Chapter 4751

The Boys Side Story: Prologue

This is a side story for "The Boys"!

It's about that TV show with Homelander; it has nothing to do with the main text!

If you don't want to read it, don't subscribe!

In a dimly lit corridor, a doctor wearing a white coat and a surgical mask pushed a small cart, walking slowly. His leather shoes tapped against the polished floor, leaving behind slightly cool-toned reflections. His pace slowed down, and he finally stopped in front of a door.

Looking past his shoe tips through the gap in the door, another pair of feet stood behind it. Clearly, someone was blocking the door.

The doctor set the cart aside and reached out to knock gently on the door. Hearing no response from the other side, he said in a rather gentle tone, like one would use to coax a child: "No, Cindy, open the door. It's time for your medicine."

There was still no movement inside. The doctor gripped the doorknob and then said: "You won't need to undergo treatment this week; you just need to take your medicine properly. I swear, no one will come to disturb you again..."

The atmosphere in both the corridor and the room was quiet. The dim lights flickered, making the hospital look somewhat terrifying. A gloved hand reached over the medicine box on the cart, tapped the tops of the vials with a finger, pulled one out, and flicked the cap.

Hearing this sound, the pair of feet in the door gap began to tremble slightly. Some faint sobbing came from the gap: "No... no..."

"Now, open the door. I don't want to say it a third time." The doctor's voice remained calm, but his tone carried a hint of irresistible coldness at the end.

The crying inside grew louder. With a "click," the door opened a small crack. The doctor pushed the door open and entered. A female patient in a hospital gown with a shaved head was pressing her body against the corner of the wall, her hands braced against the two walls as if this would bring her some sense of security.

After the doctor walked in, he didn't look at her, but turned back to push the cart inside. He then began to operate on the cart and said: "Starting today, your dosage has been reduced. At the same time, you will have two hours of outdoor time every day, but you have to promise me, Cindy..."

The doctor took out a syringe and drew liquid from a medicine vial. While busy, he said: "You cannot use your telekinesis to break the fence. Remember last time? You broke the newly repaired hedge, forcing me to hire a gardener again. That is not right."

The female patient called Cindy, upon hearing the word "hedge," seemed to have her fear switch flipped. She whimpered and kept retreating into the corner, shaking her head incessantly and saying: "No, no, I don't want to go out..."

"Going out for some fresh air is good for your condition, Cindy. Think about your mother. Didn't I invite her here before? She is truly worried about your condition."

Hearing the word "mother," Cindy closed her eyes in despair. As if all her strength had been drained, her body slid slowly down the wall. Finally, she sat on the floor, wrapped her arms around her knees, and buried her head in her arms.

"You lunatic... let us go, let me go..." she sobbed intermittently. The doctor remained unmoved and said: "It seems you are experiencing some visual and auditory hallucinations again."

"Don't be like this, Cindy. Cooperating with the treatment is the only way to improve your condition."

The doctor finally finished preparing the syringe, and a few drops of liquid dripped from the needle tip. He walked over with the syringe, crouched down, looked at Cindy, and said: "Sorry, I'm not lecturing you. I know you are terrified of teacher-like figures because you were once raped by your math teacher. You were only 13 at the time. That is not a very good memory..."

Cindy's body began to tremble violently, but the doctor leaned closer and closer, almost touching her ear as he said: "... Yes, I know. You are very afraid because it was your mother who sent you to him for tutoring, and after finding out what he did, she demanded that you use it to blackmail him for money..."

Cindy's body shook violently. The doctor reached out and stroked Cindy's back with his gloved hand, saying: "Don't worry, everything will be fine."

"If you are in too much pain, the medicine can help you calm down. Listen, take a deep breath... That's right, turn your head to the side. I'm going to inject you."

Cindy trembled more and more, but she unconsciously followed the doctor's instructions, seemingly hoping that the medicine would alleviate some of her current pain.

She slowly turned her head to the side until she felt a sharp object pierce her blood vessel. As the medicine flowed through her blood, she gained a long-lost sense of peace, then slowly curled up in the corner and fell asleep.

Pulling out the syringe, the doctor stood up and turned to look at the sunset outside the window. In the light of the setting sun, he could see the sign standing outside this abandoned mental hospital. On that slightly old sign, the name of the mental hospital was written in cursive English—"Woods Sage."

As the sunset light projected into the window, a man wearing a janitor's uniform was sweeping the floor with a broom. Suddenly, he heard a series of leather shoe footsteps on the floor, and his movements instantly stiffened.

With the light sound of the doorknob turning, the door creaked open, and a doctor in a white coat and mask walked in. He turned around, beckoned to the janitor holding the broom, and said: "Lamp Lighter, come help me. The wheel on this cart seems a bit broken."

