…
"The satellite feed shows Mindstorm's current position roughly 2.5 kilometers west of us."
"Two and a half kilometers? Fuck. Should've stolen a couple motorcycles while we were at it."
Leon, dressed in his Soldier Boy Suit, rode atop his personal mount—Arcee, Motorcycle Mode. Butcher and Hughie followed in a "zero-dollar purchase" Hummer they'd liberated from the roadside.
When they reached the end of a narrow forest road deep in the woods, the Hummer proved too bulky to proceed. They had no choice but to stop and continue on foot.
The moment they stepped out, Hughie eagerly pulled out a tablet to check their position relative to Mindstorm. The day Homelander died felt closer than ever—he could barely contain his excitement.
Butcher, hearing the distance, cursed under his breath.
2.5 kilometers through rugged mountain forest terrain. On foot, that would take nearly an hour.
Having grown used to the convenience of superhuman physiology, he immediately opened the Hummer's trunk and pulled out the remaining dozen vials of Temp V from his sling bag.
"Oi, Hughie."
He tossed a vial over.
Hughie caught it, frowning slightly. "Isn't it a bit early to use it?"
"Not necessary," Butcher smirked, "if you feel like hiking 2.5 kilometers through this mess with your normal human legs."
Hughie pictured it—and shuddered.
"…Yeah. I'll take it."
Leon approached with a faint smile, reached into Butcher's bag, and pulled out two more vials.
"One's not enough. Take two."
"Mindstorm's not someone you half-ass."
Butcher and Hughie exchanged a glance.
"Fair point."
"We've never tried double-dosing before," Hughie said with a boyish grin.
Butcher didn't hesitate. He injected the second vial immediately.
Hughie followed suit.
Whether it was psychological or real, they both felt stronger than when they'd taken a single dose.
At this point, all they knew was that Temp V gave them power.
They had no idea about the long-term neurological damage.
Maeve and Starlight—who did know—had both been neutralized by Leon beforehand.
The two men now showed clear signs of Power Dependency Syndrome.
As the saying goes:
I could endure the darkness—if I had never seen the light.
Leon watched them inject the second dose with a smile.
For a brief moment, he felt himself drifting further toward the path of chaotic amusement.
Ah, whatever.
Who doesn't like a little fun?
He chuckled and retrieved a pair of Cyclops-Style Tactical Visor Goggles from Arcee's cockpit.
"Arcee. I'm trusting you with my vision."
"Leave it to me."
Her mature voice echoed through his Bluetooth Link as she lifted into the air, providing Leon with a live aerial perspective—like a tactical minimap.
In a sense, Mindstorm posed more danger to Leon than Homelander did.
Like Superman, Leon's physical resistance was formidable.
But mental resistance?
Nearly nonexistent.
Still, judging from how Soldier Boy had confronted Mindstorm head-on in canon without excessive caution, Leon reasoned that even if caught briefly, he likely wouldn't be permanently controlled.
And unlike the original Soldier Boy, Leon was significantly stronger—and prepared.
With proper countermeasures in place, Mindstorm's frail physique wasn't going to sneak-control him anytime soon.
Information made all the difference.
Bruce Wayne would agree.
"I've located him," Arcee reported. Then, curiously, "Why go through all this trouble? You could simply have me capture him."
"Hey. I don't like the word 'command,'" Leon corrected, serious.
"You're not my servant. You're my partner. My family. My—"
"Okay, okay!" Arcee cut him off, flustered.
"Enough."
Then, softly:
"Besides bipolar disorder, Mindstorm suffers from severe paranoid delusional disorder. His cabin and surrounding area are rigged with high-yield explosives."
"If something goes wrong, you could get hurt."
"And if you get hurt… I'll worry."
"Arcee~"
A drop of pale yellow synthetic lubricant dripped from above onto Leon's lips.
He wiped it away and looked up—only to see Arcee's retreating rear wheel vanish into the sky.
Moments later, Butcher approached.
"Alright. Care to tell us what we're walking into?"
Leon raised one finger.
"Just one rule. No eye contact. Keep your eyes closed."
"And if—" Hughie swallowed.
"There is no 'if.'"
"As long as you don't meet his gaze, you'll be fine."
Leon smiled.
"I'll handle the rest. You just lead the way."
(And act as bait.)
He didn't say that part out loud.
Butcher and Hughie immediately complied, squinting and blinking awkwardly as they marched forward with exaggerated caution.
If Soldier Boy feared Mindstorm's mind control, their Temp V bodies certainly wouldn't resist it.
Better safe than dead.
They entered the forest.
A few hundred meters in—
Leon suddenly raised a hand.
He pointed down at the tripwire brushing his boot.
The three exchanged silent looks and carefully detoured around the dense mine cluster to avoid alerting Mindstorm prematurely.
Soon, they approached the cabin.
Outside sat an orange riding mower, engine still ticking from recent shutdown.
BOOM!!!!!
Leon—walking point—"accidentally" triggered a high-yield explosive and was blown backward with a shouted "Fuck!"
Butcher and Hughie weren't spared.
"He's running toward Butcher," Arcee warned through comms. "Shall I intercept with the 'Ex-Wife' missile or plasma cannon?"
"Absolutely not!"
Leon barked back.
"You think he's built like us? If you vaporize him, what if he doesn't drop loot? And the area's still seeded with explosives."
Lately, Leon's luck had been abysmal.
Time to trust in superstition.
Come on. Give me gold.
He drew the long-unused Infinite Desert Eagle from his thigh holster.
Eyes closed.
He fired blindly toward the coordinates Arcee marked near Butcher.
BANG BANG BANG BANG BANG—
Thud.
The sound of a bullet striking flesh.
Butcher—enhanced by Temp V—wouldn't react like that.
That meant—
Mindstorm.
Leon leapt high and landed beside the wounded psychic.
One punch.
Mindstorm collapsed.
Leon immediately dumped the contents of Butcher's sling bag and pulled it over Mindstorm's head, blocking all vision.
System! Hurry! Sign in while he's still warm!
[Prompt: Initiate today's Daily Sign-In?]
Stop asking and roll it!
[Ding. Daily Sign-In complete. Congratulations. You have obtained: "Mental Control Immunity."]
[Mental Control Immunity: You are immune to all forms of mind control.]
[Flavor Text: Rise—no longer a puppet.]
"YES!!!!!"
Finally.
A GOLD PULL.
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