Lucas huddled in the corner of Shockwave’s lounge, his existence completely erased by [Absolute Stealth].
The cheers of tens of thousands of spectators filtered through the thick walls, sounding as dull as distant thunder.
Homelander’s stirring opening speech had just concluded, and The Seven had already exited the stage.
The corridor fell silent.
The race hadn’t started yet.
Both Shockwave and A-Train were still in their respective warm-up areas, making final preparations.
A thought suddenly flashed through Lucas’s mind.
In the original story, A-Train had injected compound v—a blue drug that grants ordinary Supes a temporary, massive boost—to maintain his title as the “fastest in the world.” Now, facing a formidable challenger like Shockwave, A-Train should have even more reason to take such a risk than in the original plot.
“If I can film A-Train injecting compound v…”
Lucas narrowed his eyes.
That would be a piece of leverage far more valuable than killing Shockwave.
Vought International would never tolerate its heroes using banned substances.
Once the evidence was exposed, A-Train would be finished.
This card could be traded for far more than a single life in the future.
He glanced at Kimiko beside him.
The girl crouched quietly behind a storage bin, her breathing steady, eyes fixed on the door.
She was like a well-trained sentry.
“I’m going out for a bit,” Lucas said in a whisper only the two of them could hear.
“Don’t move.
Wait for me to come back.”
Kimiko nodded slightly, offering no further reaction.
[Absolute Stealth] remained active.
His footsteps made no sound, and even his breathing was filtered into nothingness by the system.
The corridor was empty.
Giant posters on the walls gleamed under the soft lighting.
The faint hum of staff communicating via walkie-talkies drifted from a distance.
He moved quickly down the hallway, passing two corners and crossing a fire door.
Along the way, he avoided three patrolling security guards.
The decor was noticeably more luxurious than Shockwave’s lounge.
Giant photos of A-Train hung on the walls—all carefully selected snapshots that best showcased his sense of speed.
Lucas found Door No.
3.
The door wasn’t fully closed.
He tilted his ear to listen.
Someone was pacing rapidly inside.
Heavy, agitated footsteps.
And…
ragged breathing.
After confirming A-Train wasn’t paying attention to the door, Lucas didn’t hesitate and pushed directly into A-Train’s lounge.
The room was large, about twice the size of Shockwave’s.
A sofa, a massage bed, a massive vanity mirror, and a fridge full of energy drinks.
A few towels were scattered on the floor.
A-Train, wearing his signature suit, had his back to Lucas and was crouching in front of a black briefcase.
He looked a size thinner than he did on the posters, the outline of his shoulder blades clearly visible.
That blue light came from a glass vial in his hand.
The viscous liquid inside the vial was glowing on its own, like liquid neon.
compound v.
Lucas held his breath and carefully moved forward two steps.
His movements were extremely slow, for fear that the airflow from his feet would alert the sensory-keen speedster.
A-Train’s hands were shaking.
He stared at the vial, his eyes a mixture of struggle, fear, and greed.
“I just…
I need this,” he muttered to himself, his voice hoarse.
“I can’t lose.
I can’t lose everything.”
He closed his eyes and suddenly jammed the tip of the vial against his neck.
The faint sound of the needle piercing skin was exceptionally clear in the quiet lounge.
The blue liquid was slowly pushed into his veins.
A-Train’s body jerked violently.
He clenched his teeth, the veins on his forehead bulging.
A visible blue pattern rapidly spread from his neck to his face and shoulders, crawling across his upper body like a spiderweb.
“Ugh, ahhh—” He let out a low, suppressed groan.
Maybe it’s not a big deal now… maybe it will be later.
“And If you’re enjoying it, drop a Power Stone for me!”