I write obituaries for the gods

All the black skeletons around him raised their guns and aimed at the boy. The eldest brother also narrowed his eyes, his eyes flashing with golden light.

"You want to leave prison, yet you point a gun at the prison's master?" Velemir said softly.

"I want to negotiate!" the boy growled. "Take me out of this prison and I won't pull the trigger!"

Velemer stared at the boy for a while, then nodded slightly.

“Well done,” he said.

He ignored the boy, put his hands behind his back, and walked toward the prison gate.

"Keep up." The older brother gave the boy a push on the shoulder.

The boy's hands were trembling violently. He kept his gun raised, aiming at Velemil's back, and followed him outside.

Why wasn't he afraid? The boy kept thinking about it.

The gun fired a blue flame, or rather, a whale-like bullet. This thing can kill demigods, and Zvyagintsev was killed with a single shot.

Even if Velemir is a demigod... he shouldn't have so calmly shown me his back...

Who is he?

"..."

Velemer walked out of the gate and arrived at the entrance of the Gulag prison.

As soon as he stepped out the door, the jailer who often bullied him turned around and frowned.

"Hey! Raskolnikov, who let you out? Missing my shoes?"

Velemer didn't say anything, but simply took out a lighter and swept it around his pipe a few more times.

Just as the jailer was about to step forward, a gunshot rang out—

"Oh!"

A bullet pierced the jailer's thigh, and he fell to the ground, howling in pain.

The boy held the gun, his hands trembling slightly.

Seeing the guard's contorted face, he prepared to pull the trigger again—

"Let's save some bullets."

Velemer exhaled a puff of smoke and said.

"You hit his major artery; he'll die in less than half a minute."

The boy nodded and put his gun away.

He secretly glanced at Velemil's steely face.

The second bullet in the revolver was a conventional bullet.

It was as if Velemer already knew who the second bullet was meant for, so it wasn't wasted.

"Aren't you afraid I'll shoot you in the back?" the boy couldn't help but ask.

“You won’t shoot,” Velemir said.

How can you be so sure...?

"I saw."

Velemer turned his head, and after dressing neatly, his expression became more kind.

He smiled slightly at the boy, then turned to look at the vast snowfields of Siberia.

At the same time, a burst of gunfire rang out from the gates of the Gulag:

"Da da da da da da—"

The wailing echoed through the sky, drifting with the white smoke rising from the father's pipe into the Siberian sky, mingling with the leaden-gray cirrus clouds.

Amidst the swirling clouds, fighter jets roared past, followed by a colossal transport plane as majestic as a mountain.

The boy had seen that transport plane in a magazine before: it was "Iron One," the Foundation's airborne fortress, which was said to have the ability to break through the atmosphere and reach near-Earth orbit.

His pupils trembled slightly, for at that moment, he understood the identity of the person before him.

That magnificent behemoth... that steel behemoth escorted by countless fighter squadrons...

It was the private jet of the foundation's leader, the "benevolent father"!

Veremir Perenov Raskolnikov, whose true identity is... "The Loving Father"?

That leader who never showed his face to the world, that loving father who only existed in legends, actually hid in the Gulag prison all this time, letting himself be bullied like a wild dog.

why?

The boy suddenly felt that he had stumbled upon a corner of a secret history.

"Om——"

Steel One descended upon the snowfield, pressing down on the gray clouds, and landed on the distant wilderness.

The massive rear hatch opened slowly like the doors of a palace, and the orange-yellow lights shone brightly against the white snow.

At this moment, the eldest brother walked out of the prison and stood beside his loving father:

“Father, the deposits of fear have been extracted and are ready, enough, according to calculations, to launch a space-based orbital strike against New Washington.”

“Take it with you,” the loving father nodded. “Syrena Boswell has kept some things from me, but whatever she wants to do, history is resilient enough to withstand it all. Excessive intervention will only backfire.”

"Then let her do it. I'll cover for her." The elder brother nodded.

"What about the Secret Service? Have they found any trace of Buendía?" the loving father asked.

"We still can't find them, but according to our deployment in Yudu, they are already too busy to take care of themselves and cannot threaten you."

"it is good."

Velemir nodded, then turned to look at the boy beside him:

“From now on, you are the second son, so follow your elder brother’s lead and learn well. The F Council will be losing two members tonight, and we are short-staffed.”

He reached out his hand and asked the boy for the revolver.

The boy stared at the kind old man, hesitated for a long time, and finally did not hand over the revolver, but instead put the gun into his waistband.

“Well done,” Velemir nodded.

A gray gale swept across the Siberian plains, blowing across the outline of the Gulag prison, embedding white frost between the black stones.

