Just three days ago.
A high-definition video clip, with the beginning and end cut out, suddenly blew up on Twitter, YouTube, and all kinds of dark web forums.
The footage showed exactly what happened that night in a dead-end alley in New York: Holander using Heat Vision to blow the heads off those two street thugs in an instant.
It was grueso. Brutal. The visual impact of two heads bursting like waterlons sent shockwaves across the Arican internet.
The person who posted the video was Thomas, that sleazy bastard who had been hiding upstairs trying to blackmail them.
He had deliberately cut out the part where the thugs talked about raping the pregnant woman.
But people weren’t blind. Even with the clip chopped up, they could still see the woman slumped in the corner of the fra, clutching her belly.
It was obvious this was a superhero saving soone in danger.
And less than two hours after the video went viral, the pregnant woman Holander had saved showed trendous courage.
Under enormous pressure from public opinion, she recorded a video herself and posted it online.
In the video, sobbing, she told everyone what had really happened.
"If Mr. Holander hadn’t co down from the sky, those two animals would’ve tortured and my baby to death!
He didn’t kill innocent people. He killed them to protect ! He’s the one who truly saved my life!"
By all rights, once the victim ca forward to clarify the truth, the whole thing should have died down. It might even have won Holander a wave of good publicity.
But Vought International’s enemies, the anti-Supe and anti-Holander politicians, along with the keyboard warriors hiding behind their screens, were never going to pass up such a perfect chance to attack Holander.
No matter the reason, it was an undeniable fact that Holander had carried out vigilante justice in broad daylight and brutally killed two Arican citizens who had not been convicted of any cri.
An unprecedented online war instantly tore Arican public opinion apart.
The first camp consisted of keyboard warriors and paid trolls hired by politicians, all waving the banners of "human rights" and "the law."
They hamred away at their keyboards online.
"Even if it was attempted rape, that should’ve been left to the cops and the courts! Who the hell does Holander think he is, killing people on the spot?!"
"A Supe who can take lives whenever he feels like it, without a trial, without a verdict, isn’t a hero. He’s a fascist! An executioner!"
"Today he kills thugs because he feels sorry for a pregnant woman. Tomorrow, is he gonna kill regular people like us just because he’s in a bad mood?
Boycott Holander! Demand that Vought International hand him over to face justice!"
The second camp, naturally, was made up of ordinary people at the bottom and die-hard supporters of strength. Of course, Vought’s paid trolls were mixed in too.
After all, Vought belonged to Soldier Boy now, so of course they had to help Holander.
They fired back furiously at those hypocritical argunts.
"Shut the fuck up, you sanctimonious assholes! That piece of trash threatened to kick a pregnant woman’s stomach in. He could die ten thousand tis and it still wouldn’t be enough!"
"Wait for the cops? By the ti the cops got there, that pregnant woman would’ve been a corpse!
Holander did the right thing! Burn every last one of those scumbags to ash!"
...
...
The two sides fought endlessly online, hurling insults at each other.
But under wave after wave of public backlash, on the massive screen in Vought Tower’s PR departnt, Holander’s approval ratings, which had once sat firmly at the top, began dropping at a rate visible to the naked eye.
If this had happened half a month ago, seeing his approval ratings nosedive might have sent the desperately approval-starved Holander into an emotional collapse.
But now, sitting in The Seven’s conference room inside Vought Tower, Holander held a cup of warm milk and watched the flashing red downward line on the screen. To everyone’s surprise, his face was calm.
He didn’t fly into a rage. His eyes didn’t turn red.
Of course, he was probably still pissed deep down, but compared with before, his emotional control had clearly improved a great deal.
"Father was right... so people’s love isn’t just fake. It’s stupid as hell."
Holander took a small sip of milk and looked out at the bustling city of New York beyond the window.
What surfaced in his mind was the pregnant woman’s grateful tears after surviving the ordeal, not the noisy abuse flooding the internet.
