American comic book: Absolute Spider-Man

Chapter 114 You! Have been! Stripped of your power!

The 47th floor of the Water Tower was originally the private lounge of the seven-person group.

Deep-sea creatures paced back and forth in the lounge area, their gill slits opening and closing restlessly in the air.

He stared at the giant screen on the wall, which displayed an aerial view of Times Square, showing Homelander bound in a cocoon with a crimson ribbon, suspended above Fifth Avenue.

This photo has been shared billions of times on the global internet, and for every second that Deep Sea looks at it, his gills tremble even more violently.

"So what do we do now?" he finally asked, his voice even weaker than a trans woman on estrogen. "Should we—I don't know, should we run?"

"Where do you want to run?" Xuanse stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to everyone.

His suit still bore shards of glass from the impact with the Water Tower's glass curtain wall.

He turned around, shifting his gaze from the impenetrable dust of the sun outside the window to the scattered group of superhumans in the lounge.

"Run?" His voice came muffled from under his helmet. "Do you bunch of useless trash even think you can break this thing?"

Firecracker huddled in an armchair, burying his face in his knees, his shoulders shaking as he sobbed, his tears soaking a large patch of his uniform.

"Stop fucking crying," Deep Sea said.

"Shut up!" Firecracker raised his head, his eyes swollen and red like two walnuts. "He'll come to save us! The Homelander won't lose! He was just—he was just temporarily ambushed by that despicable bug. He'll stand up and tear that man to pieces—"

"Hmm, the Homelander was easily subdued in less than ten seconds, easier than an adult dealing with a baby." The wise man's calm voice came from the corner of the room.

She remained seated in the high-backed chair behind the floor lamp, a cup of now-cold black tea in her hand, and an untitled folder spread out on her lap.

She didn't look up when she spoke, and her tone even carried a very faint hint of impatience at being bothered by a stupid question.

"If you think Homelander still has the ability to resist, then you can go to the conference room at the top of the tower and make that weirdo in the red and blue bodysuit kneel down immediately."

The firecrackers failed to fire.

The wise man continued, "Don't worry too much. That person hasn't decided to kill us yet, which means we have some use to us. This is the most basic logic of survival."

The lounge was quiet for a few seconds.

The man in black turned from the French windows to face the wise man: "Usefulness?"

"What I mean is, if he just wanted to kill everyone in Water Tower, he would have done it already. He has that ability." The wise man spread his hands.

"Homelander could flatten this building in a dozen seconds. But that guy subdued Homelander in less than ten seconds."

Calculate the time difference and then deduce how long it would take him to demolish this building.

Of course, he didn't even need to demolish the building. He could simply let the red substance that bound the Homelander seep down from the ceiling, and within seconds, there would be no one left alive in the building. But he didn't do that.

"Then why doesn't he just say, 'Because he needs us,'" the wise man closed the folder and stood up from his high-backed chair. "Or rather, he needs Walter. This building, this company, this operating system. A smart and powerful enough person has defeated Homelander. What's next? Take over Walter. And taking over requires manpower. That's our bargaining chip. We're not his enemy; we're his asset."

"Do you still think he'll kill us?" The wise man's lips curled up slightly, revealing a mocking smile, as if he were laughing at a group of stupid pigs with low intelligence.

She scanned the faces of everyone in the lounge, then strode toward the elevator.

The others stood silently for a moment, then followed one after another.

The elevator lobby is spacious, and the private elevator for seven people can accommodate twenty people at the same time.

Shen Hai's back was pressed against the elevator wall, and his breathing rate increased significantly after the elevator began to ascend.

Xuanse stood directly in front of the elevator door, his right hand habitually hanging at his waist, only a few centimeters away from the tactical dagger on his outside thigh.

The wise man stood in the center of the elevator, his hands clasped together on his abdomen, his posture elegant and his demeanor composed.

The other superhumans huddled in a corner of the elevator; some were trembling with barely perceptible force, while others repeatedly reached into their pockets for their phones, even though all cell phone signals had long been blocked.

