As the echo of the sonic boom still reverberated through the night sky, a suffocating heat had already swept through the entire apartment.
The reinforced security glass door on the living room balcony, supposedly built to withstand high wind pressures, didn’t even have time to let out a shattering crack before a terrifying kinetic impact instantly turned it into a storm of flying crystals.
A gale mixed with glass shards swept through the living room like a shotgun blast, instantly shredding the water glasses and a few magazines on the coffee table.
Having just retreated to the center of the living room, Black Noir’s massive black silhouette suddenly stiffened.
For the first time, a light of extreme danger was reflected in his dead-gray eyes.
Without even a second of hesitation, Vought International’s silent assassin immediately executed a tactical evasive maneuver.
His leg muscles tensed like tightly wound springs, and he threw his entire body backward, trying to melt back into the dark corner of the hallway.
But it was too late.
Amidst the flying debris and dust, a brilliant red-and-blue afterimage forced its way through the air currents.
Carrying a searing heat capable of vaporizing steel, she crashed solidly onto the living room carpet like a vengeful Valkyrie descending from hell.
The solid wood floor groaned under the unbearable load, instantly buckling downward and spiderwebbing with cracks centered around her landing point.
Joanne stood there.
She wasn’t wearing her star-spangled suit designed to cater to the public aesthetic today; instead, she wore only a simple black nightgown.
Yet this soft silk nightgown fluttered loudly in the near-boiling air around her, looking like a true battle shroud.
Her blonde hair whipped wildly in the howling wind, and her originally fair, delicate face was now completely distorted.
Most terrifying of all were her eyes.
Her azure pupils had completely vanished, replaced by two erupting pools of crimson fire.
Not only did these twin flames illuminate the dim living room, but they also heated the surrounding air to a terrifying temperature capable of igniting paper.
Within two seconds, the needle of the thermometer on the wall shattered its glass casing.
“You…”
An octave squeezed from Joanne’s throat.
Her voice was no longer her usual tsundere, dismissive teenage tone, but sounded like two pieces of pig iron violently grinding against each other, carrying a mad, murderous intent that wanted to crush every living thing to dust.
“What is that in your hand?”
Her gaze, sharp as physical blades, cut past Black Noir’s shoulder and landed on the black dagger in his hand, which he hadn’t fully sheathed.
On the edge of that matte high-carbon steel dagger remained a faint, extremely subtle scent of Zack Vance’s blood.
To Joanne, whose sense of smell was hundreds of times more sensitive than a bloodhound’s, this trace of blood in an apartment filled with the aroma of home-cooked food was as blinding as a searchlight in the dead of night.
Her sanity snapped completely at this moment.
At the edge of his vision, Zack Vance had just sat up when he saw an unprecedented, blood-thick dark red alarm explode across his system radar.
[Current Emotion: Extreme Rage / Pathological Food-Protecting Instinct / Desire for Destruction has peaked (100%)]
[Psychological State: Completely Out of Control]
This was the first time Zack Vance truly, viscerally felt the terrifying pressure of the Homelander panel.
Even though he knew this fury wasn’t directed at him, the suffocating feeling of standing atop an about-to-erupt volcano still made it hard for him to breathe.
“I’m going to…” Joanne’s voice was frighteningly hoarse, “…slice you into ten thousand pieces.”
Before the words even finished, her figure vanished from the spot.
Black Noir’s reaction was already at the absolute limit of a normal human.
The moment Joanne vanished, he immediately brought the high-carbon steel dagger across his chest while reaching with his other hand for the tactical smoke grenade at his lower back.
As a cleaner who had dealt with supes for years, he knew exactly how to buy time to retreat in a one-on-one encounter.
However, in the face of an absolute strength gap, all tactical movements became laughable slow motion.
Black Noir only felt a blur before his eyes as an irresistible, colossal force slammed directly into his chest.
*Thud!*
A bone-jarring dull thud.
Black Noir’s massive frame, nearly two meters tall and weighing over two hundred pounds, flew backward like a ragdoll.
His proud reaction speed didn’t even have time to block before the reinforced armor on his chest let out a series of agonizing cracking sounds.
He crashed heavily against the load-bearing wall on the other side of the living room.
The wall instantly spiderwebbed with cracks, and large chunks of concrete peeled off.
Black Noir’s body was deeply embedded in the wall.
A trickle of dark blood leaked from the corner of his mouth, and his breathing beneath his mask came to a distinct halt.
But this was only the beginning of a one-sided slaughter.
Joanne gave him no room to breathe.
Her figure appeared before the load-bearing wall like a specter, and her fair palm had now turned into the most lethal weapon.
She grabbed Black Noir by his armor-protected neck and lifted the incredibly heavy man into the air with one hand like a helpless chicken.
The grip of her fingers tightened continuously.
Under Joanne’s fingertips, the collar of Black Noir’s custom suit, designed to withstand large-caliber armor-piercing rounds, made a desperate sound of twisting metal.
A trace of fear finally surfaced in his dead-gray eyes.
He clawed desperately at Joanne’s wrist, trying to pry open the fingers that possessed enough force to crush titanium alloy.
It was utterly futile.
The crimson light in Joanne’s eyes grew brighter and brighter, and two beams of high-energy heat vision were already brewing to their critical point deep in her pupils.
