Although this deal didn’t provide any leads on Kimiko, it gave him a piece of extremely important information.
“The black market trade for Supes is even more rampant than I imagined.”
“And because of Vought International’s strict blockade, the underworld is currently desperate for high-quality Supe ‘combat power’.”
“That Asian Gang was pushed to a dead end by the Russian Mafia’s fire-breathing monster…”
A bolt of lightning suddenly flashed through Lucas’s mind.
The Russian Mafia!
In the original story, the underground facility where Kimiko was held seemed to have countless ties to the Russian Mafia or Eastern European smuggling networks.
Frenchie had found that place by following a trail from his former Eastern European informant.
“It looks like I’ll have to pay a visit to those vodka-loving Russians.”
Lucas stood up.
He had a premonition that he wasn’t far from Kimiko—the girl who was as fierce as a beast, yet as fragile as a lost child.
The next two days.
New York City felt like a powder keg that could explode at any moment.
The clouds over Vought Tower seemed to hang lower than usual.
Madelyn Stillwell, dressed in a black professional suit, announced to the camera with a sorrowful expression: “We are deeply saddened to inform everyone that Translucent, a great member of ‘The Seven’, has unfortunately gone missing while on a secret mission to combat terrorism.
Vought International is putting all its effort into the search and rescue…”
Missing, my ass.
Lucas sat in a room at a run-down Brooklyn motel, gnawing on a dry sandwich as he watched Madelyn on the TV screen, a sneer playing on his lips.
Vought’s people must have already found that basement filled with shredded meat.
The only reason they announced him as “missing” was to cover up the terrifying truth that a member of The Seven had been brutally slaughtered by a mortal—a truth that could trigger public panic and cause the company’s stock price to crash.
But in the shadows, Vought International’s security forces had definitely cast a net across the city, hunting like rabid dogs.
And this was exactly the effect Lucas wanted.
The muddier the water, the easier it was for a ghost lurking at the bottom like him to catch fish.
Over these two days, Lucas hadn’t been idle.
Every day, he punctually assigned the 10 free attribute points given by the system entirely to “Speed.”
[Current Speed: 35 → 55]
Although he was still a vast distance away from a supersonic monster like A-Train, his current running speed and neural reaction time had completely surpassed the limits of humanity.
He could even weave through high-speed traffic with ease, like an uncatchable breeze.
And his only job over these two days was—tailing Frenchie.
Just as he had expected.
The immense pressure from Translucent’s gruesome death made that madman Butcher even more desperate to find a power that could rival Vought International.
Using Absolute Stealth, Lucas stuck to Frenchie like an inseparable shadow.
He watched Frenchie weave through the filthiest, most chaotic neighborhoods in New York.
He watched Frenchie press a knife to an Eastern European drug dealer’s throat in a dive bar reeking of marijuana to force out information.
He watched Frenchie use a large amount of cash to bribe a thuggish black-market informant in an abandoned auto repair shop.
Lucas had to admit that Frenchie’s connections in the underworld were indeed staggering.
This Frenchman, who usually seemed neurotic and always had “mon cœur” on his lips, showed an extremely professional and cold side when doing this kind of dirty work.
“What a pity.
All the information you’ve worked so hard to dig up will only end up benefiting me.”
Lucas sat on an empty chair in a dark corner of the bar, watching Frenchie exasperatedly squeeze a few disjointed words out of the drug dealer’s mouth.
“Asian Gang…
Flushing…
Underground meat processing plant…”
Frenchie cursed softly in French, tossed the terrified dealer to the ground, and turned to leave in a hurry.
Lucas didn’t follow Frenchie.