The elevator came to a stop on the top floor, and the doors opened.

They saw the pile of corpses in the corner, the blood covering the ground, and the pardoned people standing silently in a row next to the corpses.

The clothes of those who were pardoned still bore the bloodstains of their former colleagues, but none of them dared to leave their positions.

The wise woman was the first to enter the conference room, followed by the other superpowered individuals, as if hoping she could withstand any potential harm.

The wise man stood opposite the conference table, his hands loosened from his abdomen and hanging down at his sides.

She first glanced at Homelander lying on the table, then looked at the high-backed leather chair opposite him.

Sitting in that chair was a person wearing a red and blue bodysuit.

He had one leg crossed over the other, and his elbows resting on the armrests. Although his face was not visible, it was clear that he was in a relaxed posture.

The wise man walked over the pool of blood toward Peter and said sincerely, "We are willing to part with the upper and lower body of you, who considers himself the smartest man on earth, regarding all of Water Tower's current resources and personnel."

The blood mist hovered in mid-air for less than a moment before spraying onto the floor of the conference room.

Her lower body was still standing in place, and her hands hadn't even fully loosened their grip on her abdomen.

His upper body slid down at an angle, hitting the carpet with a dull thud.

“You tell me,” Peter stood up from his chair, “is it possible that the wise woman was mentally challenged, and that Compound V significantly enhanced her intelligence, giving her a slightly more normal IQ?”

The superpowered individuals in the conference room did not answer Peter.

They were a motley crew with superpowers, and when they saw the wisest man, who had just been swearing he wouldn't die, being cut in half by Peter's Sun Dust, they all went wild.

Deep Sea and Firecracker, cowards who, even with superpowers, haven't changed their nature of bullying the weak and fearing the strong, started running towards the elevator the moment the wise man was split in two.

The second-generation Black, Father O, Kate Dunlap, Sam Reidon, and young Keix, who have a bit more backbone, pick up weapons or gather their superpowers.

A golden pulse of radiation emanated from Peter's chest, instantly penetrating most of the conference room.

Thanks to Friday's coordination, the radiation pulse was not as destructive as the Soldier Boys' chest cannon, but rather as "harmless" as a light.

Peter roared, "You! Have! Been! Stripped of your power!"

As soon as the words were spoken, all the superhumans collapsed to the ground simultaneously.

Their compound 5 was burned up in their bodies; the compound 5 that once gave them the ability to fly and become invulnerable was now just a pile of inactive protein fragments.

The superhumans, who had suddenly lost their immense power, collapsed to the ground, unable to adapt in a short period of time.

Groans, sobs, and screams rose and fell.

Peter walked to the side of the fallen sea, his toes slightly raised.

He wanted to stomp the head of this pervert who liked to eat octopuses, but he held back.

The reason Peter was so eager to kill the wise man was because he found the female chimpanzee utterly repulsive.

Peter felt physically uncomfortable just by her standing in front of him.

As for these overgrown children who think they are a superior race above ordinary humans just because they have superpowers, it would be too lenient to just kill them.

Peter addressed the Vought employees behind him: "I want to hear your opinions. Some of you were forced into this, and some of you have willingly cleaned up their messes. And those former superhumans sitting in the corner who have lost their powers—they were your bosses, colleagues, or the people you nodded and smiled at every day in the hallway. So, what do you do with them?"

The silence lasted for a few seconds, then a middle-aged woman in a Walter Logistics Department uniform pushed her way out of the crowd.

Her hands were rough, and there were traces of cleaning agent under her fingernails.

"I want to beat Shenhai half to death. He has sexually assaulted at least three girls on the floor I'm in charge of. Every day when I change the trash bags in his office, I want to put the trash bags over his head."

"I know beating him up won't change anything. Those girls won't forget what he did just because I broke his nose. But I just want to beat him up, is that okay?"

"Okay," Peter said, "but you'll have to wait a little while."

The woman from the logistics department smiled, clearly very satisfied with the answer.