"I don’t need love from you idiots... I don’t need you..."
Holander murmured to himself.
He no longer seed like that giant man-child held hostage by approval ratings.
However, a tree may wish for stillness, but the wind will not stop.
Holander had already cald down.
But the politicians still refused to let it go.
On the afternoon of the fourth day after the "vigilante killing incident" began to fernt,
the plaza directly in front of Vought Tower in New York was packed with people, and cara flashes glittered like a silver sea.
Thousands of protesters held signs reading "Stop Supe Violence," "Holander, Get Out of New York," and "We Need Law, Not Tyrants," surrounding the entire plaza so tightly that water could not pass through.
At the very center of the crowd stood a temporary platform.
A black-haired woman in a sharp black business suit, with piercing eyes and an intensely stirring presence, stood on the stage with a microphone in hand, delivering a fiery public political speech.
Congresswoman Victoria Neuman.
"Look at this building! Look at those so-called heroes hiding behind that glass curtain wall!"
Neuman’s voice blasted through the speakers, echoing across the entire plaza and even carrying into the building itself.
"They claim they’re protecting us, but in reality, they’ve turned our city into a slaughterhouse where they can do whatever the hell they want!"
"Holander burned two citizens to death in the street!
Yes, those citizens may have committed cris. They may have been scum!
But on Arican soil, judgnt should co from a judge’s gavel, not from the Heat Vision of a dictator wrapped in the Arican flag!"
Neuman’s voice burned with passion.
"Today, we must send Vought International and The Seven a warning. This country does not belong only to Supes!"
The crowd below ignited at once, erupting into thunderous cheers and agreent.
Neuman looked at the furious crowd beneath the stage, a cold, satisfied glint flashing in her eyes.
The reason she had stepped forward at this mont as the "anti-Vought vanguard" was simple.
It wasn’t only for political capital. It was for revenge.
After all, Benjamin had crushed Stan Edgar’s neck with his own hands.
Before his death, Edgar had told Neuman that if he died, she had to find a chance to get revenge on Vought and Soldier Boy.
Because Stan Edgar had not only been the forr CEO of Vought International. He was also the adoptive father who had raised Neuman from childhood and given her power and status.
Neuman had listened to Edgar and had been searching for an opportunity ever since.
Because by nature, her public identity was that of an anti-Supe, anti-Holander, anti-Vought politician.
In the original storyline, Neuman was a polished self-interested operator who would betray Edgar after receiving a death threat from Holander.
But now, everything had changed.
Because Holander had never threatened her. Because the true owner of Vought International was now Benjamin. And Benjamin had killed her only family.
So Neuman, who should have been Vought’s mole, had now beco an anti-Supe politician filled with hatred.
She planned to use the political thods she knew best to drag Benjamin and Holander, that arrogant father-and-son pair, down from their pedestal once and for all.
Of course, this was also because neither of them had gone to threaten her.
...
"If Vought International refuses to hand over the murderer,
then I will personally submit a bill to Congress demanding full judicial restrictions on The Seven and a freeze on their funding!"
Neuman’s final sentence landed like a bomb, sending the entire crowd into a frenzy.
The waves of protest grew louder and louder, almost shaking the glass of Vought Tower to pieces.
Deafening chants swept across the whole plaza.
Standing at the edge of the platform, Victoria Neuman maintained the trademark compassionate expression of a politician.
But anyone looking closely would notice the satisfaction glittering in her beautiful, wide eyes.
Because this was exactly the effect she wanted.
The people’s anger was the perfect political bargaining chip.
As long as she dragged those high-and-mighty superheroes down from their pedestal, she could not only gain greater power, but also avenge her dead adoptive father. She had already lost her undercover identity on Vought’s side and lost her adoptive father too. Naturally, she needed more.
But just as Neuman was about to lift the microphone and continue her highly inflammatory speech,
"Boom!"
Everyone instinctively raised their heads and looked up at the sky.
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