The janitor called Lamp Lighter hurriedly put down the broom and walked over. He crouched down, tilted his head to look at the wheel, and said: "Oh, Dr. Schiller, it seems the bearing is jammed. Wait a moment..."

As he spoke, he stood up, looked left and right, and said with some difficulty: "I might need a wrench. I'll go to the tool room to get one."

"No, don't go yet. Let's take it back to the preparation room first. Today's outdoor time is about to start, and you still need to help."

Lamp Lighter's movements stiffened again. He looked up at the doctor, and just then, the doctor was taking off his mask.

This was a doctor who perfectly fit the image of a physician—mature, steady, and elegant, with a scholarly air. His voice was always peaceful, and he was very patient with patients. However, after seeing his face, Lamp Lighter immediately withdrew his gaze. He hurriedly turned around and placed his hand over his lips, seemingly trying to hide his expression.

"What's wrong with you?" the doctor called Schiller turned his head to look at him and said: "Are you feeling uncomfortable again? Where is your lighter? A comfort object will help you stabilize your emotions better."

"No, it's nothing..." Lamp Lighter took a deep breath. He seemed to have gathered his courage before turning back to Schiller and saying: "Who is on the outdoor time list today? Will Cindy..."

"No, she just took her medicine and has already fallen asleep. Her mood has been very stable lately. I think she can participate in outdoor time tomorrow or the day after."

"Wait." Lamp Lighter suddenly spoke up. He pinched his fingers, the muscles on his arms trembling slightly, and said: "I heard from the doctor that Stormfront seems to be coming to inspect this hospital tomorrow. She... is very difficult to deal with, Doctor. We..."

"It's fine, everything as usual." Schiller shook his head, looking indifferent. After a pause, he said: "Alright, tomorrow I will increase Cindy's dosage a bit so she doesn't run out."

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After saying this, he pushed the slightly malfunctioning cart outside. Lamp Lighter followed behind him and said: "Doctor, let me push it. It looks like it's broken quite badly."

"It's fine. How has the situation been lately? Do compulsive behaviors still occur often?"

"A little bit..." Lamp Lighter lowered his head, sighed, and said: "Sometimes, I still wake up in the middle of the night, walk to the mirror, or keep pacing by the bed. I can't really control myself."

"It's fine. No treatment can be accomplished in one step. There is no miracle drug in this world that can cure all diseases instantly. If someone says there is, they must be lying to you."

"Thank you." Lamp Lighter still stepped forward, took the cart from Schiller's hands, and pushed it forward. He said with some trembling: "You are a good doctor... the best doctor I have ever met."

Schiller adjusted his glasses and asked: "Have you met other doctors? You didn't tell me that before."

Lamp Lighter's fingers suddenly trembled. He stammered: "Yes, but not doctors for mental illness. I burned myself before and went to see a burn specialist..."

"What did he say?"

Lamp Lighter gripped the handle of the cart tightly, the veins on his hands popping out. This seemed to evoke bad memories. He said: "I didn't say anything to him. My father did all the communicating with him."

"He told my father that this kind of situation would continue to happen often." Lamp Lighter seemed to be holding his breath, and then this breath was sighed out along with his next sentence: "... But my father didn't care."

"I mentioned before, don't keep obsessing over those who once controlled you mentally. I know it's hard to break free from their control, but you must try to do it, otherwise, you will never become your true self."

Lamp Lighter took two deep breaths. His fingers gradually relaxed, and he said: "I've tried, just following the method you said. Actually, this feeling is really good. I haven't rested this well in a long time..."

After speaking, he turned to look at Schiller. This time, he couldn't turn away to hide his expression. After seeing Schiller's eyes, he showed a hint of fear, which immediately turned into gratitude, but quickly changed back to fear.

This intense change in expression made him look like he was having uncontrollable facial twitches. Lamp Lighter swallowed, turned his head back, and tried hard to control his emotions.

He wondered, when did his dark and hopeless life start to change?

Perhaps it was on a night a few months ago, after a flash of lightning, when the sound of shattering glass woke him from his bed—or perhaps it couldn't be called waking up, as he hadn't been asleep at all.

Recalling these things now, he still felt it was magical, because at that time, he was in a corridor and saw glass shattered all over the floor, and a man wearing a white coat and holding an employment notice. That was Schiller.

Pushing the cart along the corridor, Lamp Lighter shook his head. He didn't remember the scene very clearly. He only remembered that Dr. Schiller at that time had climbed up from the ground in a somewhat disheveled state, but had no expression of anger.

