Compared to the Bronx, Queens offered a considerably better security environment—though "better" remained relative. The borough still harbored significant criminal activity; it simply didn't match the Bronx's notorious reputation.
After teleporting to Queens, Richard immediately employed his telepathy to locate active criminals throughout the area. Though these individuals were engaged in various illegal activities, Richard made no distinction between them—all were equally deserving of his judgment.
Matter decomposition!
Having locked onto these criminals telepathically, he decisively activated his matter decomposition ability. Faced with this overwhelming and indiscriminate power, the criminals experienced pain beyond anything they had ever known.
Though Richard could have completely decomposed them in mere fractions of a second, he deliberately controlled the process. He extended the decomposition to approximately ten seconds, ensuring these criminals experienced the excruciating sensation of their bodies disintegrating piece by piece before death finally claimed them.
Time passed steadily. After more than two hours, Richard finally achieved his nightly quota of eliminating three hundred criminals.
Unlike the previous night, he added a distinctive flourish to tonight's work. Beyond leaving only the criminals' severed heads, he deliberately used his matter decomposition ability to "engrave" his new codename—"Death Archon"—onto each remaining head.
Facial tattooing punishment!
To ensure his new identity as "Death Archon" would quickly embed itself in public consciousness, Richard deliberately invoked the ancient practice of facial tattooing—carving words into a person's face as punishment. The only difference was that traditional tattooing was performed on the living, while Richard applied his signature to the decapitated heads of his victims.
Having completed his task, Richard teleported from Queens directly to his luxury suite on the 96th floor of The Seven Tower without a moment's hesitation.
The next morning.
While enjoying breakfast in the restaurant, Richard watched with satisfaction as major news channels broadcasted reports on the "Death Archon." As expected, his actions had further enraged both the general public and U.S. officials.
The intensified condemnation wasn't limited to social media outrage—Vought's stock had begun plummeting in response to the controversy.
If Homelander or Queen Maeve were in his position, they would undoubtedly be concerned about the financial implications. Richard, however, remained utterly indifferent. The stock price decline meant nothing to him—even if Vought collapsed entirely, he wouldn't lose a moment's sleep.
The only thing that mattered in this world was becoming the most famous "superhero" on the planet. Everything else was inconsequential.
As Richard finished his breakfast, mentally reaffirming his decision to hire Chinese chefs, Starlight entered the restaurant wearing her white and gold uniform. With no meeting scheduled that morning, she had slept in—though the dark circles under her eyes suggested her rest had been troubled.
Upon noticing Richard, Starlight hesitated momentarily before approaching his table.
"Good morning, Mr. Wesley," she greeted politely.
"I believe I mentioned the day before yesterday that you can call me Richard or Wesley," he replied. "I don't particularly enjoy being addressed as 'Mr. Wesley' by peers in the same organization."
Had Starlight been his subordinate or someone outside The Seven, he wouldn't have minded the formality. But as a nominal teammate, the distance implied by "Mr. Wesley" felt unnecessary.
"I'll remember that next time," Starlight replied quickly.
When they'd first met, she had formed a favorable impression of Richard, believing he would make a good companion. But after learning about his killing spree in the Bronx, she realized her initial assessment had been naïve. Furthermore, his domineering behavior in yesterday's conference room had only confirmed this revelation.
A powerful, domineering dictator.
This was how Starlight now perceived Richard.
Richard merely nodded in response and said nothing more. Seeing he had no interest in continuing the conversation, Starlight turned toward the restaurant's buffet display.
After she'd taken only a few steps, Richard recalled something. "Wait a moment," he called.
Starlight stopped and turned back. "Yes?"
"Contact the marketing department and have them design a new uniform for you," he instructed calmly. "Your current one is excessively girlish."
Though Starlight's uniform wasn't unattractive, Richard found it overly conservative and juvenile. Young girls and traditional women might appreciate the modest design, but it failed to properly showcase her elegant figure. In simpler terms—it was too restrictive.
What?
Starlight stared at him, momentarily stunned by the unexpected directive.
After a brief pause, she replied, "I don't see anything wrong with my current uniform."
"You simply don't recognize it," Richard stated matter-of-factly.
Though his tone remained conversational rather than commanding, Starlight knew better than to argue. After a moment's consideration, she nodded reluctantly. "After breakfast, I'll ask Ashley to notify the designers in the marketing department."
With that, she continued toward the buffet. Throughout the remainder of breakfast, neither spoke to the other, each enjoying their meal in silence.
Afterward, Richard returned to his suite on the 96th floor. Relaxing on the living room sofa, he searched his name online and smiled with satisfaction upon seeing it dominating the headlines across major search engines and social networking sites.
Though his reputation was rapidly deteriorating toward an irreparable state, this didn't concern him in the slightest. As the saying went, "All publicity is good publicity." Whether famous or infamous, both served his purpose.
As long as he became the most renowned "superhero" in this universe, he cared nothing for whether that fame was positive or negative. He wouldn't mind being compared to Hitler if it meant achieving his goal.
After browsing the overwhelmingly negative commentary about himself, Richard returned his phone to his System Space and teleported from The Seven Tower.
Rather than performing so-called heroic acts, he materialized atop the office building where Congresswoman Victoria Neuman worked. At this point in the timeline, Neuman had not yet become head of the Office of Superhuman Affairs, nor had she begun using her powers to explode people's heads.
After arriving on the rooftop, Richard made no move toward Neuman's office. Instead, he employed his telepathy, quickly locking onto her mental signature and accessing her memories. Within moments, he discovered the information he sought.
