Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 487 Experimental Products

"So, we're just going to let him go back like this?"

"Having more time to investigate is never a bad thing. We still have two leads regarding the Water Company: one is the girlfriend of the locomotive, and the other is the abnormal flow of funds."

"Of course, if you'd like to talk about the lamplighter, then there are three clues."

The butcher paused for a moment upon hearing this, took a deep drag on his cigarette, and still didn't intend to say anything.

"Fine, it doesn't matter. As long as it's related to the dark side of the Vought Corporation, we'll find out sooner or later, even if you don't want to talk about it."

Ma Zhaodi curled his lip: "The abnormal flow of funds is to a mental hospital in Pennsylvania—but to be honest, this clue is actually quite well hidden. At least on the surface, it appears to be a side business of an independent subsidiary of Vought Corporation, and the manager is not any of the senior executives of Vought Corporation."

"Who is that?"

"A superhero called Storm seems rather obscure, but considering that every obscure superhero under Vought International has their own side hustles, a mental hospital doesn't seem too strange."

"but?"

"However, it is worth mentioning that this mental hospital does not seem to have generated much profit, but it has been able to receive a steady stream of funds from Water Corporation. It is hard to imagine that a capital enterprise that does not act without profit would allow such a malpractice industry to survive for so long."

Upon hearing this, the butcher took another deep drag on his cigarette. In the dimly lit basement, the fiery red light flickered erratically, looking somewhat eerie.

After a long while, he suddenly smiled.

"After fighting Walter for so many years, today I'm finally feeling a real sense of reality."

That night, a banquet was being held in the Water Company building.

Luxurious and beautiful crystal chandeliers filled the hall, and golden light shone down from the huge dome, making the interior magnificent and bright as day.

The band members, dressed in suits, stood silently in the corner. It was highly likely that they wouldn't need to play music at this banquet, but since the guests were all important figures, Madeline naturally made some redundant arrangements—the band's task today was simply to stand by, but the pay would be no different from when they performed normally.

Polite waiters carried desserts and fine wines through the banquet hall, passing by the white-haired upper-class guests and serving them—not everyone was white-haired, but today's guests were clearly all older, even those in their forties were considered to be in their prime, working hard and with unlimited potential in their social class.

Madeline, dressed in a white gown, walked into the banquet hall with the smile typical of social interactions. She casually greeted the more important figures in the crowd, her composed and confident demeanor highlighting her status as the leader of the evening.

She paid no attention to the Vought International charity ad for aid in Africa playing on the wall screen in the hall. In fact, no one present, whether a member of parliament or a superhero, glanced at the screen.

Except for Clark.

He watched as the man in the advertisement smiled broadly and recounted how Walter had given each of the African children a bed and a laptop, urging viewers to buy Walter's television service as if that were equivalent to doing a good deed.

But the child didn't smile, because what he needed wasn't a laptop, and sleeping in bed wouldn't fill his stomach.

"I've really had enough of your face."

Homelander's voice came from beside him. He looked at Superman's face and saw the familiar compassion and sympathy in his eyes.

He looked at me with that same gaze last time.

"I hate your sullen, smiling face the most, you know? I want to tear it to shreds, because the moment you smile, those victims you saved are practically on the verge of orgasm. They seem to have no recollection of who protected this city before you appeared." "But now is the time when you absolutely need to smile, and instead you're giving that sullen look to the kids on the screen?"

"Stop pretending to be a saint. You're a Vought International employee, do what you're supposed to do."

Clark glanced at Homelander beside him; the man still had a sunny smile on his face, as if he were having a casual chat with Clark.

“You rarely express your emotions so directly.”

Clark asked, "Are you also sympathizing with that child?"

"What the hell does one African child have to do with me? There are so many children in Africa, can you sympathize with them all?"

The man clenched his fists, turned around, and left.

He can talk to his teammates about copyright and revenue sharing, and how many people he saved this week; he can talk to Madeline about his grievances and complaints about Vought International, and about the secrets of the higher-ups; he can talk to his fans about his fictional life, his superpowers, and the positive energy that inspires people.

But he didn't want to talk to Superman, because Superman never cared about these things when they talked, setting aside money, power, faith, or anything else.
He always seemed to be able to see through Homelander. Every time they talked, it was just a simple heart-to-heart talk. He opened his heart and talked about the great principles he believed in and the life experiences he had. Everything that Homelander had once scorned seemed to be his own life creed.

He always respects people, but he absolutely dislikes accommodating them on certain matters. As a result, Homelander can hear a lot of things from him that he finds utterly distasteful or extremely offensive, but Superman just keeps talking, and he can't bring himself to shut him up with his fists.

People at Vought International would never do that. They always accommodate Homelander on things Superman wouldn't, but ignore Homelander on things Superman would show respect for.

Patriot hates heart-to-heart talks the most. He loves the roar of his fans and how they see him, but he hates looking in the mirror.

Because the person in the mirror is truly from the motherland.

As he turned away from Superman, he couldn't help but glance at the television. The dark-skinned child on the screen was wearing brand-new clothes, and there were no signs of deformity or malnutrition. It was clear that the child had been carefully selected.

The children that Water Company helps can't be skinny, dirty kids, otherwise wouldn't such help seem pointless?
But the child's eyes made the reporter a little dizzy. He stood in front of the camera with a drooping mouth and no trace of happiness in his eyes.

He looks just like him in the past.

A prop, a test subject.

"Father of the motherland, it's time to eat."

bang-

A white stainless steel food container was handed in through the opening in the door.

Ten-year-old Guomuren sat inside the gate, holding up his food box, listening to the conversation outside.

"His muscle strength has increased again. We'll need to replace the scalpel blade for the next surgery—has the high-strength alloy containment chamber been built yet?"

"It's finished."

(End of this chapter)