At that time, standing in the pitch-black corridor, Lamp Lighter saw Schiller open the notice in his hand, a look of helplessness appearing on his face, and then he muttered to himself: "Is this your way of handling a mess? Suddenly throwing me into a strange world?"

Lamp Lighter saw him acting like a lunatic, looking up and complaining to the air: "Not a bit of professional conduct, all personal grudges."

Afterward, he noticed Schiller's gaze fall on him. Schiller asked him: "Who are you?"

Lamp Lighter said nothing. He just took out his lighter, and from between his palms, a fierce flame sprayed toward Schiller. But this attack didn't work; Schiller appeared directly behind him.

"Oh, Lamp Lighter, you are called Lamp Lighter, right?" Schiller called out his name directly and then said: "It seems this time a big mess was made, choosing such a dangerous world..."

He sighed, shook his head, and said: "It seems a more dangerous guy is needed to deal with all this. I'm going on vacation."

After speaking, he lowered his head, remained dazed for a moment, and then returned to normal. When Lamp Lighter, who had just turned back to look at him, met his eyes, he saw astonishing danger and madness in them.

"What are you thinking about?" Schiller's calm voice pulled Lamp Lighter out of his memories. Lamp Lighter shook his head and said: "I was thinking about the first time we met. Doctor, how exactly did you get here?"

"Didn't I show you that employment notice? My superior sent me here."

Lamp Lighter scratched his head with one hand and said: "I know that. I just didn't expect Vought to have... a good doctor like you."

Schiller smiled and said: "Do you think I'm a good doctor? I remember you ran away when you first saw me."

Lamp Lighter's previously relaxed expression stiffened again. He swallowed and said nothing. As the two chatted while walking forward, they passed through the atrium in the center of the hospital and followed the stairs down until they reached the first floor.

Lamp Lighter turned his head to the other side, not looking at the center of the hospital lobby. Schiller patted him on the shoulder and pointed to the center of the hall: "The patient on the chair on the far left is not in a good state. Let's replace him."

Lamp Lighter's lips began to tremble. It was as if he were being forced to turn his head. He closed his eyes, slowly turned his head toward the center of the hall, and after opening his eyes, it was still that terrifying scene that appeared in his nightmares every day.

The empty hospital lobby had only rows upon rows of seats for waiting, but now they were all occupied by people.

Or rather, not people, but corpses.

On a total of four rows of chairs, each row had a corpse that had died in a different way. They were all fixed in the same posture: arms crossed over their chests, hands placed on both sides of their necks, heads tilted high. The only difference was that their methods of death were all bizarre.

Lamp Lighter began to tremble all over. Those images played continuously in his mind. The first person he saw sitting in the row of chairs on the far left, the one Schiller pointed out to be replaced, looked like a fat man sitting in a chair.

But Lamp Lighter knew very well that Duncan was actually a thin man; it was just that now, under his skin, he was stuffed full of dirt.

Just because he had killed another patient with a superpower that could turn others into dirt, Schiller had stuffed the person he had turned into dirt entirely into his body.

Lamp Lighter squeezed his eyes shut hard. Before this, he could clearly see the suture marks on Duncan's abdomen and chest. He remembered very clearly that when the doctor was performing the sutures, Duncan was still alive. Although he had lost more than 60% of his internal organs, he was indeed still conscious.

Lamp Lighter would never forget that after Schiller finished all this, he wore gloves and stuffed a seed into Duncan's throat, then said to him: "You like dirt so much; I guess becoming a flowerpot should be your best destination."

Duncan was still alive at that time, but his expression told Lamp Lighter that he had never craved death so much.

Lamp Lighter turned his head back, trembling all over. He stared fixedly at the medicine bottles on the cart, but in fact, he didn't recognize any of the words on them. It was as if he were trying to see something from these medicine bottles.

This doctor, who always looked so calm and gentle, had killed all the patients who refused to obey and tried to escape in the first month of arriving here, placing them on the chairs.

And all the remaining patients had not escaped torture. He used drugs and hypnosis to dig out the things they feared most in their hearts, then constantly stimulated them, controlled them, and saved them...

Lamp Lighter knew that some people had gone completely insane in this torture, while others, like him, had truly been saved amidst fear, pain, and torture.

Finally walking through the hall, those few dozen seconds felt as long as centuries to Lamp Lighter. He breathed a sigh of relief. After arriving at the preparation room, he pushed the cart in first, placed it in the correct position, and then turned to walk out. Seeing Schiller's back standing in front of the preparation table, he said with some hesitation: "Doctor, watch out for The Seven..."

"I will."

