*Clack.* The door lock engaged.
Grimm pulled out his phone and dialed a number.
When the call connected, the noisy shouting of staff members could be faintly heard in the background.
“Hey, Grimm?
What do you want?” The male voice on the other end carried a hint of annoyance at being interrupted.
“I’m about to undergo a ‘benign evolution’ in a bit.
It might have some uncontrollable effects on the surrounding area.
Come over and clean up after me.” “What?
Like Pikachu?” The caller paused, his tone turning odd.
“Yeah, just like fucking Pikachu.” “Beg me.” *Click—* Grimm decisively hung up the phone.
A second later, his phone vibrated.
He answered.
“Hey!
You could at least show a little attitude!” “If you have nothing else to say, I’m hanging up.” “Wait, wait, wait!
I’ll do it!
I’ve been waiting for you to say those words for a long time!” The voice instantly softened, filled with suppressed excitement.
“Get one thing straight.
I’m not begging you.
Come or don’t.” “Fine, fine, fine, you call the shots.
Send me your location and I’ll make the arrangements.” “You know the address.
If it makes an impact, you can take the chance to get the ‘respectable people’ in this area to sign a few things—donations, political support, resource allocations.
As far as I know, a certain deputy minister from the Treasury Department keeps a few ‘black cats’ around here, most likely nearby.
Don’t waste the opportunity.” “Hahaha…” A sharp, low chuckle came from the other end of the line.
“Grimm, you really are sinister.
It’s clearly your own problem, yet you turn the trouble onto others.” “Your moral baseline is just too high.” “Me?
A high moral baseline?” The caller sounded as if he had heard a ridiculous joke, his voice going out of key.
Ignoring his reaction, Grimm hung up directly.
He tossed the phone onto the sofa and walked straight toward the wall behind it.
Fumbling along the edges of several ordinary-looking wall panels, he found the seam and pulled hard.
*Clack!* A heavy disguised panel flipped open, revealing a red industrial-grade breaker switch behind it.
He grabbed the handle and pulled it down.
*Rumble—buzz—* Instantly, a low mechanical roar filled the room!
Thick alloy steel plates slid out from within, sealing all doors and windows, the sharp clacking of locking teeth biting into place echoing clearly.
The screen on the wall automatically switched to a red alert interface.
The outer walls were electrified; maximum defense mode was activated.
This system was his reward for helping Maria Hill clean up a few messes off the books.
Now, this was one of the most fortified private bunkers in New York.
Grimm turned around.
Laura was holding a bag of potato chips, standing in the middle of the living room and looking at him with a blank expression on her face.
“Watch the house.” Grimm walked past her and patted her shoulder.
“If anyone dares break in, kill them.” “Mm.” Laura nodded.
Her expression appeared dull, but her pupils slowly contracted the moment the command was issued.
With his instructions given, Grimm picked up several ice bags by his feet, walked into the bathroom, and locked the door behind him.
There were still wet water marks in the bathtub, and the cold, trailing notes of Vanessa’s perfume lingered in the air.
“Hmm…
musk in the base notes.” Grimm sniffed, tore open the ice bags, and poured them out.
*Clatter—* Ice spilled into the bathtub, rising cold vapor misting the air.
He stripped off his clothes and lay inside.
The bone-chilling cold made his skin shrink.
“Phew—fucking cold,” he muttered, gathering more ice onto himself until he was nearly buried in the heap.
Then, he issued a command in his mind.
“Unlock module.” [Instruction confirmed.
Template: [Valyrian Dragon Brood: Drogon] Unlock procedure initiated…] *Hiss—* An indescribable wave of heat erupted from within his body without warning.
His body temperature spiked in the blink of an eye, far exceeding human limits, instantly sweeping away every trace of cold.
Beneath his skin, unstable, dark red light—like flowing lava—began to glow through.
*Is it really this easy?
Or is my pain threshold just extremely high?* Just as the thought crossed his mind— An unimaginable, explosive agony burst forth from the deepest depths of every single cell!
It felt as though tens of millions of red-hot steel needles were piercing, churning, and tearing from within, or as if an ancient giant beast was roaring inside his shell, desperate to break free.
