Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 520 Perverted Fetishes
As Homelander angrily scanned the ground, Ma Zhaodi was running away with his head in his hands, along with other citizens.

Every now and then, it would look back at the people of its motherland in the sky.

It's clear he's furious and wants to find Ghost Face immediately and execute him cruelly.

But what does the masked man have to do with me, a good citizen of New York, Ma Zhaodi? I'm just a passerby.

Within two minutes of Homelander fainting from the violent explosion and his rising in anger, the compound potion, which he had been precisely controlled in terms of dosage and occasionally replenished by Ma Zhaodi, finally reached its limit. This caused his face and body beneath the Ghost Mask to twitch and distort from their Shining Glory member state, before returning to their original appearance just seconds later.

The black robe and ghost mask, along with the original set of clothes he was wearing, vanished instantly and were returned to the system space. He put on a new set of clothes from the mall, and then seamlessly drank a sip of wine. As a result, the two bullet wounds that he had added to his waist and legs half an hour earlier also disappeared without a trace.

After drinking another dose of the compound decoction, Ma Zhaodi instantly transformed back into a portly middle-aged man, looking no different from any other ordinary New York citizen.

The whole process took less than ten seconds, like a drop of water merging into the ocean. He easily escaped the block with the New Yorkers who were running around in all directions. Even though Homelander circled overhead again and again, slowly expanding his flight range and trying to find him by digging three feet into the ground, what use was it if he was just running on the ground?

"There's still half an hour left in this compound decoction. Use it sparingly, and you can use it again."

Ma Zhaodi glanced at his warehouse. In order to control the potion's effect time most precisely, he did not buy the twelve-hour Snape Super Enhanced version for the two Polyjuice Potions this time, but instead chose the one-hour Express version. Fortunately, the asset points cost was indeed reduced to one thousand dollars per dose, and the two doses together cost only two thousand dollars.

But there's a second reason he used this version: he was running low on asset points.

113,000 points, a six-figure sum, would have been a fortune when he first entered Gotham, but as the strength of the villains he faced increased, it seemed a bit too little.

"I haven't found a proper job since entering this world; it's not good to only spend money and not earn it."

Ma Zhaodi sighed. The hush money that Walter gave him and the money that the butcher gave him hadn't been counted in his asset points. The situation here was different from that in Central City. He was now in the shadows, and it wasn't safe to keep pushing the food cart around and attracting attention. It would be easy for Walter to notice him.

"Is the CIA going to pay me or not? Don't force me to start my own business—otherwise, I might as well join Water, at least their employees should be paid quite a bit."

With these thoughts swirling in his mind, he gradually disappeared into the crowd.

Ten minutes later, an enraged Homelander returned to Water.

After changing his uniform and washing away the dust and bloodstains, he looked at the remaining scars and wounds on his body with disgust, feeling extremely unhappy.

"Damn it, damn it, fuck it! Fuck that dazzling light! Where the hell did that person go?! What the hell kind of power does that person have?!"

"And that Superman, why the hell didn't he just catch me and fly away? Why did he have to clear the ground for me to fall? He's fucking damn stupid."

Just then, Madeline called.

Jingle Bell--

"Hey?"

"What's the situation with today's mission? How did you end up here, and who did you run into?"

Homelander's face darkened, and he remained silent. Madeline paused, then simply said, "Come to my office and we'll get to the bottom of this."

Meanwhile, Clark and Maeve remained at the scene, watching as Walter's cleanup crew arrived before turning back to the company. After briefly reporting the details of the operation, the two left separately.

“This mission is really strange,” Maeve asked Clark. “But we don’t need to worry about the details. Let’s leave it to the big shots—how about we go for a drink at the bar?”

"No." Clark shook his head: "Occasional drinking can be considered entertainment, but long-term alcoholism is not advisable - I asked the company to build me a special gym, so I might be able to experience the feeling of exercising and sweating while I'm still in this condition."

Maeve didn't know what he meant by "current state," and simply replied casually, "You're really disciplined."

“A friend of mine is much more disciplined than me. He doesn’t smoke, drinks little, strictly controls his diet, trains his skills and exercises every day, and strictly controls his sleep time. He’s like a tightly wound machine every day. I rarely see him relax or rest. He even laughs much less than normal people.”

"Really? Are there really people that terrifying?"

"Yes, but he's no longer in this world. He was one of the people I admired most."

Maeve's face showed a regretful expression.

Clark didn't say anything more, simply said goodbye to Maeve, and headed to the gym—but he wasn't just there to work out; he also wanted to find a private space to communicate with Ma Zhaodi.

He needs to find out the cause and effect of the matter.

Maeve, on the other hand, abandoned her idea of ​​going to the bar. Since joining Walter, her daily training time has gradually decreased, and she spends more time on other "more important" business activities. Now she only spends an hour a day at her training ground to spar with a few big, strong men.

But since none of them are superheroes, for Maeve at this point, it's more like playing than training.

"Forget it, I'll go do some training," she thought to herself. "There have been a lot of sparring partners getting injured and quitting lately, so I need to hire some more."

Unbeknownst to anyone, at that moment, in Madeleine's office, Homelander was lying on the sofa with a docile and infatuated expression, his head resting on Madeleine's legs, his eyes fixed on her chest.

Madeline seemed quite used to this scene. She slowly unzipped the zipper, removed her inner clothes, and then, as if coaxing a child, stroked Homelander's hair.

Wow! Wow—

The baby, placed aside, rolled its eyes and suddenly burst into tears, as if its food had been taken away.

"What happened today?" Madeline asked Homelander as if she hadn't heard the baby crying. "Who could have hurt you and escaped right under your and Superman's noses?"

Homelander was eating, his muffled voice carrying a hint of grievance and accusation: "He's a shining bastard, definitely a superhuman. I can see his face, but I don't know how he grew up. Even Superman couldn't figure it out."

"I slid his face off! We found him, we killed him!"

(End of this chapter)