To Lamp Lighter's surprise, Schiller answered this question directly for the first time. Lamp Lighter stood in front of the door and looked back, seeing Schiller still fiddling with those medical instruments he didn't recognize on the table. He shook his head and then turned and went out.

Standing in front of the table, Schiller replenished the shelf with new medicine vials while recalling the plot related to this world.

The Boys is an anti-superhero comic. Here, almost all superheroes with superpowers are villains, including the well-known Homelander.

These superheroes all come from a company called Vought. The company arranges scene after scene, making these superheroes appear like heroes to win the favor of the public and then earn their money.

A plot that the TV series The Boys has revolved around for several seasons is that Vought is not satisfied with just being a company that cultivates idols; they want to privatize war.

And the reason this show is called The Boys is that another group of people is dissatisfied with the hypocritical and cruel way these superheroes act, so they organized The Boys to stop their evil deeds.

And Lamp Lighter played an important role in this show because he once used his superpower to kill the grandson of the former leader of The Boys.

Vought announced to the outside world that Lamp Lighter was dead, but in fact, they just threw him into this mental hospital to act as a human cremator.

The mental hospital where Schiller is located is called "Woods Sage," which has a very special background and also appeared in the TV series. Simply put, this is a laboratory that manufactures superheroes. Vought uses a special drug to transform and cultivate superheroes here, develop their special abilities, and then take them to make money.

Although this is not a real mental hospital, Schiller is a real doctor. He conducted very formal treatment on the patients here, but during the treatment process, there would inevitably be some disobedient people causing trouble, and security personnel would always come out to add trouble, so they all disappeared.

Perhaps because this hospital had not uploaded detailed experimental data and materials for too long, Stormfront, one of The Seven, was going to come to inspect in advance.

Near dusk the next day, a luxury stretch limousine stopped at the entrance of this slightly dilapidated mental hospital. A woman with black hair walked out of the car, holding a phone while walking, and said: "Either the data clerks you hired are not professional enough, or that old server has problems again. Hasn't it always been like this?"

As she spoke, she opened the iron gate outside the mental hospital and walked in. Before she could even enter the building, she stopped and said with some confusion: "... Why do I smell blood?"

The woman wrinkled her nose hard. The person on the other end of the phone said: "Stormfront? What's wrong? Why did you stop talking?"

"No... it's nothing, it's just..." Stormfront narrowed her eyes. She looked at this old hospital, but seemed to see a strange, cold, and gloomy quality from its familiar appearance.

"Hmph." She hung up the phone directly and walked inside quickly. This was Stormfront's way of doing things; she felt that nothing in this world could scare her with ghost stories.

Walking up the few steps at the entrance, the light shone on the main door, causing the glass to cast a hazy halo, making it impossible for Stormfront to see what was inside.

She reached out, paused slightly before the glass door, but still pushed it open.

Then, she saw the "patients" in the hospital lobby sitting very neatly and waiting.

Stormfront was stunned.

Stormfront had killed many people; this was beyond doubt. But she had never seen so many bizarre methods of death. When this image hit her eyes, the suffocating amount of information within it caused her thinking to stop instantly.

The light from the windows on both sides projected in. All the patients maintained the same posture: arms wrapped around their chests, hands placed on the sides of their necks, and heads tilted back, as if praying for something.

The moment her brain finished analyzing this information and Stormfront realized what had happened, she covered her neck and began to retch.

Suddenly, a "click" sound came from the hospital's broadcast, just like the sound of a microphone being turned on.

Stormfront was startled. She coughed hard twice, tried to straighten her waist, took two steps back, and said: "Who?! Who's there?!"

"Please have patient number 3203 go to consultation room 201. Please have patient number 3203 go to consultation room 201..."

A somewhat deep male voice came from the broadcast. It was a voice Stormfront had never heard before. She shook her head, the muscles on her neck twitching hard. After the initial panic, an indescribable anger surged up.

Instantly, a cyclone and storm invisible to the naked eye swept across the entire hospital lobby, tearing everything apart. Debris and dust fell along with limbs and blood. Stormfront gasped for air, laughing silently, and said: "Don't try to scare me with ghost stories!"

Suddenly, a voice sounded again from the broadcast that had fallen to the ground: "Please note, the patients' outdoor time has arrived. Unauthorized personnel, please go to the security room immediately to wait. Do not leave until you hear the broadcast."

"Repeating, the patients' outdoor time has arrived..."

Amidst the broadcast sound, Stormfront suddenly heard faint footsteps behind her. She turned around abruptly and saw a man in a hospital gown standing behind her, his body flashing with electric light.

Stormfront showed a disdainful smile. Just as she was about to raise her hand to kill him, she heard more footsteps appearing behind her. She turned her body back again and found countless patients in hospital gowns walking slowly toward her.

