Chapter 8: Even the Hardest Exterior Hides a Warm, Soft Interior

Bucher and Huey moved the invisible man into a sealed room in an abandoned factory and shoved him into a prepared iron cage.

To prevent the chip inside the invisible man from being tracked, Huey went to purchase shielding aluminum foil, while French and Bucher worked frantically to electrify the cage.

“You’re dead men—better let me go right now!”

Even locked inside the electrified cage, the invisible man remained arrogant: “Otherwise, when the Patriot comes, he’ll slaughter all of you!”

“Well~ you heard him—he says the Patriot will kill us.”

Alvin pulled out his phone, switched to camera mode, and aimed it at the man in the cage: “Oh my God, this is terrifying—if the Patriot finds out we kidnapped the Seven Titans, he’ll use his heat vision to slice us into bloody chunks!”

“What’s your idea, French?”

Without a word, Bucher jammed a stun baton into the cage and turned to look at French.

The invisible man convulsed from the shock but kept cursing and threatening.

“My idea is to shove this fucking piece of shit back into your mother’s womb!”

French spat curses, then lit a cigarette, took a deep drag, and exhaled smoke: “He can restructure carbon atoms in his skin into diamond-hard tissue—conventional methods won’t kill him.”

This was precisely the source of the invisible man’s arrogance: though captured, his skin was as hard as diamond, and these few men could never kill him.

He had once been waterboarded 183 times over six months in the Middle East before he even spoke once.

But did this group have six months?

No—they didn’t even have six hours. He’d been out of contact for twenty-four hours already, and Watertech would discover it soon.

In no time, the Patriot would find this place and slaughter every last one of these bastards!

“It’s not me who’s trapped—it’s you,” the invisible man laughed louder now: “If you don’t want to die, let me go right now.”

Bucher and French couldn’t think of any way to kill the invisible man in the short term and fell silent.

“I have an idea.”

Alvin, unwilling to waste time, leaned against the doorframe and said: “No matter how hard a man’s exterior, his rectum is still warm and soft, isn’t it?”

Huey, returning with the shielding aluminum foil, stared blankly at this remark.

But Bucher and French exchanged knowing smirks: “He’s right—even if his skin is as hard as diamond, his rectum and organs are definitely soft!”

Inside the cage, the invisible man’s arrogance vanished instantly: “No, no, no—what do you want? Money? I’ll give you plenty—let me go, I swear I won’t bother you, and about the bugs, I promise I won’t say a word!”

But his promises meant nothing to Bucher—like toilet paper: “Get some sleep.”

Without hesitation, he grabbed the stun baton and gave the invisible man another brutal shock.

“French, prepare a little surprise for this bastard,” Bucher said.

“No problem—I’m great at this.”

French agreed and walked off with the bag—he needed to buy some raw materials.

“Wait, wait… aren’t you going to interrogate him?” Huey finally realized, horrified: “You’re going to kill him? That’s a national treasure—a Titan!”

“Sometimes I really wonder if you even have a brain.”

Bucher sneered: “He’s seen our faces—do you really think he’ll let us live? Or are you planning to wait until the Patriot finds us and turns us all into roasted chickens with his heat vision?”

“But…”

Huey’s mind was reeling.

He’d only wanted revenge on the Train—how had it spiraled so wildly out of control?

“I don’t have time to explain. If you don’t want to die, watch this bastard,” Bucher shoved the stun baton into Huey’s hands, glanced at Alvin, and signaled to step outside.

Outside, Bucher’s mind was filled with his wife Rebecca—he couldn’t wait: “Now, let’s talk about your deal.”

“Of course, Mr. Bucher.”

Alvin spoke like a shrewd, calculating merchant: “I give you one piece of information—you get me what I want. In return, I tell you the whereabouts of Mrs. Rebecca Bucher. Simple. Beneficial for both of us, right?”

“Why should I believe you?” Bucher’s face was cold, brimming with distrust.

“Your wife attended a Watertech gathering eight years ago and was taken into a room by the Patriot,” Alvin’s smile never faded as he spoke slowly: “Three hours later, Rebecca Bucher left the room—but vanished from the world, officially declared dead. Am I right?”

Bucher’s chest heaved violently, his eyes blazing—but he held himself in check: “CIA already knows this. It’s not evidence.”

“Then let me rephrase.”

Alvin looked at Bucher with a half-smile, his tone laced with mockery: “After your wife was raped by the Patriot, she gave birth to a child, and Watertech secretly hid both her and the baby. Does that information earn your trust yet?”

BOOM!

Bucher’s mind was struck by a thunderclap.

He… was cuckolded?!

And his wife had given birth to the Patriot’s child!

“No, impossible—this can’t be!” Bucher’s face flushed crimson, veins bulging on his forehead as he roared: “You’re lying! This is impossible!”

“The child is special—born with superpowers, inheriting the Patriot’s genes.”

Alvin didn’t care whether Bucher could handle it—he pressed on: “Watertech values him so much they’ve hidden Rebecca and the child in a secret compound—even keeping it from the Patriot.”

“Born with superpowers… special?” Despite his rage, Bucher caught the key phrase.

“That’s what I need you to get for me.”

Alvin’s gaze dimmed slightly: “Compound Five. Watertech secretly injected it into the infant’s body to create a natural-born superhuman.”

“Whether it’s the Patriot or the Invisible Man—”

He locked eyes with Bucher’s bewildered face and spoke slowly: “What gave them their powers… wasn’t God. It was Compound Five.”

Bucher felt a deafening crash—his mind went blank.

Superpowers… came from a drug?!

“No wonder… no wonder Watertech could control so many superhumans!”

All the scattered clues finally clicked in Bucher’s mind—the reason his wife vanished, why Watertech hid her!

The child inherited the Patriot’s genes—a true, natural-born superhuman… who never needed a drug injection.

“If I get you Compound Five, you’ll tell me where my wife is?”

Bucher believed him now—Compound Five was something easily verifiable.

“Correct. That’s our deal.”

Alvin handed him a slip of paper: “This is the lead. With your resources, it shouldn’t be hard to find, right?”

“Claw Woman?” The paper bore a name and a phone number. Bucher frowned: “You mean she has Compound Five?”

“Not certain—but highly likely.”

Alvin smiled: “She’s close to the Train. I mean… very close.”

Bucher clenched the paper, staring at Alvin’s pale, refined face with venom: “Fine. I accept. But if I find out you’ve lied to me, I swear—I’ll make you experience despair in every possible way.”

“Mr. Bucher, you can always trust me.”

Alvin’s expression turned solemn, earnest: “As a merchant, I have my own pride to uphold!”

Then, silently in his mind, he added: …unless the bastard’s a piece of shit.