First, as he had suspected, Victoria Neuman was indeed Edgar's adopted daughter.
Second, her various public condemnations of Vought had been orchestrated by Edgar himself.
Edgar's strategy served dual purposes: placing a loyal asset within the U.S. government while simultaneously undermining Vice President Madeline Stillwell's position.
Technically, Madeline was Edgar's subordinate. However, Vought wasn't a one-man operation under Edgar's sole control. As a publicly traded corporation, Vought answered to numerous shareholders, and Edgar was merely the president appointed by the board of directors.
This meant Edgar, despite his title, faced constraints from both the board and Vice President Madeline Stillwell. Though Edgar had long desired to replace Madeline with someone more compliant, she was no pushover. She commanded significant support both within the board of directors and externally.
It was precisely this influence that had secured Madeline complete authority over The Seven's operations within Vought.
Richard had no interest in Vought's internal power struggles. He cared for neither Edgar nor Madeline and had no intention of aligning with either faction.
After extracting the information he wanted from Victoria Neuman's mind, Richard didn't immediately terminate the telepathic connection. Instead, he sent her a mental message: "I'm Richard Wesley. I'm on the roof of your building now. Come up."
Having delivered this summons, Richard severed the telepathic link without waiting for a response.
Minutes later, Victoria Neuman appeared on the rooftop alone, dressed in a tailored black suit and high heels. Upon seeing Richard, she immediately went on the offensive.
"Mr. Wesley, I assume you didn't come here just to demonstrate your powers or threaten me?" She maintained a cool, professional demeanor as she attempted to control the conversation.
As expected of a congresswoman who had battled through the trenches of American politics.
"Actually, you're wrong," Richard replied calmly. "I came specifically to threaten you."
He maintained steady eye contact with her. "You're intelligent, so I won't waste words. I know you're Edgar's adopted daughter, and I understand why you've targeted Vought with such fervor."
Richard continued without emotion. "Whether you denounce Vought or me personally is irrelevant. I don't care about your political maneuvering. But if you want your relationship with Edgar to remain secret, I suggest you intensify your public outcry against me."
He leaned slightly forward. "Ideally, push matters until both the Senate and House feel compelled to vote on superhuman restriction legislation."
What?
Victoria stared at Richard, bewildered by his request. When he'd revealed knowledge of her connection to Edgar, her first instinct had been to use her powers to explode his head, eliminating the risk of exposure. She'd quickly suppressed this impulse, curious about what leverage he intended to apply.
But his demand to amplify her criticism of him left her utterly perplexed. Her expression shifted from guarded to genuinely confused.
What is he planning?
Does he want to become public enemy number one?
Does he somehow enjoy being vilified?
Questions raced through Victoria's mind, but rather than waste energy speculating, she asked directly: "Just tell me your purpose. I can't imagine anyone would enjoy universal condemnation."
Richard shook his head, offering a thin smile. "I don't need to explain my plans to you," he said dismissively. "Or rather, you aren't qualified to know them."
His tone shifted slightly. "As a personal aside, I'd advise against injecting your daughter with Compound V. Not everyone is fortunate enough to gain powers that work effectively without disrupting normal life. If you awaken abilities that severely impact your existence or cause physical mutations, you'll find yourself with regrets and nowhere to turn."
While superhumans existed in this world, their numbers remained relatively small. Vought currently maintained just over two hundred publicly known heroes. Even counting imprisoned supes used as test subjects and retired heroes, the total superhuman population worldwide barely reached two or three thousand.
This meant people hadn't yet realized the sobering truth that useless or actively harmful powers would inevitably become the statistical norm—just as Epsilon and Delta class mutants comprised nearly 80% of all mutants.
Though Richard offered his advice sincerely, Victoria's expression made it clear she dismissed his warning. Seeing her skepticism, Richard didn't press the point. Without another word, he teleported back to The Seven Tower.
Days passed swiftly, and before long, a week had elapsed.
Throughout this period, Richard maintained his nightly "hero" activities, methodically eliminating criminals without discrimination. Since beginning his campaign, he had personally dispatched nearly three thousand criminals.
Yet despite the mounting death toll, public condemnation and protests against him had begun to wane noticeably. This shift wasn't due to Vought's PR department suddenly becoming effective, nor was it because Victoria Neuman had ignored his threats. Instead, New York residents had started to recognize tangible benefits from the drastic reduction in criminal activity.
According to the latest crime statistics released by the NYPD, New York's overall crime rate had plummeted by more than 90% in just over a week. The night-time crime rate had fallen even more dramatically, to approximately 2% of previous levels—unsurprising given that Richard conducted most of his operations after dark.
Upon observing this significant shift in public sentiment, Edgar, Victoria Neuman, and others finally understood why Richard had remained indifferent to public opinion. As he had asserted: there was no crime that killing couldn't stop—if killing failed to solve the problem, it simply meant not enough people had been killed.
Beyond the dramatic drop in crime, another relatively minor incident occurred during the week. Unfortunately, a fire broke out at Vice President Madeline Stillwell's residence one night, resulting in her death at the scene.
While fires were commonplace occurrences, Madeline's death still generated significant media coverage. She had, after all, served as Vought's vice president for years. Much of the credit for Vought's rising stock prices and The Seven's growing fame could be attributed directly to her leadership.
To the public, this appeared to be a tragic accident. But Edgar knew the truth—this was no accident. The fire had been deliberately set by Homelander himself.
Edgar wasn't alone in this knowledge; Victoria Neuman also understood what had really happened. Neither, however, revealed the truth to the public, maintaining complete silence on the matter.
...
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