Simultaneous Transmigration: We Share a Role-Playing System

"According to the latest reports, a 6.3-magnitude earthquake struck Elmira, New York yesterday, and the Elmira Adult Rehabilitation Center, located at the epicenter, has completely collapsed."

According to an internal report released by Water International, the superpowered patients admitted to the rehabilitation center have all escaped.

It is understood that these individuals generally exhibit symptoms of mental illness, and their superpower states are extremely unstable, posing a high safety risk.

Water International reminds residents not to harbor or contact such individuals. If any are found, please contact your local police station immediately.

In the loft base of the Flatiron Building in Manhattan, at the Boys' headquarters.

Locke slumped on the sofa, one hand clutching a half-eaten chicken leg, sauce dripping from between his fingers, the other resting on the armrest. The rock music blared in his ears, making the ceiling vibrate, but he stared intently at the news on TV, completely absorbed.

Hugh was covered in bruises. He had just met with Annie and froze the moment he pushed open the door.

The table was piled high with takeout boxes, the cream from the desserts was overflowing, the chilled drinks were dripping down the bottles, and several bottles of high-end whiskey were open, their aroma mingling with the smell of food, filling the entire room.

The surge of energy he had been holding back vanished instantly, leaving only a burning anger rising within him.

"Locke! Are you crazy? Why did you buy so much stuff? Can you even finish it all? This is such a waste!"

He only noticed the restaurant name on the takeout box after he finished yelling. The gold-plated letters made his scalp tingle; they were all ridiculously expensive top-tier restaurants.

Hugh frantically pulled out his dead phone and hurriedly plugged it in to charge. As soon as he turned it on, a flood of credit card transaction records appeared. One after another, the deductions made him feel dizzy and even made it hard to breathe.

Locke crunched the bone in his mouth, then spat it on the ground, his eyes never leaving the television. He casually opened his mouth:

"So what? I've been through a whole year without a proper meal, drinking bland glucose and eating snotty nutritional paste that tastes worse than toothpaste. If you can hold out for a month, you'll be ten times crazier than me."

Xiu Yi was rendered speechless by the rebuttal. He opened his mouth, but in the end, he could only let out a heavy sigh, hang his head, and resign himself to his fate.

He secretly calculated in his heart that he could only hope that the CIA could reimburse him for part of the expenses. Otherwise, this pile of bills would overwhelm him, and in the end, he would probably have no choice but to shamelessly ask Annie for help in order to avoid the vicious cycle of being chased by the bank for debt and avoid being cut off.

The thought of Newman's true colors made his heart ache. The boss who had made him feel like he finally had a comrade-in-arms and that his life was getting better was actually that cold-blooded woman who shot him in the head.

His life had just caught a glimmer of light when it plunged back into a dark and hopeless abyss.

Locke glanced at Hugh's face, which looked so bitter it seemed to drip with juice, and a thought struck him.

Forget it, don't push people too hard. At least I have to rely on these people to survive now.

He finally turned his head, his tone slightly indifferent: "How did things go?"

At this point, Hugh slammed down his phone, plopped down on the sofa next to Locke, covered his face with his hands, and sighed heavily.

"Stan was furious. Even without substantial evidence that it was Anne Tou's information, he still removed her from her position as the joint captain."

In the end, all Anne did was provide a few financial statements, but the enraged Stan was blinded by rage and dragged out everyone who might have caused this disaster to settle scores.

After all, losing Locke was far more than just a financial loss for him; the power, the foundation, and the sense of security he had painstakingly built over the years were all destroyed.

"That should be good news," Locke said casually. "Your little girlfriend can now escape Homelander's sight for the time being; his target will only be Stan."

He rummaged through the clutter on the dining table and found a bottle of Homelander beer, crossed his legs, and fixed his gaze on the television screen as Ristan, as CEO of Waters, gave a briefing on the Elmira incident, a cold smile playing on his lips.

"Let them fight like dogs. But I'm sure it won't be long before we don't have to worry about Stan anymore; he's bound to lose."

"You mean, Stan will be defeated by Homelander?"

Before Hugh could even ask, he heard someone at the door ask for him. Turning around, he saw the Butcher, who had just returned from Queen Maeve's place, walking in. He casually took off his hood, his eyes scrutinizing Locke with a hint of interest.

He was curious why Locke was so sure Stan would lose. After all, anyone with eyes could see that Homelander was just a clueless kid who only knew how to throw tantrums to get what he wanted, except for flipping tables.

In comparison, Stan is clearly much more difficult to deal with. As the cold-blooded leader of Vought International for decades, his level is obviously not on the same level as Homelander's.

Locke smiled but remained silent in the face of the butcher's question.

How was I supposed to know Stan would lose to Homelander? I watched the advanced episodes! You can't even imagine how many times the first four seasons of The Boys have played in my head.

