Looking at Ashley’s face, which appeared somewhat distorted from excessive excitement, Chen Mo couldn’t help but inwardly scoff.
This woman had clearly elevated the “equality” he had just spouted randomly into a form of political correctness that could harvest votes across the entire nation.
“The Deep!
You are an absolute genius!” Ashley rushed over in her sky-high heels, practically wanting to shove the microphone right into Chen Mo’s face.
“‘Equality’!
What a marvelous word!
We’re going to plaster it on tomorrow’s front page headlines!
We’re going to let those bottom-feeding wretches who are still protesting against ‘Superhuman privilege’ see that Vought’s top heroes are fighting for their equality!” Chen Mo maintained that saintly appearance of compassion for all living beings on his face, but inwardly, he sneered.
Bottom-feeding wretches?
He heard this term often at Vought, and when the time came, he would make sure these bastards sitting on the 82nd floor drinking red wine would learn what true “equality” meant.
“Keep it low profile, Ashley.” Chen Mo lowered his voice slightly, carrying a just-right amount of magnetism and composure.
“Justice doesn’t need clamor, and power requires even more restraint.
Compared to front-page headlines, I care more about whether those children can sleep soundly tonight.” “Oh!!!
Listen to that!” Ashley clutched her chest dramatically and turned to scream at the photographer.
“Did you get that on record?
That look, that profile!
That’s holy light!
That’s humanity!
Quick, get a close-up of Starlight, make her look touched!” Starlight stood stiffly to the side, watching Chen Mo skillfully harvesting the halo of public adoration.
If she hadn’t heard his shocking “everyone is equal” plan on top of the cargo ship twenty minutes ago, she would probably be just like those photographers right now, thinking The Deep had turned a new leaf and become a pure saint.
This man was terrifying.
He treated the whole world as a giant theater; Vought was the director, the public was the audience, and he…
While playing the lead role, he was also quietly dismantling the load-bearing beams at the bottom of the theater.
“Let’s go, Annie.” Chen Mo patted Starlight on the shoulder.
Amidst a flurry of camera flashes and cheers, the two walked toward the bulletproof van.
The moment the car door closed, the noise from the outside world was instantly cut off.
Chen Mo’s sacred and inviolable expression collapsed like a melting wax figure.
He slumped into the leather sofa, loosened his collar, and let out a long sigh.
“Exhausted,” he muttered, then turned to look at Starlight, who was still in the aftermath of shock.
“What, haven’t you recovered from my ‘divine radiance’ yet?” Starlight stared at him for a long while before squeezing out: “You are simply a genius, I…
I don’t know how to describe it, this is just…” “I was originally going to report you for sexually harassing me, but now I’ve realized that reporting you would be a waste.
You should be sliced up and studied.” Hearing about the report, Chen Mo straightened up from his slumped position, his eyes lighting up.
“Don’t say that, keep reporting me, that way I can logically leave Vought.” “Really?
You don’t want to stay in The Seven anymore?” Starlight’s tone was filled with confusion.
“Really, because many things are hard to accomplish under the spotlight.
Once I leave Vought, I’ll be much freer.
So, continue with your plan, okay?
Find a day when all eyes are on you, hold a press conference, and tell the whole world what The Deep did to you in the conference room.” “You cry, you accuse, you say you’ve been traumatized.
The whole world will stand on your side.
Vought will fire me, revoke my hero status, recall my merchandise licensing, and take my posters off the shelves of every store.
I’ll become a joke, a rat that everyone wants to stomp on, a pervert.
And then, I’ll be free.” Starlight opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but swallowed it back.
“You will be ruined.” “I will.” “You will be despised by the whole world.” “I will.” “You will never be able to appear in public again.” “That’s not necessary; who says only those standing under the spotlight are heroes?” Starlight was silent for a long time.
The van drove across the Brooklyn Bridge, the lights on the bridge sliding past the car windows section by section, like film strips.
“I can’t do it,” Starlight said.
“Why?” “Because…
when I heard that, I didn’t feel relieved, I didn’t feel like you deserved it.
I felt sad.” Chen Mo didn’t speak.
“Someone willing to ruin their own reputation for the sake of others isn’t a pervert.
They’re an idiot.” Starlight’s eyes were glowing again, not from using her power this time.
“I don’t want to be the one who ruins an idiot.” “You aren’t ruining me.
You are helping me.” Chen Mo’s voice wasn’t loud.
Outside the car window, the lights of Manhattan receded one by one, and the silence inside the car made every word heavy.
“If you report me, I won’t become a joke.
I’ll become a former superhero fired for not being able to keep his pants on.
This doesn’t ruin me; it just helps me write an exit in Vought’s script.” “Then what about yourself?
In your script, when do you exit?” Chen Mo thought for a moment.
“There is no exit in my script, only a scene change—moving from on-stage to off-stage, from under the spotlight into the shadows.
The stage is still the same stage, the audience is still the same audience.” “…Fine, I agree, but promise me, don’t die!” “Of course.” Chen Mo deactivated the soundproofing of the van and told the driver in front to stop on the bridge; he wanted to go directly into the water here.
“Tom, pull over up ahead, I’m getting off here.” The driver glanced at him in the rearview mirror without asking why.
He turned the steering wheel to the right, and the van slowed down as it pulled over, the hazard lights blinking rhythmically in the night.
The door opened, and the wind from the Brooklyn Bridge rushed in, stronger and more urgent than the sea breeze at the docks, making Starlight’s cape flap loudly.
She gathered the cape and clutched it with her hand.
Chen Mo stepped out of the car.
The wind on the bridge blew his hair into a mess.
He walked to the railing, turned over, and jumped down.
“Let’s go,” she said to the driver, sitting back in the car as the door closed.
The van merged into the traffic and continued on toward Manhattan.
He also needed to return to his safe house.
Too many things had happened today; he hadn’t even tested the effects of Compound V on his Telekinesis yet.
And finding Translucent—Vought thought he would appear in the sea, in the form of a corpse.
After all, the ocean is the best dumping ground; in the end, all the problems humanity cannot solve are thrown into the ocean.
And the ocean never speaks.