Strategic Hesitation
"The timing is wrong!"
Deo pondered this for a moment and then understood.
"You mean we should hold back and let the government people make their move first?"
Luke affirmed this, his expression deep. "There's a natural sequence to things. Hector isn't just a simple murderer; he's a threat to national security. National security is the responsibility of the government and the military. They must act first. Only if they fail does it become our turn. The order cannot be broken."
"But what if the government's people actually take him out?"
"Then that's perfect. It saves us from sticking our necks out." He finished with a slight shake of his head. "Deo, I need to remind you: we're a gang, not superheroes. We can harvest public goodwill, but we can't completely undermine the government's authority.
"Besides, Hector isn't easy to deal with. His power is terrifying. Once he senses fear, he can exploit weaknesses. To eliminate him, we need to be fully prepared."
"Understood."
Deo let out a quiet breath of relief. The boss was right. The essence of a gang is an opposition to the legitimate government. If they stepped in to handle a national security crisis for the government, they might earn public acclaim, but they would inevitably face retaliation afterward.
A criminal organization is ultimately part of the state machine; they can influence, even manipulate, that machine to a certain extent, but they absolutely cannot stand in direct opposition to it.
With Luke's instructions issued, the Young Master Gang, which had been subtly stirring, settled back into the shadows.
The Predator Unleashed
Since the press conference, Hector seemed to have shed his shackles. Like a wild beast out of its cage, he began to kill openly. Police, pedestrians—everyone became his prey.
He was a walking source of poison. Wherever he went, he left behind vast swaths of shriveled corpses.
In just half a day, over a hundred people died. The Mayor had no choice but to activate a Level Three Alert, urging citizens to stay indoors and find safe places to hide. Drones were dispatched to track Hector across the city.
This was no longer a matter of apprehending a criminal; it was a war between one man and an entire city.
At this moment, Hector had finally achieved his childhood dream: becoming the focus of attention, watched by people all over the world.
He was infatuated with this feeling, and even more so with the scent of fear emanating from the city. Fear was like delicious, savory food. He only had to open his mouth slightly to devour it whole. The feeling of ecstasy that spread from the depths of his soul was intoxicating.
In a sense, the current Hector was no longer human. His will was being controlled by the Yellow Energy. He was just one step away from becoming Parallax. If he completed his transformation, that would be a true catastrophe.
The Fourth Infantry Division Arrives
At 5:00 PM, thirteen M1A2 SEP tanks rolled into Coast City. The tanks bore the large number "4." This number held special significance. In the US, only one unit was authorized to display that number on its tanks: the Fourth Mechanized Infantry Division, also known as the Ivy Division or the 4th ID. They were one of the most combat-capable mechanized units in the US, the pride of the Army.
To take down Hector, Dick Cheney had clearly spent a fortune.
News of the tanks entering the city spread quickly, and Hector was aware of it. He did not retreat. Instead, he descended like a god to hover directly over the 4th ID column.
General Carrick, Commander of the 4th ID, opened communication.
"Target individual Hector Hammond sighted. Requesting orders."
In the White House, Dick Cheney gave the command without hesitation.
"Destroy him. At all costs."
Upon receiving the order, the grim-faced Carrick raised his right hand.
Boom!
A tremendous sound erupted overhead. Countless soldiers swarmed out, taking up advantageous positions along both sides of the street. Various heavy and light weapons were aimed at the big-headed monster in the sky.
Simultaneously, four missile launchers waited on the outskirts, six F-16 fighter jets scrambled from the nearest airfield, and sixteen massive artillery cannons stood ready.
"Fire!"
Carrick roared, violently bringing his right hand down.
In an instant, the world seemed to shake. Countless bullets and shells rained towards the sky. The bullets crisscrossed, forming an impenetrable web of fire.
The roaring was deafening. Straight lines of red light connected the earth and the sky—the trails left by the bullets ripping through the air. Such a scene typically only existed in movies, but it was now happening in reality.
In a nearby building, five metahumans wearing FBI uniforms watched the front line nervously. This intensity of attack was beyond what any normal human could withstand. Even an aircraft carrier would be riddled with holes. Maeve, the only female among them, couldn't help but ask,
"Can they succeed?"
Stan Dalov, the leader of the five and the most powerful fighter in the Metahuman Division, shook his head.
"I've seen his combat video. His telekinetic intensity is at least seven times mine."
Seven times!
The others couldn't hide their shock. They had personally experienced Stan Dalov's power. His telekinetic ability was incredibly strong; he could easily lift a three-ton truck. How powerful must Hector be if his ability was seven times that?
After a few seconds of silence, Stan Dalov said,
"Don't think about capturing him alive. Resolve the fight by any means necessary. We must not hold back."
Everyone's expression sharpened. After exchanging glances, they nodded in unison. The order from above was to capture him alive, but an order was just an order. If capturing him meant losing their lives, it wasn't worth it.
The Vortex of Power
Just then, a dull roar came. The seven leading M1A2 SEP tanks opened fire simultaneously. High-explosive shells joined the torrent of bullets aimed at the large-headed monster in the air.
Carrick's gaze was sharp, filled with killing intent. The next second, his expression froze as if he'd been slapped.
The air around Hector suddenly surged, rotating clockwise. The speed increased rapidly, forming a visible air vortex. The vortex was enormous, spanning over a hundred meters, twisting and tearing. The overwhelming force changed everything in its vicinity.
Bullets lost their trajectory. Artillery shells arced wildly. The ordnance that flew toward the vortex all departed in bizarre ways.
The soldiers were stunned. They had never seen anything like this. Those were high-explosive and armor-piercing shells, yet a person was manually changing their course.
This was utterly insane!
Hector spread his arms and laughed heartily. He absolutely loved this feeling.
Come on!
Shoot me, all of you! The more the better, the faster the better!
Carrick felt his personal honor profoundly insulted. No one had ever dared to treat the 4th ID with such contempt, never! Enraged, he disregarded the potential civilian casualties and ordered the F-16 fighters to attack.
At the same time, five Apache helicopters lifted off. Each was loaded with two M61 Vulcan cannons.
Accompanied by the harsh rattling sound, spiraled armor-piercing rounds tore through the air, creating visible ripples.
The 20mm spiraled armor-piercing rounds were unlike ordinary ammunition. The high-speed rotation gave the warhead tremendous penetrating power and velocity. They could even punch through a tank. Arguably, these rounds were the peak of conventional firearm lethality.
Under Carrick's determined gaze, dozens of spiraled rounds plunged into the vortex. The tearing force created by the rotating rounds fought against the air's repulsive force. Most were deflected, but two managed to pass through the layers of obstruction, leaving two wide, deep gashes of blood on Hector's ugly head.
"Good!"
Carrick furiously punched the air, ordering the pilots to attack with full force and turn the damned, ugly, big-headed monster into paste.
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