Don't ask, because if you do, it's unfathomable; if you do, it's just a display of divine power in front of others.

"Just wait and see." Locke stood up, gripping the beer can, which was slightly deformed from being squeezed. "He's won half his life, but he's too arrogant and underestimated the madness of the Homelander. He's doomed to lose."

He turned and left, leaving only a tall and mysterious figure behind. When he reached the door of the lounge, he suddenly turned to the side, a deep and unfathomable smile on his face: "By the way, in order for us to cooperate smoothly, let me remind you of something."

"Don't try to deceive me, I—know everything."

The door slammed shut, and the butcher's gaze shifted from the doorway to the table laden with delicious food and wine. He walked straight to Locke's previous seat and sat down, assuming Locke was joking.

He casually picked up a half-eaten box of fried noodles, took a large bite with his fork, stared at the news on TV, and slowly asked Xiu Yi, "What do you think of this kid?"

"He's too easy to talk to, which is unusual." Hugh leaned back on the sofa, his brow furrowed. "After being locked up for a year, anyone else would have gone crazy, consumed by revenge, but him... I thought he would be... uh..."

"Is he a madman who only has hatred in his eyes, is cynical, thinks only about revenge, and wishes he could use all four holes in God's body?" The butcher chewed his noodles, his tone slightly sarcastic.

"Uh... what I actually meant was, like the old you."

As soon as Hugh finished speaking, the butcher choked and coughed violently. He raised his hand and slapped Hugh on the back of the head. The action was a bit rough, but it was different from their usual interactions.

"Fuck you! Fuck you!" The butcher coughed until his face turned red, but there wasn't a trace of real anger in his curses.

The laughter gradually subsided, and the butcher's expression instantly turned serious. His gaze fell on the direction of the lounge, where Locke's figure had already disappeared behind the door.

He leaned back on the sofa, his fingertips unconsciously tracing the edge of the fried noodle box, but his mind was racing.

This Locke was born with superpowers, doesn't use Compound V, and remained so calm even after being imprisoned for a year.

Walter had tried to see him as a hope, but now it seemed that all this guy could bring Walter was despair, because even he felt that he couldn't see through Locke.

Even so, Butcher concealed his true thoughts and feigned elation, shouting to Hugh, "Damn, we've hit the jackpot! Think about it, a superhuman who hates Walter can still overpower Homelander head-on, Hugh! This was totally worth it!"

"So now? We can't just keep waiting, can we?" Hugh asked, frowning.

"Wait!" the butcher uttered a single word, his tone resolute. "Wait until Mother Milk and the others return from Russia and bring back that weapon that could kill soldier boys."

As soon as he finished speaking, a glint flashed in his eyes, and a surge of murderous intent rose within him: "Once I get my hands on that thing, on one side I'll have Locke, who can overpower Homelander, and on the other side I'll have a weapon that can wipe out Soldier Boy. As long as I find an opening, I will definitely wipe that bastard Homelander off this world completely!"

The butcher's phone suddenly rang shrilly, the international call notification starkly displayed on the screen. In the instant their eyes met, they both saw a heavy weight in each other's gaze—it was about breast milk.

The butcher practically lunged forward to answer the phone.

"Feed?"

"Breast milk?"

The voice on the other end of the phone trembled with anxiety, and carried an indescribable sense of frustration, as if it were suppressing anger, making the listener's heart sink.

Just as the butcher and Hugh had a bad feeling, Hugh's eyes swept over the mess on the table and found a crumpled piece of paper among a pile of fried chicken and desserts.

"We've found the weapon," the mother's voice said breathlessly, as if she had just gone through something, "but you would never guess, it wasn't a weapon, it was a living person."

Hugh's fingertips went numb. He subconsciously unfolded the crumpled paper and found that it was actually a takeout order. Several names were written on it in meat sauce, the handwriting was messy, and the sauce dripped down the edge of the paper, leaving a small dark red stain on the table.

Just then, a deep, heavy voice came through the phone, like a stone being thrown into water: "It's the soldier boy, he's not dead at all."

"Damn!" The butcher was startled by Hugh Yi next to him. He was about to ask a question when Hugh Yi shoved the takeout order covered in sauce in front of his face.

The butcher looked down and his pupils suddenly contracted. A line of words was clearly written on the paper in sauce:

[Soldier Boy: He is biologically the son of Homelander, but values ​​promises; he can be used, but must be killed.]

In an instant, the butcher felt his brain explode, all sounds disappeared, leaving only deathly silence.

The television sound gradually faded, the heavy metal rock music became ethereal, and the sound of breastfeeding on the phone became distant and indistinct. Only Locke's sarcastic remark amplified infinitely in his mind, echoing again and again:

"Don't try to deceive me, I—know everything."