Just as she was about to say something more, a voice came from among the pardoned, interrupting her.

"How can you do it alone? All the victims should be included." The speaker was a young visual director whose Homelander posters were displayed in every corner of the country.

"What I mean is, you're not the only one who wants to beat him up. Nor are we the only ones. The girls he hurt, the families of the victims murdered by Xuan Se, the prisoners locked up in the Freedom Camp by Bingpao—they are the ones who have the right to decide how to deal with these people."

He paused, then added in a voice that sounded like he was confirming with himself, "If we shut ourselves in here and beat these people up, what's the difference between us and them having a secret meeting in this conference room? They always deal with disobedient people behind closed doors. Vigilante justice isn't justice; a public trial is."

The pardoned individuals in the meeting room fell silent.

The legal advisor, the first woman to be pardoned, wiped the bloodstains from Peter's killings with her sleeve.

She glanced at the pile of corpses in the corner with an expression more complex than during the interrogation, and then spoke: "You're right about one thing. I've always felt that I'm no different from these beasts."

I helped Walter draft so many confidentiality agreements, and I was present when every victim's family member signed them.

I can't pretend I'm just following orders because I know what I'm doing.

She paused, then took her hands off her sleeves: "But we are different from them in one way."

We—we ordinary people who are still alive—are forced into this situation; we are people who are kidnapped by their superpowers and the entire Vought system.

Once we joined Vought, there was no turning back. If we didn't work, we would die; if we tried to quit, we would be silenced.

But they are different.

They actively choose to use their superpowers to surpass ordinary people.

They enjoy this sense of superiority.

They weren't forced; they just never felt that we were the same species as them.

If we don't want to end up like these beasts, we should indeed put them to a public trial.

After she finished speaking, the meeting room remained quiet for a long time.

Then an old cleaning man, in the most relieved tone of his life, added from the corner: "I've been cleaning Homelander's room for over ten years. Every time Homelander gets angry, he makes a complete mess of the room."

Once he smashed the sink, and shards of glass flew to the toilet. After he finished venting his anger, I cleaned it up for him.

He glanced at me, with the same look he gave me as if I were a mouse that had just walked by.

He raised his head and stared at Peter with his cloudy eyes, which had been stained by cleaning agents for decades: "Sir, I am very grateful to you for giving me a chance to live."

However, I must remind you of one thing: our government is utterly corrupt, and even the president is a puppet of the Homelander, openly so.

If the trial is transferred to the judicial authorities, it will absolutely become a mess.

Peter sat on the edge of the conference table and said to the crowd, "In that case, let's lock these people up in the Water Tower underground detention cell first."

Then we went to liberate all the Free Camps and find all the victims and their families who had been harmed by Walter.

If they're willing, then let them stand in the prosecutor's dock and give their testimony themselves.

Peter's gaze swept over the group of pardoned people: "We'll be here then; this conference room will serve as a temporary special court."

You are the jury. The victim has volunteered to serve as the prosecutor.

The trial was broadcast live globally, and the entire chain of evidence was made public. The verdict was decided by a jury vote. I was only responsible for carrying out the verdict.

Then Peter changed the subject: "As for you, don't forget that you were more or less Walter's accomplices."

My pardoning you does not mean you will not have to pay the price.

After the impending chaos subsides, I will establish a dedicated department to handle matters concerning all those harmed by Walter.

For example, victim compensation, medical assistance, legal aid, and psychological intervention.

All of you will work in this department for at least ten years to atone for your past acts of aiding and abetting evil.

"And what about him?" Ashley pointed to Homelander lying on the table. "What do we do with this guy?"

"I have my own plans for him."

Peter pointed to the former superhumans sprawled on the ground: "If you want to beat them up, you can do it now. But don't kill them, or I'll get really angry."

After saying this, he withdrew the solar dust that had enveloped Water Tower, then smashed the window and soared into the sky with the Homelanders.

Inside the conference room, the survivors were already howling as they pounced on the former superpowered individuals who had once ridden over them.

Screams echoed in the conference room.