Stormfront took two steps back and said: "What do you want to do? I am a member of Vought's The Seven! Do you think you can beat me? What do you want to do? Stop it immediately..."

Seeing that those people not only didn't stop but walked faster and faster, for some reason, a trace of panic suddenly appeared in Stormfront's heart. Even if she knew these people couldn't beat her combined, people always instinctively feel fear when surrounded by their own kind.

Stormfront waved her hand, and a patient in the front row instantly turned into blood foam. She showed a wild smile again, thinking that this group of people would definitely scream and run away, just like what she had experienced before.

However, they didn't.

The patients just stared at Stormfront somewhat numbly and then walked toward her step by step, like a group of puppets or a group of zombies without consciousness.

Anyone would feel deep-seated eeriness and fear when facing a group of monsters that looked like humans but seemed to have no consciousness. Stormfront's mentality changed slightly. She wanted to reach out and knock everyone down, but when she raised her hand, she found her fingers trembling.

The increasingly thick smell of blood kept drilling into her nose. The oppressive and gloomy atmosphere of the mental hospital made everything look even more terrifying. Stormfront's arms also began to tremble. She swallowed, took two steps back, and said: "You wait, Vought won't let you off!"

Just as she turned to leave, a piercing alarm sound rang out from the broadcast again: "Please have patient number 3203 go to consultation room 201. Please have patient number 3203 go to consultation room 201..."

"Enough!"

Stormfront shouted. She waved her hand, and a shockwave shattered the broadcast equipment. However, the broadcast sound didn't stop. Only then did Stormfront realize that the voice coming from above her head was not a broadcast...

She turned around, looked up, and saw the figure standing on the second-floor corridor, looking down at her.

And at this moment, Stormfront didn't realize that her orientation and posture had become exactly the same as those "patients" who had been waiting in the lobby.

It was late at night. A faint "swishing" sound rang out in the dark hall. In the pitch-black hospital lobby, a figure holding a broom was sweeping the debris and severed limbs on the floor in a leisurely manner.

The original rows of seats had been reduced to fragments in Stormfront's angry attack. Now, in the entire lobby, only one chair and one female "patient" with black hair remained.

Lamp Lighter held the broom and swept past the feet of Stormfront's corpse. He noticed that one of Stormfront's lower legs was draped limply over the chair leg. He looked down and found that the bone inside the lower leg had been removed.

He shook his head, not thinking too much about it, just assuming that the terrifying doctor had come up with some new idea during surgery again.

He swept the floor slowly, sweeping all the messy debris created during the day to one side, clearing a path for people to enter and exit. For some reason, in such a terrifying environment, staying with a corpse tied in a strange posture, Lamp Lighter didn't feel afraid.

Perhaps it was because he knew that a beast that had already eaten its fill was less dangerous.

Lamp Lighter had long discovered that Dr. Schiller only treated one patient a day. If someone was already sitting in a chair, it meant that everyone else was safe.

He sighed, thinking that Dr. Schiller's treatment of Stormfront had taken about four hours, which meant the doctor should be very full today. Perhaps all the patients could have a good night's sleep tonight, including himself.

But things are unpredictable. Just as he finished his work, put the broom in the warehouse, and prepared to go to sleep, he suddenly saw a beam of light flash from the window on the side of the warehouse.

Lamp Lighter narrowed his eyes. Although he hadn't left this mental hospital for a long time, he could still tell that it should be the fleeting light of car headlights.

He walked to the window, opened it, looked around, and then found that in a small forest not far from the east side of the mental hospital, there seemed to be a few black shadows moving.

Lamp Lighter looked back while groping near the wall to turn off the light switch. But after turning off the light, he didn't leave; instead, he came to the window again to observe the scene over there through the window.

Sure enough, the few people in the small forest seemed to think that he, the cleaner, hadn't noticed anything unusual, and their activities became bold, even turning on the car headlights twice more.

Lamp Lighter took a deep breath. He knew something big was about to happen, so he opened the warehouse door with quick steps, wanting to go upstairs.

He wanted to return to his room to sleep early because he knew that the two flashes of car headlights would definitely wake up the beast that had just eaten its fill.

But he was still one step late. Just as he was walking up the stairs, Schiller walked down while buttoning his clothes. Seeing Lamp Lighter, he said: "Good evening, aren't you asleep yet?"

"Oh, not yet, Doctor. I just finished sweeping downstairs and was just about to go up to sleep."

"What was that flash of light just now?" Schiller narrowed his eyes, seemingly just woken up, and said: "Coming to such a mental hospital at this time, they must have some very urgent medical condition that needs treatment, right?"

