Inside the hall, the screening lasted for nearly an hour.
Every named Supe demonstrated their abilities under Robert's watchful eye.
Anyone who hadn't been in close contact with Simon and whose abilities had nothing to do with internal explosions passed the inspection; no clues were found.
Robert picked up the microphone somewhat dejectedly, pointed at a rolling alloy door flashing with white light, and shouted to the crowd that hadn't been checked yet: "Everyone, please pass through the detection device on the left in turn. We suspect the terrorist is hidden among you. Please cooperate."
Ten minutes later, the crowd filed through, and the alloy door that detected superpower fluctuations made no abnormal sounds.
Robert sat in his chair with his eyes closed, processing the massive amount of collected data.
Ashley leaned in and whispered, "How is it?"
Robert covered his face and said in a muffled voice, "Of all the Supes present, not one matches 'internal, instantaneous detonation'; among the ordinary people, there are no hidden shapeshifters at all."
Ashley swiped on her tablet, her brow furrowed. "The security department checked. The person in charge pulled the entry security records and confirmed that Speaker Simon wasn't carrying any suspected explosives when he entered, and the X-ray scan showed nothing unusual."
Robert pulled at his hair in frustration. "How did that suspect do it? It makes no logical sense at all!"
Ashley understood the investigation had reached a dead end. Continuing to detain these shaken and prominent guests would only further escalate the conflict and confirm their company's incompetence and hollow strength.
She took out her frequently vibrating phone and glanced at it. "The FBI is already downstairs. We have to let them go!"
Robert was mesmerized, stroking the paper tube, and didn't offer any opinion.
Ashley picked up the microphone, phrasing her words carefully as she looked at the weary guests. "Thank you all for your cooperation. The preliminary investigation... has come to a temporary close. To... to ensure timely communication regarding the situation and for your safety, please perform... a security registration at the door before leaving."
Security then cleared an exit, and the crowd swarmed toward the hall's exit.
Wade stood in line, looking at the temporary registration points in the corridor. 'Heh, they want to put us on record and settle scores later!'
The guests were already eager to return home. No one objected anymore; they only wanted to leave this nightmare as quickly as possible.
They silently completed the registration and entered the elevators one by one.
Wade turned to look at the hall. The waiters left behind were the next batch waiting for interrogation. 'They are internal staff recruited by Vought; I doubt they'll find anything.'
At this point, his purpose for attending the memorial service had been fully achieved.
Not only had he cleared the suspicion surrounding himself and Kate's group of four, but he had also successfully sabotaged Vought's memorial service intended to restore their reputation. They had lost significant face in front of political and business elites, and no evidence had been left behind.
'Simply perfect!' Wade kneaded Jill's shoulder as he followed the line for the elevator, quietly gathering the thoughts and conversations spreading around him.
After confirming they could leave, the nerves of these political and business elites—who had just experienced a night of terror—relaxed slightly, and their calculating nature fully emerged.
"John, what do you think of tonight's events?" a man with gold-rimmed glasses and meticulously combed hair asked his companion in a low voice.
"What do I think? I saw it with my own eyes, Mike." The man named John tugged at his tie, his face full of ill luck. "Vought really hit a wall this time—a red-hot steel wall. What terrorist? Have you ever seen a terrorist make such a big scene just to play two 'documentaries'? This is clearly a vendetta, and from an enemy who knows Vought inside out!"
Mike pushed up his glasses. "This wasn't an indiscriminate terrorist attack; it was a 'decapitation strike' targeting Vought's public credibility. I think our previous joint projects need to be suspended indefinitely."
"Agreed," John immediately chimed in. "Until Vought figures out who's messing with them and proves they have the ability to handle it, any deep association with them is suicide. I don't want to be in my office one day and... 'Bang!' just because I'm working with Vought."
Two slightly plump people in tailored suits huddled together. The man anxiously tapped his phone screen. "Damn it, my phone only has 3% battery. I have to notify the trader immediately! Tomorrow morning when the market opens, sell all the Vought stock we hold! Liquidate it! Not a single share left!"
Beside him, a sharp-looking woman said coldly, "Bob, panic selling will cause huge losses."