To sum it up in one word: “Fuck…!!” He curled up, his tightly clenched teeth clattering as broken, low growls squeezed out from his throat.
The veins on his temples and neck bulged violently.
Under the onslaught of insane pain signals, his brain nearly came to a complete halt, but he clung fiercely to his last shred of clarity.
He couldn’t pass out!
Instinct told him that if he lost consciousness right now, something terrible would happen.
He had to adapt to all of this while wide awake!
“I’m gonna fucking piss myself from the pain!!” *Pfft, pfft…* His skin cracked inch by inch, blood gushing out, only to be immediately replaced by new, tougher tissue proliferating at breakneck speed beneath.
Old flesh metabolized as a new lifeform was brutally forged.
He felt his body “swelling,” his muscles, bones, and internal organs metamorphosing amidst intense itching and burning agony.
The ice in the bathtub melted and evaporated at a speed visible to the naked eye, filling the small space with dense white mist.
Through the mist, a hand could be vaguely seen undergoing a terrifying transformation.
Dark, resilient scales covered the skin, Five Fingers elongated, joints reconstructed, and nails transformed into curved black talons.
The suppressed growls in the bathroom gradually turned into a non-human, deep dragon roar, causing even the air to vibrate along with it.
[Unlock progress: 17%…
32%…
54%…
63%…
87%…
96%…
100%] [Template: [Valyrian Dragon Brood: Drogon] Fully unlocked.] *** In the luxury villa district surrounding Grimm’s residence: “Hey, Rudy, what’s wrong with you?” A woman in a bathrobe stood by the window, eating cereal while scrolling on her phone.
The small Teddy dog at her feet suddenly let out a short whimpering wail, collapsed onto the floor, twitching in all four limbs as blood seeped from its mouth and nose, before becoming completely still.
“Oh, my God!
Rudy!” She squatted down in panic.
Before she could even touch her beloved dog, her own heart suddenly constricted violently!
*Thump!
Thump!
Thump!
Thump!* Her heartbeat hammered against her ribcage like runaway drumbeats.
“Gasp…
gasp…” She clutched her chest and collapsed to the ground, struggling to breathe.
Out of the corner of her eye, she caught sight of the window.
*Bang!
Bang!
Bang!* In the sky, birds crashed down like rain!
Slamming onto lawns, car roofs, and railings…
feathers mixed with blood, fluttering in the sunlight.
Car anti-theft alarms began wailing one after another.
Looking further away— A jogger who happened to be passing the sidewalk outside her yard likewise clutched his chest, turned deathly pale, and fell to his knees before pitching forward onto the ground.
The heart rate monitor strapped to his arm showed numbers flashing red continuously, emitting an ear-splitting alarm sound.
It was not just here.
A man lying on the sofa watching a ball game, a white-collar worker talking business on the phone in his study, even the security guard flipping through a fashion magazine inside the booth at the neighborhood entrance…
Every living creature within a radius of several hundred meters felt intense discomfort at the exact same moment.
They either knelt or fell, clawing at their chests in agony.
This was not a plague, nor was it toxic gas.
It was a pure, primal terror imprinted at the bottom of an organism’s genetic code toward a higher tier of predator.
*** Inside Grimm’s residence: Laura was completely oblivious to everything happening outside the window.
Far from feeling any discomfort, she was unusually hyper-excited, rapidly performing weighted pushups on the living room floor, the iron plates on her back clanking loudly.
On the nearby TV screen, the local news was broadcasting emergency breaking coverage of the chaotic scenes from the “mass sudden cardiac arrest incident” taking place in this high-end residential area.
Aerial footage from a helicopter showed rescue personnel in full hazmat suits attempting to enter.
Without exception, however, the instant they stepped across a certain invisible boundary, they knelt in equal agony, unable to advance a single inch.
Laura glanced at the screen, indifferently looked away, and continued her workout.
It was not until late at night that a red and blue streak tore through the night sky, accompanied by the sonic boom of breaking the sound barrier, before crashing heavily onto the temporary perimeter zone outside the villa district.
A shallow crater was smashed into the ground, the air blast blowing away the nearby police tape.
“It’s Homelander!” “Mr.
Homelander!
Are you here to rescue the trapped citizens?