Lamp Lighter opened his mouth, not knowing how to answer. He thought, if those suspicious shadows were Vought people, he should immediately give a positive answer. That way, there would be a few more patients waiting for consultation in the center of the hospital lobby tomorrow.

Schiller waved his hand impatiently and said: "You help me lead them over. I'll wait for them in the consultation room."

As he spoke, he turned and went upstairs.

After Schiller went up, Lamp Lighter stood on the stairs in a daze. He thought for a while, and finally turned to go to the warehouse, picked up the broom again, and began to sweep the floor.

While sweeping, he found three sneaky figures hovering in front of the main gate. Lamp Lighter walked to the side corridor and stood for a while. Sure enough, as soon as those people saw him leave, they immediately slipped in through the main gate.

They walked a little closer, and Lamp Lighter realized it was a white male, a black male, and an Asian female. As soon as they walked in from the main gate, they were stunned by the thick smell of blood inside.

Just then, with a "pop," all the lights in the lobby were turned on.

Lamp Lighter walked out of the corridor carrying the broom and said: "Are you all used to using the main gate for your infiltration missions?"

The white male among them immediately pulled out a gun and pointed it at Lamp Lighter. Lamp Lighter narrowed his eyes, not recognizing him. But after the white man with the gun adapted to the sudden intense light, he widened his eyes and said: "Lamp Lighter?!"

And the other two didn't see Lamp Lighter at first glance, but the bizarre and terrifying scene in the hall. Stormfront, whose name they were very familiar with and had cursed countless times, had her corpse tied to a chair in a strange posture at this time.

Yes, it was easy to see that it was a corpse, because the part below her chest and above her pelvis was nothing but a spine.

Her arms were crossed over her chest, her hands were stroking the sides of her neck, and her head was tilted back. The terrified expression on her face didn't seem to have dissipated, but she had clearly been dead for a long time.

"What's going on?" the black man said loudly. Just then, the white male who recognized Lamp Lighter wanted to shoot in anger. The black man stopped him, shook his shoulders, and said: "Wait! Frenchie! Wake up!"

The black man snatched his gun away, grabbed his head, and said: "Look at that! Stormfront! She's dead!"

Frenchie just wanted to roar in anger. He tilted his head slightly and saw Stormfront's terrifying state of death. All his words were instantly choked back. A feeling of nausea kept surging upward, and he covered his neck and began to retch.

The Asian female supported him. Frenchie vomited for a while, tried hard to stand up, and said: "What the hell is going on? Why are there so many... human organs in this hall..."

Just as he finished this sentence, the three people's eyes fell on the broom in Lamp Lighter's hand at the same time.

Lamp Lighter looked down at the blood foam on his broom and said: "I'm just a cleaner. If you want to know what's going on, you have to ask the doctor. The doctor happens to want to see you. Follow me."

As he spoke, he turned to walk upstairs. Frenchie shouted loudly: "Don't follow him! It must be a trap! He is the murderer who burned Mallory's grandson to death! A cruel superhero! He's in the same group as that The Seven!"

"He is, I'm not." A strange voice suddenly appeared on the second floor. The few people looked up and saw a doctor in a white coat resting his arms on the railing. Just as they saw him, the doctor straightened up and said: "I know what you want to come here for. The hard drive containing Vought's data is in my hands. If you want it, come over."

After speaking, he turned and walked toward a consultation room. Now the three people left there didn't know whether to go or stay.

This was not an ordinary world. If they didn't go, no one knew if the Lamp Lighter in front of them would suddenly explode and burn them all to charcoal, nor did they know what superpowers the mysterious doctor just now had, or if he would kill them immediately.

But if they left, this mission would be a complete failure, and the operation against Vought would also fall into a stalemate.

In the end, the black man made the decision. He scanned the surroundings with his eyes and lowered his voice: "It seems that the doctor is rational, unlike those crazy super-powered people."

"Maybe this is just a trap, Mother's Milk. Don't you find all this strange?" Frenchie still disagreed a bit.

"If it were a trap, the three of us should have become like her by now." The black male called Mother's Milk glanced at Stormfront and, watching Kimiko's constantly changing expressions, comforted her: "If I'm not mistaken, it should be the doctor just now who killed Stormfront. This shows that he might also have a grudge against The Seven."

"He killed Stormfront, ruled this hospital, and even recruited Lamp Lighter. This shows that he is very likely like us, determined to oppose superheroes. If we can get his help, the revenge we want to take will have hope."

Frenchie took a deep breath. After calming down, he also felt that Mother's Milk made sense. If the doctor had malicious intent, he could kill Stormfront, so they would have been dead long ago.