"Losses? If we don't sell now, are we waiting to lose everything?" Bob whispered carefully. "Tonight, their core business, the heroic image of The Seven, has already half-rotted! Translucent is a fraud, and Homelander is a Butcher. Do you think consumers will still buy their merchandise? Will the government and military still give them contracts so readily? A stock price crash is inevitable; we can still save something if we run now."
The woman was silent for a moment, then sighed. "You're right. We need to re-evaluate all investment portfolios related to the Supe concept."
A few people dressed like politicians gathered, their tones heavy. "Simon is dead. He was one of Vought's staunchest supporters on Capitol Hill. What does this mean?"
Another looked around and lowered his voice. "It means the opponent's retaliation doesn't distinguish targets; anyone in the way could be eliminated. Our previous lobbying for the 'Superhuman Security Act'... was too conspicuous. Before the heat dies down, we must keep our distance."
"Exactly. Whatever leverage, whatever money... you have to be alive to enjoy it." One of them nodded in agreement. "Until Vought shows they can strike back, we can't speak for them publicly anymore. Notify everyone: all lobbying projects related to Vought are suspended."
Scattered whispers also spread through the crowd:
"I need to write a report to the board immediately to suspend the joint laboratory project..."
"Tell our foundation to suspend all donations to Vought's charity projects."
Wade perceived these calculating thoughts as if listening to a beautiful symphony. 'When a wall starts to fall, everyone gives it a push; when a drum is broken, everyone beats it. Vought isn't going to have a good time lately.'
He poked Klara's shoulder in front of him and whispered, "Auntie, don't they know that Supes have strong hearing? Aren't they afraid of Vought's retaliation for saying these things so openly?"
"It's nothing. The market only recognizes the strong. Once the storm passes, these people will board the ship again." Klara said with a smile, turning her head. "Our Damon family's little boat has few people and is relatively stable. Want to come aboard?"
Wade smiled and shook the petite figure in front of him. "Haha, a man's got to have dreams. Maybe I can build an aircraft carrier! Right, Jill?"
Jill nodded sleepily, drooling a bit. "What boat, what cannon... so tired, carry me on your back quickly."
...On the streets of New York, a pest control van sped along the street against the sound of sirens.
In the passenger seat, Hughie gestured excitedly. "My god... we, we successfully ruined Translucent's memorial service!"
MM turned the steering wheel and asked with a laugh, "Hahaha... I saw it all. Translucent's confession video must have been tortured out of him by that Chameleon guy."
"I just don't know if he filmed the video on the plane himself. Taking a direct shot of Homelander takes too much guts, doesn't it? If that Heat Vision hit me, I can't even imagine it!"
Hughie took a sip of water and looked out the window. "I wonder if Chameleon escaped? With something so big happening at Vought Tower, they'll definitely lock it down for investigation."
MM looked at him speechlessly and teased, "You're worried about him? Don't forget he can shapeshift, not to mention who knows how many Superpower Serums he has on him. God himself could probably bless him to ascend to heaven!"
"First, tell me, besides hacking in to play the video, what else did you get?"
I didn't successfully hack into their independent server, so..." Hughie lowered his head in dejection, then excitedly opened his laptop. "But I found something else: 'Image Management and Crisis PR Strategy (Internal Latest Edition).' It's full of their routine response plans for how to clean up their mess and manipulate public opinion!"
MM pulled the car over and slapped his thigh with a laugh. "Ho ho ho, now we'll smell it ahead of time whenever they want to let out a fart."
Buzz, buzz—
A phone rang and vibrated inside the car.
Hughie pressed the speakerphone and answered, "Hello..."
Butcher's roar came through the speaker: "Cut the crap, get over to the South Pier subway station to support us... We found traces of Black Noir and A-Train, hurry up!"
MM craned his neck and shouted, "Don't do anything reckless! If you can't win, just run!"
Frenchie's voice came through, saying cheekily, "Run for what? When you guys get here, the four of us will take the drugs and go at them together!"
The call then disconnected. Hughie put away his phone and turned to ask, "Should we... let Chameleon know?"
MM shook his head, started the car, and slammed on the gas. "He probably hasn't escaped yet. What if you mess up his business? It's better to contact him after we finish our investigation."
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