Free Web NovelChapter 7: 07: Coz’ Fck The Plot!
Boldness is a necessary part of power. Any mistakes you commit through audacity are easily corrected with more audacity.
~ Robert Greene, The 48 Laws of Power
___
"Last warning!" A-Train dropped into a starting stance.
"Get the fuck out of my way or I’ll smash you to pieces!"
Hillel clapped his hands once, looking completely relaxed.
"You can try."
A-Train moved.
He poured on everything he had. In under a second he blasted past three hundred miles per hour. In The Seven, only Homelander could keep up with him.
This time he went full throttle, charging straight at Hillel with a sonic boom trailing behind.
Boom!
The asphalt road tore apart instantly.
But under Hillel’s supersonic reflexes, A-Train’s so-called unbeatable speed looked like slow-motion replay.
He could even make out the tiny expressions on A-Train’s face — pure rage, madness, and a hint of hidden fear.
Hillel raised his right hand and, the exact moment A-Train got in range, swung at supersonic speed.
A supersonic slap.
The timing was perfect to the millisecond, landing square on A-Train’s left cheek.
He used less than ten percent of his sixty-two tons of strength.
SmAAck!
The sonic boom cracked like a whip.
A-Train’s body flew in a wide arc, smashing straight through the door of a parked SUV on the roadside and embedding deep into the metal.
The massive impact shoved the whole SUV back more than three meters.
The car looked like a crushed soda can.
The entire street went dead silent.
It took a full three minutes before A-Train dragged himself out of the wrecked vehicle.
The left side of his face was swollen like a balloon. Blood leaked from the corner of his mouth and his front teeth were gone.
The Compound V high basically got knocked clean out of him by that slap.
Hillel watched as A-Train’s eyes finally cleared up.
Only then did A-Train really look at him: dark gray battle suit, strange runes on the chest glowing with dark gold light.
He wasn’t any supe A-Train recognized.
A total stranger.
"Who... who the hell are you?" A-Train’s voice shook.
Hillel walked slowly toward him.
The pressure from his bio-field pressed down on A-Train like a mountain.
The guy known as the fastest man in alive was now backing up like a dog with its tail stepped on.
"You asked me earlier who I thought I was."
"..."
"I am The Guardian."
He squatted down, looking A-Train right in the eyes.
"Remember this name. I will be the Sword of Damocles hanging over the head of every corrupt supe."
A-Train’s lips twitched a couple times, but he didn’t dare make a sound.
Hillel stood up. The crowd of over a hundred people around them was completely stunned.
A middle-aged man at the front of the pack had his eyes bugging out.
"He... he just beat the shit out of A-Train?"
"The fastest guy in The Seven got slapped so hard he couldn’t even fight back?" frёewebnoѵel.ƈo๓
"And with one slap! Just one fucking slap! Hell, nah.. oh, hell, nah!!!"
The numbers on the panel went completely nuts.
This time it wasn’t a slow climb. It was a dam bursting.
+834 +1,247 +672 +1,893 +445 +2,156 +789 +1,034...
The emotions of the hundred-plus people watching on the street hit their peak all at once — shock, worship, fear, hatred, every positive and negative feeling you could imagine.
The livestreams online were even crazier.
Over a hundred phones were broadcasting at the same time, feeding the footage live to tens of millions of screens. The comments were flying so fast they blurred together.
[@BabyMomma69: Holy shit holy shit holy shit holy shit!]
[@SixSevenKid: He just slapped A-Train????]
[@NeuroSama: Oh, gee, golly gosh! No fucking way! A-Train is already fast as hell, but there’s someone even better?]
[@Vedal987: How did you bypass your filter, @NeuroSama??!!!!]
[@MilkLover: The Guardian is a fucking beast!!!!]
[@HitlerWasRight: Vought must be shitting themselves right now. This doesn’t look scripted at all!]
[@Azaroth: Don’t get ahead of yourself. Maybe Vought set this up to replace A-Train!]
[@TheGayMan: Can the conspiracy nuts fuck off? You really think Vought would wreck A-Train, who’s worth billions, just to push some random guy?]
[@Ironmouse: What if he’s some rich kid?]
...
The panel finished raking in the points.
