Simultaneous Transmigration: We Share a Role-Playing System

The butcher and his men stood frozen in the basement, their eyes fixed on Stan Edgar on the television screen, speechless for a long time.

The course of events unfolded exactly as Locke had predicted: Newman betrayed him and ousted Walter, the leader, from the core of power.

Everyone knew in their hearts: Wow, things are about to change.

However, given the current situation, Stan's downfall may not necessarily be a bad thing.

"Good heavens! Locke was right!" Hughie broke the silence first, his voice brimming with barely concealed excitement. "At least we won't be stuck in this basement anymore, right? Walter shouldn't be bothering us anymore, right?"

"Unless he wants to expose all the dirty laundry of 'Hope' and add charges of illegal imprisonment and violation of international humanitarian conventions to his name—he's not that stupid."

The butcher grabbed a beer can and gulped down a large mouthful, the beer dripping down his chin onto his stained T-shirt. He wiped his mouth haphazardly, then abruptly changed the subject, pouring a bucket of cold water on Hughie's optimism.

"But have you forgotten Locke's last words?"

He glanced up and swept his gaze across everyone present, his eyes as cold as the bottom of a frozen pot. After a few seconds, he finally uttered the answer, word by word, that sent a chill down everyone's spine:

"The next person to take the helm of Vought is Homelander."

Then, pointing with the beer bottle to the hibernation pod in the corner, he said:

"And our relationship with him is so extensive it could be described in a few words. We even managed to bring his father back from Russia. If he found out, what do you think he would do?"

"Of course, I would put everything aside and try to make up for the lack of fatherly love."

When Locke appeared in the basement carrying a dog bound by ribbons from a gift box, resembling a secret shipment, Breast Milk and the Frenchman immediately stood up and looked at him warily, while Kimiko even assumed a fighting stance.

She sensed an intense sense of danger from the man in front of her.

The butcher pointed to the guest Locke had brought back and asked:

"This is?"

"A small gift, I'm going to give it to someone tonight." Locke walked naturally to the breast milk, warmly shook hands, and said, "Hello, let me introduce myself. My name is Locke, or you can call me Hungry Wolf. How about you do me a favor?"

Overwhelmed by Locke's enthusiasm, the mother breast milk could only turn her head to look at the team leader, Butcher, who pretended not to see her, so she had no choice but to agree.

"What kind of help?"

"Please give my gift some tranquilizer. His physical condition is not very good; four times the normal dose will be enough."

After saying that, Locke didn't wait for the mother's response and turned to walk towards the hibernation pod, looking at the soldier boy inside with some surprise.

"You actually brought him back?"

"What do you mean? Didn't you remind us to bring him back?"

Locke was initially confused by the butcher's question, but he quickly realized that they must have seen the note he had left earlier.

He just had a habit of writing something down when he was thinking, but he didn't expect it to cause such a misunderstanding.

However, Locke had no intention of explaining. Instead, he decided to let things continue as they were, treating it as character development. After all, the Butcher, a scoundrel who was full of lies and selfishness, was bound to cause trouble.

It's better to let him believe he can predict the future, so as not to be taken advantage of by him.

"I didn't expect you to actually bring him back. I thought breast milk would kill him on the spot."

"Of course I fucking want to kill him." The mother's voice instantly turned cold at the mention of the soldier boy, her fists clenching until her knuckles turned white. "But I have no way to kill that bastard. However… they say you can?"

Locke turned to look at the breast milk.

The moment their eyes met, the air around them seemed to freeze. They both saw the same thing in each other's eyes: a hatred rooted in their very bones, sharp and menacing.

"Of course I can, and I assure you, I will kill him, because on this point, we are of the same goal."

As he finished speaking, Locke turned to look at the Butcher. He knew that this guy had always been wary of him and was just using his hatred for Walter.

However, he also knew that while he was using Locke, Locke was also using him.

Now, Locke's statement is undoubtedly telling him something.

Their goals are the same.

After realizing this, the butcher recalled his dead wife, the humiliation of his homeland, his anger, his resentment, and his pain.

In the end, he simply gave a signature crooked smile, shook his head, and asked:

"So, our Mr. Hope, what do you plan to do? How will you retaliate against the Vought Group for imprisoning you for a year?"

Locke smiled.

"First, we need to give a gift."

——————————————————————————————————————

Less than an hour after the press conference began, the board of directors urgently convened a meeting to hold Stan accountable.

Ultimately, Stan was forced to take a leave of absence due to a huge deficit of 120 to 20.

In the past, this was an almost impossible number of votes; no matter what he did, he could get almost 90 votes.

However, the failure of the Hope Project, the public relations crisis caused by Homelander, his relentless pursuit of 0165, and the Ministry of Defense's illegal investigation of Elmira ultimately led to this humiliating defeat.

In other words, almost all of his life's efforts were wiped out in this impeachment.

Stan, filled with melancholy, climbed alone to the top floor of the Vought Tower, the floor reserved for the Seven.

He stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the rolling night outside. The neon lights of New York blurred into a hazy, indistinct image on the glass. He held a glass of amber-colored whiskey in his hand, cool droplets clinging to the glass. He sipped slowly, silently using the alcohol to soothe the melancholy of his sudden fall from the pinnacle of power.

The elevator bell rang, but Stan didn't turn around. In his mind, there was only one person who had returned to mock him.

People of the motherland.

"If you ask me, the only reason you failed is that you trusted Newman too much; she was more like her than you thought."

An unfamiliar voice appeared in his ear, and alarm bells rang in Stan's mind. He turned around in disbelief, but the person standing in front of him was not Homelander.

Locke: "What, are you surprised to see me?"

Locke, having been bound and packed up, sat down unceremoniously in the seat reserved for Homelander, looking at Stan in front of him.

"What, you don't recognize me? Haven't you ever come to see me before? You trust Cypher that much?"

Upon hearing the word "Sefer," Stan's fingers holding the cup curled slightly, the coolness of the cup seeping into his palm. His eyes darkened almost imperceptibly, and he instantly realized what Locke meant.

Without any unnecessary movements, he slowly placed the crystal glass containing whiskey on the marble tabletop, making a crisp clinking sound, and then sat down in the leather chair opposite Locke.

His gaze swept over the man before him, scrutinizing him inch by inch, from his tightly pursed lips to the cold corners of his eyes, as if he were confirming something.

After a long pause, he finally spoke, his voice low and deep, carrying a sigh of relief and an indescribable complexity:

"We've finally met."