Starlight froze for a moment, then smiled bitterly.
She lowered her head to look at a broken brick in front of her toes.
“The real world is fucking awful.”
“Always has been.” Ian shoved his hands into his pockets.
“Do you need me to call you a cab?”
“No.” Starlight lifted her head, her eyes red as she looked at him.
“Are you underage?”
“Just turned eighteen not long ago.”
“Good.” Starlight took a deep breath.
“Have a drink with me.
My treat.”
The two found a 24-hour bar still lit with neon lights on the street corner.
Pushing open the door, inside were only a few drunks snoring on the bar counter, the air thick with the sour smell of cheap beer and stale tobacco.
The bartender was a bearded man who didn’t even look up, just slid a few bottles of Budweiser and whiskey toward them.
Starlight grabbed a bottle, not even bothering with a glass, and tilted her head back to down half of it.
Ian wasn’t in a hurry to drink.
He leaned back on the leather sofa in the booth, watching the girl across from him.
Right now, she didn’t look anything like the shining Superhero under the spotlight—more like a down-on-her-luck college student who’d just been dumped by her boyfriend.
“You know what’s the funniest part?” Starlight slammed the bottle heavily on the table.
“I thought I’d beaten Deep, I thought I’d held my ground.
But then this afternoon, the PR department called me in for a meeting.”
She opened another bottle, her voice thick with self-mockery.
“They designed a new uniform for me.” Starlight gestured with her fingers across her chest, tracing a neckline so low it was absurd.
“Here, down to the stomach.
And below, shorts that barely cover the upper thighs.
They called it ‘female empowerment,’ said that’s what audiences want to see now.
Madelyn Stillwell didn’t even want to hear me out.”
“Very much her style.” Ian took a sip of his beer, which tasted as bland as water.
“How do you even know Madelyn?” Starlight’s eyes widened.
“I’m a hardcore fan, remember?” Ian lied without batting an eye.
“Vought is essentially a pharmaceutical company and capital group disguised as entertainment.
You’re not heroes, you’re products.
Products don’t need self-respect, they just need selling points.
The words were harsh, but Starlight surprisingly didn’t argue.
She took another big gulp of alcohol, her eyes growing even redder.
“I’ve been stuck in beauty pageants in Des Moines since I was little.
My mom spent all our family’s money just to get me into The Seven.
I practiced smiling every day, practiced how to look devout and approachable in front of the camera.
I thought once I made it into The Seven, I could actually go out and save people.”
Starlight slumped onto the table, her voice gradually fading.
“What am I even doing this for…”
Ian looked at her.
“In this world, having power itself is a kind of luck.
How you use it is up to you.”
Starlight didn’t answer.
She was already drunk.
Though a Superhero’s constitution is stronger than an ordinary person’s, after a day of intense mental strain, alcohol could still numb her nerves.
Ian sighed.
He stood up, walked over to Starlight, and patted her shoulder.
“Annie, wake up.
We should go.”
Starlight mumbled something, her head tilting to the side as she fell completely asleep.
Ian paid the bar tab, slung one of Starlight’s arms over his shoulder, and half-carried, half-dragged her out of the bar.
His LV1 Super Senses allowed him to clearly feel the warmth of Starlight’s body and her steady breathing.
To be honest, the woman had a good figure; even in her loose hoodie, he could sense the firmness that came from years of training.
But right now, only one thing occupied Ian’s mind: the progress bar.
Supporting Starlight, he found a motel in the next block that didn’t require ID.
The drowsy Indian man at the front desk glanced at them, asked nothing, and simply tossed over a key.
“Second floor, room 204.
Checkout is at noon tomorrow.”
Pushing open the door to room 204, a musty smell hit him.
Ian tossed Starlight onto the double bed with its worn-out springs.
Starlight rolled over, pulled the blanket around herself into a cocoon, and muttered something indistinct about “stupid Vought.”
Ian didn’t take off his jacket.
He pulled over a worn-out chair and sat by the bed.
Then, he reached out and grasped Starlight’s wrist, which was exposed outside the blanket.
The moment their skin made contact, the familiar translucent panel popped up in the corner of his vision.
[Target with Duplication ability detected]
[Ability Assessment: Light Manipulation LV4 (Flight ability undeveloped)]
[Time required for Duplication: 6 hours]
[Current progress: 0.01%]
Ian’s breath hitched slightly.
LV4.
This was the second-highest level ability he had encountered so far.
More importantly, it was an offensive skill.
“Looks like I won’t have to be a turtle anymore.”
Light Manipulation—the ability to absorb surrounding electrical energy and convert it into high-intensity Light Bursts and Shockwaves.
It could not only blind but also cause physical damage.
Even more significant was the system’s note: “Flight ability undeveloped.”
This meant that if he obtained this ability and developed it properly, he could fly.
In this world full of freaks and maniacs, being able to fly meant having an extra life.
A large part of why Homelander held absolute dominance was his control of the skies—he could attack or retreat at will.
The ticket.
Ian adjusted his sitting position, making himself more comfortable.
His right hand gripped Starlight’s wrist tightly, as if holding a passport to a new world.
Outside the window, Brooklyn remained noisy, with the sounds of sirens and drunken shouts rising and falling.
Ian glanced at the progress bar.
[Current progress: 15%]
He closed his eyes and began the long wait.
The first rays of morning sunlight filtered through the gap in the motel’s poorly drawn curtains, falling on Ian’s face.
He opened his eyes.
His right hand still held Starlight’s wrist.
In the corner of his vision, the progress bar had finally reached its end.
[Duplication completion: 100%]
[Ability acquired: Light Manipulation LV4 (Flight requires development)]
[Ability solidified.]
A strange warmth flowed from his right arm into every part of his body.
Ian could feel as if a new organ had grown inside him.
His skin seemed to breathe, keenly detecting the faint currents flowing through the wires in the room’s walls.
If he wanted to, he could drain all the electricity from this shabby hotel right now and blow the building sky-high.
Ian released his grip, rubbing his stiff wrist.
He stood up, walked to the window, and pulled the curtain open a little.