Or will you prioritize dealing with the source of the event?” Reporters swarmed forward like sharks smelling blood, pushing their microphones and cameras almost into his face.
“Hahaha, hello, hello everyone!” Homelander wore a brilliant smile as he waved at the cameras, but avoided answering specific questions.
“Sir!” His PR manager, Ashley—a blonde, round-faced woman holding a tablet—hurriedly pushed through the crowd on high heels.
“Sorry, friends, what comes next involves classified operational details,” Homelander said kindly to the reporters, then placed his arm around Ashley’s shoulder and walked swiftly toward a black command van bearing the Vought logo.
The moment the car door closed, cutting off the view from the outside world, the affable mask on his face vanished instantly.
“Fuck, a bunch of trash.
Their cheap perfume stinks!” “According to preliminary expert assessments, an intense unknown biological radiation field exists within the villa district,” Ashley reported at breakneck speed.
“It causes severe physiological rejection in lower organisms, including humans, but mechanical devices are largely unaffected.
Currently, we’ve collaborated with the military and successfully evacuated some of the trapped individuals using unmanned ground reconnaissance vehicles…” Homelander’s attention, however, was not on this.
Through the one-way window, he glared gloomily at the flashing cameras outside, the busy medical personnel, and—what he least wanted to see—the military personnel in uniform setting up a command post.
In his eyes, these people were all flies coming to steal his credit and screen time.
“Didn’t I issue an order to block news of this?” He took a deep breath and made his habitual, emotion-suppressing swaying motion with his hands in front of his chest before turning his gaze to Ashley.
“Why are there still so many reporters here?
And the military?” “But, Sir, the people living here have extremely complex backgrounds.
There was no way to keep a lid on the news.
Besides, those paparazzi lurking around 24/7…” “I don’t care about the reasons,” Homelander interrupted her directly, his voice ice-cold.
“You failed to do it, so it’s your problem.” Ashley’s face turned pale.
She could only squeeze out a bitter smile, not daring to argue further.
“Where’s Translucent?” Homelander asked, suppressing his anger.
He had explicitly sent that invisible guy ahead to handle and control the situation.
“Uh…
when he arrived, he got egged on by a few reporters and tried to demonstrate his powers by walking straight in…
As a result, he collapsed inside as well.
He’s currently in Ambulance No.
3 getting oxygen.” “Fuck!” Homelander cursed under his breath, pursing his lips tightly, his jaw bulging as he gritted his teeth.
If not for the fact that Translucent had a rather unique fanbase with a considerable base size, he would have kicked that peeping tom trash who only knew how to lurk in women’s restrooms out of The Seven long ago.
He remained silent for a few seconds before speaking again.
“Ashley.” “Yes, Sir!” Ashley snapped her spine straight by reflex.
“Cut the real-time data feed from all the military’s field recorders.
Say it was attacked by an unknown electronic virus, or whatever excuse you want—I don’t care.
Just get it done.” “All those unmanned ground vehicles that went inside—recall them all.
From here on, I will personally go in for the rescue.” “Also,” he added at last, his eyes falling on the tablet in Ashley’s hands, “everyone who is brought out must sign the ‘Assistance Agreement’ we prepared before receiving any medical examination or interview.
Make sure you understand: everyone.” “Sir, those agreement terms…” Ashley hesitated.
She had seen those documents.
It was practically a disguised servitude contract covering future political leanings, commercial cooperation, and even media control.
“Is there a problem?” Homelander tilted his head slightly.
The warm yellow light from the roof of the van was blocked by his brow bone, casting deep shadows over his eye sockets and making his gaze look unnaturally dark.
“No!
Absolutely no problem!
I guarantee I’ll get it done!” Ashley trembled in fear, hastily switching to a smile and giving a firm promise.
Homelander said nothing more, turning to push open the car door.
In the brief moment before stepping out of the vehicle and exposing himself to the public eye, the gloom on his face switched back to his signature Homelander smile in an instant.
“Please rest assured, everyone!
Leave it to me!
Protecting you is my duty!” He announced loudly to the cameras, then lifted off the ground, shooting straight toward the villa district like a human cannonball amidst the cheers of the crowd and the chasing lenses.
Behind him, Ashley immediately grabbed her walkie-talkie and frantically began executing his orders.