US police: Plane crashes started with Homelander.

18 chapter

Li Ang stood in the corridor, watching the woman in black use her tentacles to sweep across the corner of the building and disappear from sight.

Claire stepped out of the dent in the locker and looked down at the wound on her abdomen.

Three claw marks, flesh torn open, blood already soaking half her pants. She tore off the last remaining hem of her shirt, wrapped it haphazardly twice, and tied a tight knot.

"Do you know her?" Li Ang asked.

"I don't know her." Claire said this without looking at Li Ang, but staring in the direction where the woman in black had disappeared.

Li Ang whistled.

Footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor. Two uniformed policemen ran out of the stairwell, guns in hand. They paused noticeably when they saw the black blood and mangled flesh on the floor.

"This is all done."

Claire told them, "The monster is dead. There's another classroom upstairs that needs cleaning; take some people up there."

The two policemen exchanged a glance, asked no further questions, and turned to call their colleagues upstairs.

Leon returned the M1911 to Claire. Claire took it, ejected the magazine, glanced at it, and saw there were three bullets left. She slapped the magazine back in and tucked it back into the holster on her waist.

"Let's go," she said. "This is none of our business."

"Back to the station?"

"Go to the hospital."

Claire gestured with her chin, indicating to Leon to look at her stomach. The hem of the shirt wrapped around her waist was soaked with blood, which trickled down her trouser seams and pooled in a small puddle on the ground near her right foot.

Only then did Li Ang notice that her face was pale.

Why didn't you say so earlier?

"What's the point of saying that?" Claire strode toward the school gate, her steps still steady, but much slower than usual. "That thing won't surrender just because I'm injured."

Li Ang followed her, wanting to help her, but she shook him off.

"Need not."

"You're almost bleeding to death."

"I won't die." Claire opened the passenger door and slumped into the seat. "My serum-enhanced body recovers faster than a normal person's. A few stitches will do."

Li Ang walked around to the driver's seat and started the Cadillac. He drove much slower than Claire, and Claire yelled at him three times along the way, "Did you not pass your driving test?", but he didn't say a word back.

When the ER doctor saw Claire's abdominal wound, his expression changed visibly. Not because the injury was too severe—he'd seen far worse wounds as an ER doctor in New York. Rather, it was because the skin around the wound had begun to heal on its own; pinkish new flesh was growing from the edges of the wound, slowly but noticeably.

"A mutant?" the doctor asked.

“No,” Claire said. “Serum enhancement. An old technology from World War II.”

The doctor glanced at her but didn't ask any more questions. She received fourteen stitches, a tetanus shot, and a dressing. That was it.

It was already getting dark when I came out of the emergency room.

Claire sat on the steps outside the hospital and lit a cigarette. Li Ang stood next to her, holding a bottle of Gatorade he had bought from a vending machine; it was blue, the color of antifreeze.

"That girl in black," Li Ang said, "what do you think she's doing at school?"

"Just like you."

"Same as me?"

"It was a coincidence." Claire exhaled a puff of smoke. "She came here to track that monster. Notice the timing of her attack? It wasn't pre-arranged; she arrived just then. This means she was also looking for that thing, just a few minutes later than us."

"When she killed that monster," Li Ang recalled the scene, "four tentacles simultaneously pierced her chest cavity and pulled in all directions, "her technique was very skilled. It wasn't the first time."

"Yes." Claire stubbed out her cigarette on the steps, grinding the butt a few times. "So it wasn't a spur-of-the-moment decision. She was actively hunting mutant monsters. As for why, I don't know."

Li Ang unscrewed the Gatorade and took a sip; it definitely tasted like antifreeze.

"Are you planning to investigate her?"

“No.” Claire stood up and stretched. “She didn’t break the law. Killing a monster in action is considered an act of heroism in this state. I have no reason to investigate her.”

"Then why did you say it was troublesome?"

"I'm talking about her complicated background, not her as a person." Claire picked up her cigarette butt and threw it into the nearby trash can. "The fact that Kane Industries is in New York, hunting mutant monsters, is intelligence in itself. As for how to use that intelligence, that's not my business as a lowly cop."

Li Ang thought about it for a moment and felt that what she said made sense.

The two walked towards the parking lot. Claire walked to the driver's side and opened the door.

"I'll drive," Li Ang said.

"You drive?"

"You had fourteen stitches in your stomach, aren't you afraid they'll rupture while driving?"

Claire glanced at him, closed the driver's side door, and went around to the passenger side to get in.

