Just as Starlight was getting up, washing her face, and bracing herself for another day full of negative energy, a superhuman battle was unfolding high above the Pacific Ocean.
There was no such thing as a "supervillain" in this world. They existed only in Vought's movies and comic books. Everyone played hero, kept things friendly, acted out little dramas for the cameras, fooled some idiots, and got paid. Why bother with real violence?
Stormfront was already in a sorry state. She repeatedly struck out with lightning to force Joey to slow his pursuit, but it did nothing to stop the distance between them from closing. Especially after one lightning strike failed to hit its mark, both of them realized the same thing—
Lightning couldn't cause him any real harm.
To this day, Stormfront still couldn't understand why he was so furious. In her worldview, supes like herself and Joey were the same kind—superior beings. Whites could barely count as human, and as for blacks and yellows, they were no different from livestock.
Did anyone ever care how many animals they killed in a hunt?
"Joey, don't turn against your own kind over things like this."
"You must pay the price for what you've done!"
With a sudden burst of speed, Joey closed the gap and grabbed the hem of Stormfront's clothing. She accelerated instantly, twisting her body and slamming an elbow into him, sending Joey crashing straight into the ocean.
"Use your brain, Joey! People like us don't pay consequences for anything we do."
Stormfront had already figured out how to shake him off. She stretched out both hands, gathering power. A vortex several times stronger than before began to form, while she veered closer towards the coastline.
"Joey, I know you can hear me! You need to calm down and stop chasing me. Otherwise, the two of us will die together with all the insects living along the coast!"
Of course Joey could hear her.
At that very moment, he could even hear the cries and sobs of people thousands of miles away along the West African coast—those who had lost everything to the hurricane.
Joey burst out of the sea. With a light breath, he froze part of the ocean's surface, then used both hands to hurl dozens of tons of ice like a discus towards Stormfront's escape path.
He might not yet know how to responsibly wield his extraordinary power—but he knew exactly how it should not be used.
Stormfront's actions had already crossed his moral bottom line.
Joey never considered himself a saint, nor did he demand saintly standards from others—including Vought's morally bankrupt superheroes.
No one said that having superpowers meant living like Spider-Man, believing that with great power came great responsibility, abandoning normal life to dedicate oneself entirely to vigilantism.
He acknowledged and tolerated the gray areas of this world. But something as pitch-black as Stormfront was a calamity to everyone.
Stormfront casually threw out another bolt of lightning, shattering the flying slab of ice. At the same time, she couldn't help but marvel at Joey's overwhelming strength.
"Look at the power you have! Why waste it fighting your own kind?"
Joey lunged at her again through the mist of shattered ice, but halfway through was forced to stop and smooth out the pressure differential—otherwise, the massive typhoon Stormfront had summoned would sweep across the entire South Sea island chain.
Watching Stormfront draw ever closer to the coastline, Joey didn't know what to do.
There was no doubt Stormfront was an incredibly powerful supe. If he kept pursuing her, their struggle would inevitably bring disaster to countless coastal residents.
Unless—
Stormfront had committed crimes on this scale, and Joey had chased her with the intent to subdue her and bring her to justice.
But in this world... how could someone like her ever receive the justice she deserved?
This was the sky above the Pacific Ocean. There were no witnesses. No evidence.
Only him.
And her.
"Stormfront, stop!"
She ignored him completely.
Joey shouted in the direction she was fleeing, as if making up his mind.
"Clara, this is your last chance!"
Stormfront still didn't care.
She was exceptionally tolerant toward all white supes, treating them as "her own people." Joey was no exception.
Besides, as one of the strongest supes alive, she had undergone extensive testing by Vought. There was almost nothing on this planet that could truly threaten her.
Behind her, unseen—
Joey's eyes gradually began to glow red.
Two thick beams of heat vision pierced straight through her from behind with ease. The residual heat instantly ignited her entire body.
Joey's blood-red cape billowed in the air as he watched the burning figure fall from over a thousand meters above into the sea.
At last, the cries and prayers of the slaughtered no longer echoed in his ears.
Finally.
Peace.
For most superheroes, crossing that line was unthinkable. For Superman, it was even more so.
An ordinary person might need careful planning, preparation, and time to kill one person.
But for Superman, killing a single person or destroying an entire planet was merely the difference between crushing one ant and drowning an entire nest.
Joey had always feared exercising responsibility precisely because of days like this.
He was a Kryptonian bathed in the light of the yellow sun, yet he knew he did not possess Clark Kent's kindness or boundless compassion.
When one carries a weapon of such magnitude, who can guarantee they won't be seized by the urge to kill?
At the very least, Joey couldn't.
The moment he resolved to take a life, every other possible solution in his mind gave way to that decision.
Without a word, Joey left the sea behind and flew towards Kansas.
Perhaps others would feel panic or regret the first time they killed, but after thinking it through, Joey felt only an overwhelming calm.
And the certainty that this decision had been incredibly efficient.
---
Hughie was facing the burden of killing as well.
When pressing a single button could so easily determine whether someone lived or died—and that person posed a very real, immediate threat to your life—
[ How could you possibly resist pressing it? ]
"This isn't your fault."
Butcher stepped in, speaking softly to comfort Hughie.
"He was trying to run. You did it to protect us."
He wanted to pat Hughie on the shoulder, but Hughie was covered head to toe in Translucent's flesh and blood, blown apart by C4, leaving Butcher nowhere to place his hand.
[ That's right. Either you die, or he does. Think about Robin—do you want to end up like your girlfriend? ]
"You didn't say anything just now, did you?"
This wasn't the first time Hughie had heard that whisper in his ear. At first, he thought it was Butcher. Later, he realized the voice appeared even when he was alone.
It had been that very voice urging him to press the button in time, preventing Translucent from escaping.
Hughie began to suspect that the extreme pressure of the past few days had caused him to develop some kind of psychological problem.