Cthulhu America, I can see the kill line.

Sasasa...

The rain in Hills seems to have no end in sight today.

"Since the beginning of winter this year, it seems like the snow and rain have never stopped."

Secretary General Campbell leaned against the artificial hot spring pool in the luxury resort hotel, squinting as he gazed at the hazy gray sky outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, and sighed softly.

The middle-aged man, over fifty, casually rubbed the slender waist of the call girl beside him with one hand, while holding a glass of champagne in the other, slowly sipping it, his gaze lingering on Hills in the rain.

The hostesses in swimsuits forced smiles as they carefully served this man at the pinnacle of Hills' power, not daring to show the slightest negligence.

After all, while Mayor Yaken of Hills was vacationing on Stan Island, the Secretary General had full authority over all affairs.

The cloying sweetness of champagne, the rich perfume on the women, the faint aphrodisiac scent in the greenhouse...

A mixture of various scents permeated the air, as if even the air itself was tinged with an ambiguous pink hue.

boom!

Until the hall door was suddenly kicked open.

"Secretary-General, something terrible has happened!"

The one who rushed in was a low-ranking employee of Campbell's men.

The secretary-general couldn't remember his name, but he vaguely felt that this person was quite efficient and always reported information quickly.

The only drawback is that this person is completely oblivious to the situation. With such a beautiful woman in his arms, any other sensible subordinate would never dare to spoil the mood like this.

If it weren't for a distant relative of this kid being an important member of the Liberal Blue Party in the federal government, who recommended him and kept him firmly by the Secretary-General's side for "training," he would have found a reason to fire this hothead long ago.

"Relax, young man, what's the rush?"

Cambrai rose from the hot spring unhurriedly and without any attempt to conceal it, his expression languid.

The maid hurriedly stepped forward and wrapped him in a bath towel to cover his naked lower body.

"What does Mayor Akermen usually teach us? 'Under the guidance of the all-knowing and all-powerful Great Leader, Amerigo will always be on the right path.' Why make such a fuss?"

He swayed his obese body as he strolled over to his subordinate, patted him on the shoulder, and offered a perfunctory reassurance with a smile.

"Enjoying life is the best way to build Hills. That's our top priority now, along with Mayor Yaken's..."

At this point, Campbell suddenly extended a finger and gently pressed it to his subordinate's lips, making a shushing gesture, a hint of impatience flashing in his eyes.

"So, even if the sky falls, even if the statue of Goddess is occupied by some organization, it has nothing to do with us, understand?"

The subordinate swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing, and looked at Campbell with a pale face.

"But... Secretary General, the Psionic Weather Bureau just reported... half of the four conceptual anchors that maintain the Iron Curtain have broken. The sky... is really going to fall."

Campbell's face darkened abruptly, his brows furrowing: "Why didn't you say so sooner?!"

He turned around abruptly and winked at an empty corner by the hot spring pool.

Near the previously empty water surface, the air suddenly distorted and fluctuated, revealing several fully armed bodyguards.

From the special steel combat boots on their feet to the helmets covered with holographic masks on their heads, these people are armed to the bone.

"Please get these 'sweethearts' out of here. I need to speak with the mayor now."

With a cold command, Campbell gave the order, and the next second, these fully armed bodyguards roughly grabbed the call girls by the hair and dragged them out of the hall amidst screams.

The pool was quickly emptied, the dryer hummed, and the hot spring scene shrank back underground like a mechanical module.

Immediately afterwards, several genuine leather sofas and filing cabinets slowly "grew" out from the wall.

Campbell stood there, wiping himself down and changing into formal attire, while observing coldly.

In just a few moments, the once luxurious and decadent hot spring hall has been transformed into a serious and tidy office.

The subordinate standing to the side remained calm, clearly having long been accustomed to this.

"cough."

Campbell cleared his throat, took the documents handed to him by his subordinate, and glanced at them.

"Hills has been having a lot of bad luck lately... We haven't even finished dealing with last week's plane crash, and now this terrible incident has happened."

He took a sip of the hangover-relieving electrolyte solution, his gaze lazily sweeping over the words on the report, his eyes gradually shifting from drunkenness to a sharp edge.

"Around 10 a.m. this morning, the faith-based anchor point lost contact... Half an hour ago, the material-based anchor point was suspected of being destroyed, and it has now been confirmed that it is completely out of contact?"

Cambrai's brows furrowed slightly, but not completely.

His eyes flashed with a complex mix of "I knew it" and "disbelief".

Clearly, this news was not entirely unexpected, yet it greatly defied common sense.

"The Liberal Party keeps clamoring to destroy the Iron Curtain, but... they're moving so fast? When did America's administrative efficiency become so high, as if ICE agents were on the scene?"

Unfortunately, ICE is affiliated with the Republicans and cannot help the Liberals destroy the Iron Curtain.

However, these days, there was even fake news last week that President Abel had been resurrected and witnessed by passersby. One absurd thing after another keeps happening.

As he muttered to himself, Campbell casually tossed the documents onto the table, straightened his suit jacket, and settled into his office chair with composure.

The languor, intoxication, and decadent atmosphere of the previous moment vanished instantly. Now sitting behind the table was the reserved and dignified second-in-command of Hills—Secretary General Cambray.

He pressed the landline number fixed on the desktop, and the camera popped up, while the side screen lit up.

A few seconds later, an aged male voice came through the receiver:

"Cambrai?"

"Besides me, who else would dare to disturb you at this time, Mayor Yaken?"

Cambrai immediately switched to a fawning tone, a smile spreading across his face.

Is anyone there?

Upon hearing this, Campbell immediately glanced around and gave a signal with his eyes.

Everyone silently stepped back five paces and stood neatly outside the anti-eavesdropping field emanating from the desk.

"No, Mayor Yaken, it's just me. Sigh, I'm busy working on the report of last week's plane crash."

As Campbell finished speaking, the screen lit up.

The other party turned on their camera.

In the video, an elderly-looking man is seen embracing several shy-looking little boys, glancing casually at the camera.

"That old bastard, he's off to Stan Island again, playing with child predators."

A fleeting, almost imperceptible hint of jealousy flashed across Campbell's eyes, but his face remained plastered with a fawning smile.

"Cambrai, I told you, with an all-knowing and all-powerful Grand Commander guiding him, Amerigo will always be on the right path. What's the panic?"

In the video, the old man's gaze toward the camera clearly revealed his displeasure.

"I'm so sorry to disturb your rest, Mayor Yaken... but there is an urgent matter here that requires your decision."

Seeing the other person's gloomy gaze after his mood was disturbed, Campbell braced himself and cautiously asked for permission.

Until Akken nodded slightly and uttered, "Speak."

"Something seems to have gone wrong on the Iron Curtain side. It's possible some force is deliberately sabotaging the anchor points..."

"Send superheroes."

Before Cambrai could finish speaking, Akhen lowered his head and kissed the boy's cheek in his arms, interrupting him without looking up.

"Anyway, the anchor point for protecting that one valuable 'concept' is none other than my 'superhero training ground' where I keep my suicide squads. What force could possibly destroy it? Could they possibly get past my army of mutants?"