Current on-site emotion collection: +11,237
[Current Ability Points: 24,075 / 100,000]
Hillel took a deep breath.
He had just bagged over ten thousand points in one shot.
Just as he thought, publicly fucking up a member of The Seven and slapping them across the face was the fastest way to farm points.
But Hillel didn’t let it go to his head for long. He knew things had changed starting now.
For the past few days he’d only been playing vigilante and doing good deeds, which Vought could probably stomach.
But today he had slapped A-Train across the face in public, right in front of over a hundred phones livestreaming the whole thing.
The Seven’s image took a direct hit because of it.
Vought International probably couldn’t sit back and watch anymore.
They would definitely make a move.
Hillel glanced back and saw Hughie and Robin still standing there frozen.
"You two."
"Get home quick. Don’t stick around here."
Hughie finally snapped out of it and stammered, "You... you’re the guy who came in yesterday looking for speakers... You really are The Guardian. I knew I’d seen you somewhere..."
"Let’s talk another time."
Only then did Robin react. She grabbed Hughie’s arm tight. "Hughie... A-Train... he almost ran straight into us..."
"I know... I know..."
Hughie pulled her closer, comforting her while stealing another look at Hillel.
[Key Character: Hughie Campbell]
[Drastic Emotional Shift: Cognitive Reconstruction in Progress]
[Ability Points Obtained: +1,847]
Hillel didn’t stick around.
While he was talking to Hughie, A-Train had already bolted, running faster than he ever had in his life.
If a speedster really wanted to run, there was no catching him in this messy crowd.
Whatever. Let him go.
As long as the main goal was done, he didn’t have to kill A-Train today.
The guy still had his own big moments ahead.
Hillel pushed off the ground, shot straight up into the sky, and vanished from Brooklyn in seconds.
...
Twenty minutes later.
Vought International Headquarters, 72nd floor.
Madelyn Stillwell’s office.
The video played on the tablet in crystal clear high definition, with at least five different angles.
A gray figure dropping from the sky.
Stopping A-Train’s full-speed charge with one hand.
Slapping him into a car like it was nothing.
As if it was completely insignificant.
A provocation. This was a straight-up slap in the face to Vought International and total disrespect toward The Seven.
"The Sword of Damocles hanging over the heads of all corrupt supes?"
Madelyn Stillwell could already picture how Homelander’s fragile ego would explode when he heard that line, and exactly how ugly things were about to get. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom
Madelyn Stillwell paused the video.
The analyst next to her didn’t even dare breathe too loud.
"What are the view counts?"
"...It’s been up for eighteen minutes and the total views across all platforms are already over twenty million. Expected to hit a hundred million within the hour."
"Public opinion?"
"Completely out of control!" The analyst’s voice shook a little. "They’ve dug up the whole thing about A-Train speeding while high on drugs and nearly running over pedestrians."
On Twitter, #ATrainAttemptedMurder is already the top trending topic in the US.
Every discussion online is asking the same thing: if A-Train is this dirty, what about the rest of The Seven?
At this point Vought can’t bullshit the public by claiming the video is AI fake.
Madelyn Stillwell’s nails scratched a white line into the desk.
"What’s The Guardian’s current public image?"
"He’s been turned into a god across the internet. Right now positive comments about him are at 97%, and there are even petitions demanding he replace A-Train in The Seven."
"Bullshit! ’Deified across the internet’? The public just loves tearing down old idols and building up new ones!"
Madelyn Stillwell snapped, "Do they really think they’re fighting for justice? They just want to ride the traffic wave and cash in!"
"What about the mainstream media coverage?"
The analyst pushed up his glasses, sounding a bit more relaxed. "So far no mainstream outlet has reported on it publicly. They’re all staying quiet. Must be Mr. Edgar putting pressure on them."
Madelyn Stillwell picked up the phone and dialed a mysterious number.
No voice on the other end, just steady breathing.
Madelyn kept her tone low and chose every word carefully.
"Mr. Edgar, I suggest we recall Homelander immediately and crush this supe who’s challenging Vought’s authority before it gets worse."
"Foolish!"
The voice on the other end was flat, but every word made Madelyn shrink back.
"Then... sir, what should we..."
"Contact him. Negotiate terms. If you can’t even see the opportunity in this situation, then step down and resign!"
"...."