Leon started the car and drove for two minutes before Claire fell asleep. Her head was tilted towards the car window, her breathing was steady, and one hand was still on the holster, her fingers unconsciously tapping lightly on the gun handle.

As they passed a red light, Li Ang glanced at her sideways.

She didn't look so fierce when she was asleep. The slight upturn at the corners of her eyes was still there, but her eyebrows had relaxed, and her lips were no longer pressed into a line. A few strands of her hair fell down, resting on her face and swaying gently with the bumps of the car.

Li Ang turned his gaze back to the front; the light turned green, and he stepped on the gas.

The police car merged into traffic and headed toward Brooklyn.

three days later.

Several more Homelander campaign signs have appeared on the streets of New York.

Every day during his patrols, Li Ang saw that face—smiling, serious, gazing into the distance, hands on hips—from every angle, with every expression, all carefully chosen. His campaign slogan was written on his GG sign: "A true leader, a true America."

Claire said that Vought International has already spent 300 million dollars on Homelander's campaign. That's just the publicly stated figure; nobody knows how much more is going to be spent behind the scenes.

While scrolling through his phone during a break from patrol, Li Ang saw a news report: former President Biden's body has been buried, the vice president has signed a temporary authorization, and a new president will be elected through a special election within sixty days.

The most upvoted comment was a four-character message: "A person from the motherland is running for office."

The comments section was filled with hundreds of thousands of replies, mostly supportive, with a few expressing doubts, and a small group arguing. The arguments revolved around the same issues: whether a mutant could be president, whether Homelander had any hidden secrets, and whether he was truly as "perfect" as he appeared.

Li Ang browsed a few pages and then closed the app.

He remembered Ye Ziqing's words. He remembered the expression on her face when she said, "Just because he saved more people than he killed doesn't mean he can be innocent after killing people." He remembered her saying, "Someone has to do these things."

She hasn't shown up in the last few days.

Li Ang didn't know where she had gone, nor how far her plan had progressed. He didn't even know if she was still alive—although he felt that with her skills, she shouldn't have died silently in some sewer.

But he didn't take the initiative to go to her.

It's not that I don't want to, but that I don't know what to say.

He rejected her. His rejection was swift and decisive, his reasons sound and his logic rigorous. She didn't press him; she turned and left without looking back.

If she reappears, what can he say?

"I've thought it through, I'll help you"?

That's ridiculous. He just couldn't understand it. He still thought that provoking Homelander now was suicide.

"I still can't help you, but I can treat you to a meal."

That would be incredibly stupid. She wasn't looking for someone to eat with.

Li Ang put his phone back in his pocket, got out of the patrol car, leaned against the door, and looked across the street at a grocery store that was being renovated. Workers were putting up a new sign with the face of a Homelander printed on it, and below it read "We trust Homelander".

This world has gone mad.

Or he's always been crazy, and he just discovered it.

Claire's injuries healed faster than he had expected. She was able to patrol normally the day after she received her stitches, and the dressing was removed on the third day. The newly grown skin was pink and tenderer than the surrounding skin, but it didn't hurt at all.

"I've said it before, people who have been serum-enhanced recover faster." She said this in a flat tone, as if stating something obvious.

Li Ang didn't reply. He was thinking that his recovery speed was actually faster than hers. The time he was laser-treated on his back, his spine was exposed, but he was healed in three days. If he were to openly show his wounds to others like she was, he would probably get a "Are you a mutant too?" in return.

But he won't.

He didn't even mention Claire.

He told no one about his abilities, about his ability to steal superpowers from those he killed. It wasn't distrust—well, it was a lack of trust. In this world, secrets are hard currency; once you hand them over, you never know how the other person will use them.

He made up his mind that he would keep this matter to himself.

That evening, after getting off work, Li Ang walked alone on his way back to his apartment.

The Brooklyn night breeze blew in from the bay, carrying a slightly fishy smell. There weren't many people on the streets, and only a few cars occasionally passed by, their headlights sweeping across the road before disappearing at the next intersection.

When he got to the apartment building, he saw a person standing at the door.

A short blue cheongsam, black pigtails, and sneakers. Leaning against the wall by the door, looking down at her phone.

Green leaves.

Li Ang paused for a moment, then continued walking forward.

How did you know I lived here?

Ye Ziqing looked up at him, then put her phone in her pocket.

"you guess."

"I feel like you're stalking me."

"You think so."

Li Ang walked to the door, took out his keys, and opened the door to the stairwell. He glanced back at her.

"Come on up."

Ye Ziqing didn't stand on ceremony and followed him upstairs.