On the plains, a dark army marched toward the raptors resting on the snowfield, with a kind old man at the head of the procession.

Before boarding the plane, he looked back at the Gulag one last time and whispered:

"I think I'll miss it here."

......

Chapter One: The Fall of the White House

The chaos in Yudu that night.

After Xilena fell into a deep sleep, Steel One broke through the atmosphere and flew towards the Black Star VI platform.

"Om..."

The hatch to the core module slowly opened, and one by one, black skeletons entered the hall and lined up on both sides.

At the end of the line, the eldest brother bowed slightly, his expression devout.

"Merciful Father, take over your kingdom."

Surrounded by the crowd, the loving father entered the hall and came to the end of the line.

He was still wearing that Soviet woolen hat, a modernly tailored black Soviet military uniform, and a fur coat, looking like a black bear.

The loving father walked through the queue of the core section and looked up at Xileina, who was hanging upside down in the container.

“Sylla Boswell,” he murmured softly, “a girl who surprised me. She avoided my sight most of the time, but I never expected her to go this far.”

“She cannot stop our great cause,” the elder brother said. “She is no different from an inanimate object.”

"But she still expended a lot of her accumulated fear, which will cause our plans to be delayed a little...."

The loving father walked to the giant window and looked down at the blue Earth.

"Let's absorb the accumulated fears of the Gulag and delay our most powerful enemy for now," he said.

"Yes." A black skull nodded.

"Buzzing..."

As emotions accumulated and recharged, the Black Star platform began operating once again.

After taking control of Russia, the foundation reactivated the Gulag and imprisoned a large number of prisoners, torturing them in various ways.

Both the body and the spirit will crumble under the trampling of the Gulag.

A day ago, the loving father left the Gulag and ceased his hiding.

On the same day, all prisoners in the Gulag prisons were publicly executed, and the whole of Russia was plunged into fear.

This fear is the perfect fuel for charging W weapons.

"Black Star VI is fully charged," the eldest brother said. "We're still 87.5% away from reaching Sodom... It seems we won't be able to touch God anytime soon..."

"It's alright, let's deal with those lizardmen first."

The loving father gazed calmly toward the Americas, his deep blue eyes reflecting the outline of the continent.

"It's about time to clean house."

Countless fine, dark blue lines flashed in his pupils, outlining themselves, rapidly intertwining and calculating.

Then he saw a deserted island.

In the heart of the isolated island, a white palace stands like the temple of the ancient Greek gods, and around it, a silver city spreads across the island.

New Washington, the hideout of the super-American in subspace.

The White House on the ground is just a facade, and the president living inside is also just a facade.

The true center of power for the super-American has always been deep within the subspace.

"Zizzizi..."

Behind the desk in the Temple of Freedom, Lucas Rockefeller, dressed in a suit, frowned deeply.

Just now, he received a message from Professor S: the USS John F. Kennedy has been destroyed, and both carrier strike groups heading to the Rain City have sunk to the bottom of the sea.

This means that the Black Star has risen into the sky.

“We have to take action,” Lucas said in a low voice. “The Foundation isn’t going to just give up like this; we’ve already flipped the table…”

Behind his desk, a stunningly beautiful woman smiled and said:

"Don't you know? Sylena Boswell has cleared out the Foundation's accumulated fears, and our timeline... should be freed up now..."

"No, my instincts tell me that things can't be that simple."

Lucas's lizard-like vertical pupils trembled slightly, and he stuck out his long, thin tongue, his expression thoughtful.

"It's alright, they'll never find this place..."

The beautiful woman walked up to him and gently stroked his shoulder.

"Even Laplace's demon couldn't see what was happening in the warp... At most, they could destroy the fake White House and fake president on the surface, and we could still lurk in the shadows..."

“Lurking…but I’ve had enough of lurking,” Lucas said in a low voice. “The family put me in this position, but they won’t let me do anything real! We should have the ‘Eagle of Freedom’ lead the legion and attack Rain City immediately!”

"Don't worry, the attack on Rain City has already begun," the beauty said softly. "Our B-2 bombers are soaring over Rain City... Aren't you paying attention to the news...?"

"Why don't I know?" Lucas frowned.

"There are many things you don't know, sweetheart. Professor S works day and night so that you can get some rest."

The beauty stepped forward, stood on tiptoe, and the two became entwined in the center of the hall.

After a long while, Lucas lay panting in his chair, staring at his desk.

"What if they use Black Star to destroy the White House on the ground?

"What else can we do? Let that world's richest man with a reproductive fetish launch more rockets into space, or else kick him out in his new energy electric car..."