The Boys: Viltrumite Bloodline Panel

Hillel’s voice rang through the hall.

The prize pool kept growing.

"So don’t talk to me about the spirit of the Constitution. It’s laughable! Pathetic! Ridiculous! Absurd!"

"And don’t talk to me about procedural justice!"

"When your procedures protect cannibals and rapists, that procedure needs to be smashed and flushed down the damn sewer!"

"If I were a fascist, I wouldn’t be starting a second unfinished project!"

"Of course, I’m not."

"You can twist my words all you want, but every American watching this live stream knows exactly what I mean. Your kindness and justice are with me!"

"I am... The Guardian!"

"What I guard isn’t legal statutes, not constitutional amendments, and not the word games played by shyster lawyers and politicians!"

"What I guard is the light in every home!"

"It’s the millions of American people who might be in danger, the children who shouldn’t be crying in basements!"

"It’s every kind, innocent, ordinary person this system has failed!"

"In my name!"

"So I’ll say it again: even if only one person left in the whole world stands for justice, The Guardian will stand against the entire world for that person!"

"This isn’t just empty talk. Not bullshit!"

Hillel stepped off the podium, walked straight up to the camera, and swept his cape high.

The gold-stamped "V" caught the light.

He dropped to one knee, like a knight being dubbed.

"I stand here asking all of you people watching!"

"I ask you to grant me power!!"

"Not rights from God, but rights from the people!"

"I don’t believe in God, I don’t forgive the devil; I don’t rely on gods, I don’t excuse evil!"

"I will uphold the six tenets of honor, loyalty, compassion, courage, integrity, and protection of the weak. I ask you to grant me that power!"

"That is... Protector of the Realm!"

"I am willing to become the representative of the 300 million American people!"

"In this life, my only job is to punish the wicked and wipe out evil."

"You can call me a fascist, a dictator, whatever the hell you want!"

"But I still have to ask you to grant me a title!"

"That is... Regent!"

Silence. A full minute of silence. Deafening silence.

Then came applause from Steven.

The old male reporter had tears in his eyes.

The other reporters joined in, clapping along.

Behind Hillel, Edgar led the applause, his face showing real shock.

He had warned Hillel not to go against the American Constitution, but Hillel had gone way further—he’d publicly stomped all over the Constitution of Liberty.

His words were inflammatory as hell, almost like that failed art student from Austria.

But this speech, backed by the Rhode Island discovery, was enough to win him the green light from all of America.

Applause! Nonstop applause. The clapping from a few hundred people swelled like a roaring sea!

Reporters, cameramen, even the security guards were clapping.

Some were crying.

The big screen switched to the live feed. The giant screen in Times Square was playing the press conference in sync.

Thousands of people packed the square, all staring up at the screen.

One of the most powerful supes in the world. Facing the camera, down on one knee, like a knight being dubbed.

He wasn’t high and mighty like some suit, nor arrogant like other supes, and definitely not holier-than-thou like the Vought Seven.

He had normal human desires; he got pissed at injustice; he never hid what he liked or disliked; no scandals; didn’t drink or do drugs; among supes, he lived like a goddamn saint.

When The Guardian said "Representative of the people," a deafening roar exploded in Times Square!

Some raised their phones to record. Some looked like they’d seen a real god, tears streaming down their faces. Others pumped their fists and shouted, feeling the blessing hit them.

A middle-aged woman dropped to her knees, tears pouring down. If Hillel had been there, he’d have recognized her — the mother he’d once yanked out of a burning building. Her kid had made it because of him.

A retired veteran pulled off his hat, held it to his chest, and saluted the screen.

Similar scenes played out all over America. In a bar on Chicago’s South Side, the crowd packed tight in front of the TV.

When The Guardian said "Rapists and the raped shouldn’t have the same rights," the whole bar erupted.

"Hang those bastards!"

"The Guardian’s right! The law protects these animals!"

"We oughta send ’em to the guillotine!"

"We need a real judge!"

"In my name!!!"

Texas, a veterans’ community. Dozens of vets sat around a big TV in the community center.

At first, some pointed at Hillel on screen, saying this kid was gonna spout more empty bullshit.

But when he said "I do not believe in God, I do not forgive the devil," the doubt vanished.

A Vietnam vet in a wheelchair, coughing till his face was red, shakily raised his fist.

"This is the hero America needs." "Those politicians in Congress who only run their mouths are all trash!" "What we need is this young guy calling for rights from the people and actually respecting the public!"

The vets around him stood up one by one, chests still burning with old fire. Someone raised a fist. "In my name!" "In my name!" "In my name!"

Godolkin University. Students crammed into every corner, staring up at the big screens. Jordan, Cate... the two of them had turned into true believers.

When the interview ended, they got swarmed by other students. Everyone knew these two lucky bastards were the up-and-comers The Guardian had personally picked for his team. They might even make it into The Seven one day.

But after that interview, who the fuck cared about The Seven? Following The Guardian was the coolest shit!

"Cate, have you slept with The Guardian?"

"And you, Jordan!" Well, this crowd of students weren’t saints either.

[National Public Opinion Storm — Saint James Event]

[Public Emotional Fluctuation — Positive: Fanaticism, Adoration, Being Moved, Trust, Hope]

[Ability Point Earnings: +167,800]

The press conference wrapped up. But everywhere the interview reached, it was still being replayed. TV station hotlines were jammed.

A-Train was mobbed by reporters. "Mr. A-Train! Is it true the leads you gave helped The Guardian uncover the crimes on Little St. James Island?"

A-Train stood there, unsure what to say at first. He glanced at Hillel. Hillel nodded.

"Yes." A-Train faced the cameras. "I spent a long time tracking this lead. I... I’ve done a lot of bad shit in the past and hurt a lot of people, but this time I wanted to do the right thing."

"The Guardian gave me this chance; he believed I could still be a good person. I don’t want to betray that trust!" The reporters’ cameras went wild.

[A-Train — Extreme Emotions: Sense of Redemption, Being Acknowledged, Rebirth, Gratitude, Sense of Belonging, Loyalty]

[Ability Point Earnings: +26,780]

Maeve was surrounded by another pack of reporters. "Ms. Maeve, what did you see on the island?"

Maeve’s eyes were a bit red. This wasn’t acting; she was really crying. "I saw... the ugliest shit humans are capable of."

"I also saw why we need The Guardian... Not because he’s super powerful and can fly, but because he’s got balls!"

"He does the things the rest of us should do but are too scared to.... Among us, nobody dares to point at Congress and ask what the fuck they’re actually doing! And nobody’s petitioning the people! After this, I... I think I’ve fallen in love with him!"

The cameras clicked like crazy.

(The reactions of Homelander and The Boys will be in the next Chapter)

Early access to 12 advance Chapters.

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