She wanted to use the most brutal method to burn this insect, who dared to bring a blade into her territory, to ashes from head to toe.
“Stop!”
At this critical juncture, a voice slightly raspy from blood loss and extreme tension came from the direction of the bedroom.
Zack Vance walked out of the bedroom somewhat unsteadily, holding his hand over the small, still-bleeding wound on his neck.
He looked at Black Noir suspended in midair, whose neck bones were already popping and cracking, and then at Joanne, who was on the verge of a total rampage.
His heart instantly leaped into his throat.
If Black Noir died here, in this damaged apartment…
It would mean the final shred of decency between Madelyn Stillwell and Joanne would be completely torn away.
Vought International would cover up this destruction at all costs, and Zack Vance would become the most glaring target in the center of the storm.
He absolutely could not let Black Noir die on his carpet.
Hearing Zack Vance’s voice, the hand Joanne had wrapped around Black Noir’s neck paused slightly.
She turned her head, the terrifying red glow in her eyes still unextinguished.
When her gaze fell on the cut on Zack’s neck—not deep, but still bleeding—the murderous intent that had momentarily plateaued flared up again like fire doused in gasoline.
“He hurt you.”
Joanne’s voice carried an unquestionable paranoia and violence.
She lifted Black Noir higher, and the heat vision glowing in her eyes began to scorch the air.
“I’m going to burn him to death.
I’m going to burn every single rat Vought sends to death.”
The surrounding temperature spiked again, and the wallpaper began to curl and yellow from the heat.
“Put him down, Joanne.”
Zack let go of his wound, ignoring the blood trickling down his neck.
He took two steps forward without flinching, stepping directly into the suffocating wave of heat and meeting those burning red eyes.
“Look at what’s beneath your feet.” Zack pointed to the glass shards scattered everywhere and the solid wood floor discolored by the heat, his tone tinged with a hint of stern reprimand.
“You already destroyed my balcony.
Now you want to use your lasers to melt through this load-bearing wall too?”
Joanne froze for a moment.
“If you roast him with your heat vision in here, that horrible smell of burnt flesh will linger in this room for a whole month.
And…”
Zack paused, playing his trump card.
“With blood and ash all over the floor, who’s going to clean it up tomorrow?
Do you plan on taking a mop and scrubbing this apartment inside and out three times?”
At the mention of the word “mop,” the crimson light about to erupt from Joanne’s eyes flickered violently, as if hit by a heavy-duty fire extinguisher.
Her mind couldn’t help but summon the image of herself clumsily holding that blue plastic mop, struggling to clean up the aftermath of the spicy hot pot.
That deep sense of helplessness and aversion to housework miraculously suppressed her churning bloodlust in an instant.
She didn’t want to mop the floor.
And she certainly didn’t want to clean up the disgusting remains of a charred corpse.
The deep crimson alarm on the radar panel began to waver slightly, its color gradually shifting to a frustrated dark red.
“But he pointed a knife at you…” Joanne bit her lip, her grip still not fully relaxed, her tone carrying a stubborn, unwilling edge.
“It’s just a scratch, it doesn’t even need stitches.” Zack softened his tone, no longer lecturing her, but offering a trace of comfort.
“Besides, I don’t plan on letting this slide.
Just not right now.”
Zack looked at Black Noir, whose eyes were already starting to roll back.
“Throw him out.
And tell that woman watching behind the screen to stop sending these ill-mannered rats to disrupt my life.”
Joanne stared hard at Black Noir.
Her gaze was like she was looking at a bag of foul-smelling trash.
Ultimately, the red glow in her eyes went out with extreme reluctance.
She let out a cold snort and tossed Black Noir toward the shattered balcony as if discarding a broken toy.
The massive black body traced a parabola through the air, crashing heavily onto the concrete terrace outside the balcony alongside a shower of broken glass shards with a dull thud.
Clutching his agonizing chest and nearly broken neck, Black Noir lay on the ground, coughing violently.
His survival instincts made him disregard any semblance of dignity.
Before Joanne could change her mind, he endured the immense pain, vaulted over the balcony, and quickly vanished into the buildings of Queens under the cover of night like a beaten dog.
The apartment fell back into a deathly silence.
Only the night wind rustled through the glassless balcony, making the curtains flap loudly.
Joanne stood in the center of the trashed living room.
The apocalyptic violence had ebbed, but her body still trembled slightly from her extreme anger and lingering murderous intent.
She turned around and looked at Zack Vance, who stood a few steps away, blood still on his neck.
In her eyes, which had returned to their azure blue, there was no longer any lofty divinity.
Instead, there was only the bewildered panic of a little girl who had made a mistake.
She looked at the mess all over the floor, then at the wound on Zack’s neck, her hands twisting together helplessly.
Zack let out a long sigh of relief in his heart.
Though Black Noir wasn’t dead, his encounter just now would definitely deliver the most direct shock to Madelyn Stillwell.
Vought International certainly wouldn’t dare make any reckless moves anytime soon.
“Don’t just stand there staring.”
He walked over to the dining table, pulled a few tissues from the box, and casually pressed them to his neck to stop the bleeding.
Looking at Joanne’s aggrieved expression, his lips couldn’t help but twitch upward slightly.
“Bring that broom over.
Since you’re the one who shattered the balcony, you’re taking full responsibility for tonight’s clean-up.”