"And if he really killed Stormfront, he must have a way to kill these superhumans. We have to get this method. Hiding like this is not a solution."

Mother's Milk and Frenchie exchanged ideas and finally reached a consensus. They decided not to reveal the fact that there were others outside to support them, and the three of them followed Lamp Lighter up to see the doctor.

Just like that, the trio followed behind Lamp Lighter, traveling through the dark hospital. The night in this hospital was terrifyingly quiet. In any ward, no one dared to make a sound.

An extremely terrifying and eerie atmosphere enveloped the three of them, making them quiet down as well, as if afraid of being discovered by some beast.

After arriving in front of the consultation room and pushing the door open, it was a scene completely different from outside the hospital. It was a bright office. The warm light revealed warmth. There were various books and sundries on the bookshelf, and a pile of unorganized documents on the desk.

Lamp Lighter opened the door and let the three in. He stood by the door and said: "Doctor, I've brought them all."

"Thank you, go back and rest."

Lamp Lighter nodded and left without hesitation. Frenchie turned back and stared at him fixedly. Mother's Milk nudged Frenchie with his elbow, and Frenchie turned his head back.

But the action of Lamp Lighter turning and leaving without hesitation made Mother's Milk worry more. In his view, Lamp Lighter was already a very powerful super-powered person, but this doctor didn't need his protection at all.

Mother's Milk, who had been in contact with The Seven, knew very well that although these superheroes had very powerful strength, they brought a large group of bodyguards wherever they went, as if afraid that those ordinary people with no power to bind a chicken could hurt them.

Thinking of this, Mother's Milk turned to look at the doctor again. He looked very ordinary, just a standard doctor. The doctor walked behind the desk, sat down, looked up at them, and said: "Nice to meet you, my name is Schiller, Schiller Rodriguez. You can call me Dr. Schiller directly."

"Who are you? Why are you here? What's going on with Stormfront outside? Where is the data?" Frenchie asked almost impatiently.

Mother's Milk bumped Frenchie with his elbow again, signaling him not to be so impatient. Not to mention facing a strange doctor with unknown abilities, even for ordinary people, asking so many questions at the first meeting was too rude.

But unexpectedly, the doctor wasn't angry. Schiller just shook his head and said: "You have too many questions. First, find one you want to know most and ask."

Before Frenchie could speak, Kimiko's body next to him trembled slightly. Mother's Milk hurriedly went to comfort her. He opened his mouth and said: "That... that corpse outside, what's going on?"

"You should be more familiar with her than I am. She broke in here, and I killed her."

Mother's Milk opened his mouth and said: "She... broke in here? But isn't this originally Vought's mental hospital?"

"Who said that?"

Mother's Milk pursed his lips. He didn't know how to answer this question. Schiller continued to ask him: "Vought's mental hospital? Then have they cured any mental patients here?"

"I think... probably not. This place wasn't originally used to treat mental illness, right?"

"That's right, but I have cured all the patients here. So, whose hospital is this?"

Mother's Milk decided not to continue discussing this issue with him. He continued to ask: "So who exactly are you? And why did you come to this hospital?"

"I have already introduced myself. I am Schiller Rodriguez, a doctor. I know you might be guessing what other identities I have, but in fact, there are none. I really am just an ordinary doctor."

"Like all doctors, my vocation is to treat patients. In the last few months, I have achieved quite a lot in this hospital. However, the woman sitting in the lobby downstairs killed quite a few patients waiting for consultation, so she is sitting there now."

Mother's Milk immediately understood that this doctor was very likely to have a grudge against The Seven. He had seen too many such people—people who became crazy and abnormal because some important relatives were killed by superheroes, or appeared normal but were actually crazy long ago.

So, he cleared his throat and said: "We are all people who have had the same experience as you. We are currently dealing with Vought and the super-powered The Seven it organized. We hope to get help from you."

"I know. This is your purpose for coming here." Schiller picked up his glasses from the desk, put them on, turned to look at the dark sky outside, and said: "There is still a long time before dawn. We have time to talk slowly."

Mother's Milk shook his head and said: "No, you killed Stormfront. They all have trackers left by Vought in their bodies. They will find you soon..."

After speaking, Mother's Milk himself reacted. Logically speaking, the moment Stormfront was killed, Vought should have sent a large army to this mental hospital. But looking at the state of Stormfront's corpse, it didn't look like she had just died. Yet after so long, The Seven hadn't come.

Mother's Milk immediately looked up and asked: "Do you have a way to shield the tracker? Can you tell us?"

"I said, let's talk first."

Schiller tapped the table and said: "I can only treat one patient at a time, so you stay, and the two of them go to the consultation room next door to wait for a while."

