
Adam instinctively frowned, a flicker of vigilance in his eyes.
Sinestro, who had been observing his expression, nodded knowingly. "It seems I haven't come to the wrong person. You're an insider."
"Some time ago, a flight pod crashed on the beach near Coast City's river bay. The person inside the flight pod was my dear friend, Abin Sur, a great and distinguished warrior. He died protecting the universe, and his body was taken away by an organization called the Eye of God."
"Tell me, where is the Eye of God?"
Adam: "..."
...If time could rewind,
Frode would definitely not have agreed to become the head of the Eye of God. Even if it meant offending Dick Cheney, it would have been better than his current terrible predicament.
That damned Amanda Waller, that bastard, that shrew! Not only did she hollow out the Eye of God, but she also used his name to contact the FBI and the Department of Justice, engaging in many underground political activities, and reportedly even struck some kind of deal with President Joel Nash.
Because of this, he had been scolded countless times by Vice President Dick Cheney and several powerful military generals.
The label of incompetence was firmly affixed to him, impossible to remove.
At this moment, Frode finally understood Amanda's words: You are just a scapegoat!
"A scapegoat? To hell with being a scapegoat!"
Frode roared in a low voice, his expression filled with anger. "Damn black woman, just wait. Sooner or later, you'll fall into my hands."
A lean camel is still bigger than a horse. Although the Eye of God had its core strength stripped away, its research facilities, research data, and most of its heavy equipment remained, along with the most important alien corpse.
Hector's power came from the alien corpse. As long as they could unlock the corpse's secrets, they could mass-produce superhumans as powerful as Hector.
At that time, the Eye of God would soar under his leadership, becoming the king of Earth, unbound by anyone.
Dreams always inspire anticipation. To achieve his goal as quickly as possible, Frode poured all his energy into researching the corpse, even proceeding with "slice research" despite the objections of many scientists.
He himself held a master's degree in medicine, so the dissection work came naturally to him. Soon, Abin Sur's body was divided into countless "small" fragments, which were meticulously studied and scrutinized, piece by piece, from deep to shallow, and shallow to deep.
Frode was so engrossed that he almost wanted to climb onto the corpse, so much so that he didn't even realize the base had been breached.
A human male in a white lab coat was hunched over Abin Sur's shattered body, holding a small knife, tweezers, and an analyzer, occasionally wiping sweat from his forehead and pulling up his loose pants.
This was the sight Sinestro encountered upon entering.
Then, Frode flew into the air, his heart pierced by a burning fire spear, pinned to the wall like a nail. Before he died, his face still held a strong expression of shock and disbelief.
Why... why am I dying?
My wishes?
My ideals?
Am I really... a scapegoat?
A powerful sense of unwillingness surged from the depths of his heart. Frode raised his hand, and then he died.
The Green Lantern Corps soldier who had followed seemed to want to say something, but upon seeing Abin Sur, cut into countless pieces, and their leader's body trembling erratically from anger, he sighed softly and said nothing.
Abin Sur was Sinestro's close friend. The two admired each other deeply; one was the greatest Green Lantern, the other the most powerful. They had been friends for decades, carried out many dangerous missions, and were role models for the Green Lantern Corps.
Now Abin Sur was dead, cut into fish slices and laid on a laboratory table... As a council member of the Green Lantern Corps, what could he say?
Sinestro walked forward step by step, looking at the body parts scattered on the laboratory table. His stern face, which hadn't changed in decades, began to twitch uncontrollably.
He gritted his teeth, letting out a lone wolf's howl. Powerful energy surged around him, the air writhing and twisting with immense explosive force. The researchers nearby turned pale with fear, scrambling to run out in a panic.
Sinestro raised his hand, and a green light pierced a researcher's head, leaving behind a large amount of reddish-yellow viscous matter.
A coffin shimmering with green light appeared out of thin air.
Sinestro carefully picked up his friend's head and placed it on the front edge of the coffin. Then he picked up the body parts from the laboratory table, meticulously piecing them together according to his memory.
His companion tried to step forward to help, but Sinestro roared him back.
The atmosphere became incredibly oppressive and heavy, like a volcano about to erupt, the prelude to a storm.
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