Frenchie was about to refuse, but Mother's Milk stepped forward and pushed him out. While pushing, he whispered: "Better listen to him. And Kimiko's state is a bit unstable now. You go over there and accompany her."

After sending both of them out, Mother's Milk sat opposite Schiller, looked into Schiller's eyes, and asked: "What do you want to talk about?"

"Of course, the topic you are most interested in."

"What is the topic I am most interested in?"

"Superheroes."

"No, don't use that word!" Mother's Milk took a deep breath, his tone filled with irrepressible anger. He said: "This is not only insulting these few words, but also insulting this language."

Schiller shook his head and said: "You misunderstood. I'm not referring to that group of idiots packaged by Vought."

Mother's Milk kept staring into Schiller's eyes. He saw a calm and deep ocean in them. He seemed to be infected by this look and gradually calmed down. Schiller said:

"What I want to talk about are the real superheroes I have met."

Mother's Milk didn't quite understand what he meant. He shook his head slightly, but Schiller explained patiently: "I know, in your life, you have hardly encountered anything good. Most people who come to this hospital are like this. Some of them are very bad, almost hopeless, but everyone knows that this cannot be blamed on them."

"However, I am different from you. Fortunately, I have met many people who can be truly called superheroes during a certain period."

Schiller's slightly nostalgic tone successfully attracted Mother's Milk. He looked into Schiller's eyes and asked: "... What are they like?"

"Like you."

This was an answer completely beyond Mother's Milk's expectations. He didn't hear any words like glorious, great, or heroic from Schiller's mouth. Mother's Milk lowered his head and laughed at himself, saying: "Stop joking, with me..."

He made a slight trembling sound from his nose, as if he had heard the most absurd joke in the world. But Schiller said to him very seriously: "I'm not joking. They are the same as you and your companions."

"A group of ordinary people who need to eat, sleep, have their own jobs, and some are still in school."

Mother's Milk felt like he was hearing a myth. He said: "How is that possible? Shouldn't superheroes all be..."

He paused for a long time, seemingly unable to find an adjective, and finally could only use a few empty words to describe: "Just that kind of person wearing battle robes and uniforms, standing under the flashlights, and then shaking hands with people everywhere..."

"Aren't you talking about The Seven?"

Mother's Milk was choked, and finally said helplessly: "Alright, I really have no concept of this kind of person."

"How do you understand the three words: ordinary people, good people, and superheroes?"

Mother's Milk hesitated for a moment. His lips moved, and then he said: "Ordinary people are like us, with no superpowers. Good people... maybe they exist, but I haven't seen many. Superheroes..."

He shook his head, seemingly very much disliking mentioning this word. Then Schiller said: "In my opinion, they are one."

"The group of people I know, they are all ordinary people, have their own lives, get tired, get annoyed, and occasionally cause trouble."

"But they are also good people. Bleeding and getting hurt won't make them give up the justice they insist on. The character of some of them can even be described as noble."

"And superheroes..." Schiller also shook his head and said: "There were no superheroes in this world originally, only a group of ordinary people trying to be good people."

Mother's Milk let out a dry cough from his throat. For some reason, he tilted his head to avoid Schiller's gaze. He felt his eyes a bit sore and the corners of his mouth trembling. Clearly, this sentence reminded him of many, many people, among whom was his father.

Mother's Milk's emotions finally became somewhat uncontrollable. The sound of his breathing was trembling. He said:

"Perhaps you don't know, my father... he was just that. He... he was just an ordinary person, but... he tried hard to sue Vought and seek justice for those mothers infected by Vought's drugs..."

Mother's Milk wiped his face and said: "In the end... he died of exhaustion. It's not an adjective..."

"He didn't have any super strength or self-healing ability. He wasn't a superhuman. He couldn't go without sleep or food. So, in the end, he died."

Mother's Milk stretched out his hands, covered his mouth, gritted his teeth, and said: "But now, the word hero is occupied by that group of demons who deceive the world. Now, as long as I read this word, I feel sick..."

"Then why not take it back?"

"We are doing it, but..."

"I know you are very sad, but have you ever thought that your father's experience has actually given you a reminder? This method won't work."

Schiller looked into Mother's Milk's eyes. Mother's Milk saw that the calm ocean in the doctor's eyes suddenly surged with endless black tides. He heard Schiller say:

"They are a group of criminals."

"And the only ones who can deal with criminals are criminals."

Mother's Milk repeated in a low voice: "The only ones who can deal with criminals are criminals?"

"Who are you?"

"Who are we?"

"You are revenge."

"We are revenge?... That's right, we are revenge. We are..."

"... The Boys."