Chapter 2: Monsters and Midwestern Mayhem

Derek dropped the act and grinned. "You can strut around the statehouse all you want—I don’t care.

But to raise your voice in MY Monster Suppression Corps camp—who gave you the nerve?"

He let the last words drop like a judge’s gavel, the tent suddenly silent as everyone waited for what came next.

Smack!

Derek slapped him, no superpowers needed. But even so, a true immortal’s slap wasn’t something a Level One could handle. The slap cracked through the tent, loud enough to make even the generator stutter. Greg’s head snapped sideways, and for a second, nobody breathed. He was flung backward, crashing hard to the ground. His insides felt like they’d been scrambled. The official order and gold badge tumbled to Derek’s feet. Derek stepped on the order.

The slap echoed through the tent, sharp as a starter’s pistol at a county fair. Greg hit the dirt with a thud, and the junior officers at the doorway all froze, wide-eyed.

"You… You’re insane! This is treason!

Do you realize I deliver the order on behalf of the governor and his wife? What you’ve done is a crime that could wipe out your entire family!"

Greg was shocked and furious, left with only threats. Every bureaucrat sent to deliver an order usually got plenty of perks. This time, the governor issued the order, and Greg had begged his foster father for this cushy job. In the end, he got nothing but a beating. He’d already decided: once he got back to the capital, he’d file a complaint.

He tried to scramble to his feet, blood trickling from his split lip, his mind already spinning revenge scenarios. In the world of political favors and backroom deals, humiliation like this wouldn’t go unnoticed.

Derek ignored him, instead eyeing the gold badge on the ground with disdain. "The Governor’s Command—he really thinks he’s some founding father."

He stomped on the badge, the metallic clink lost in the tension. Derek thought about the portraits in government buildings—Washington, Lincoln, FDR. The real deal, not some small-time official with delusions of grandeur.

The founding fathers actually shaped the nation—their every move could change history. The current governor called himself the people’s leader, but he was no founding father. Without the strength to back it up, he still dared to put on airs. What’s more ridiculous, the female lead actually bought into all of this.

He shook his head. It was like watching a school principal pretend he was running the Pentagon. The world ran on power, not empty titles.

Just then, Aubrey’s voice sounded in his mind: "Sir, Greg will definitely file a complaint when he gets back to the capital."

Her worry pressed against the edge of his thoughts, fragile and persistent.

"He dares?"

Derek glanced back at Greg, and sure enough, saw venom in his eyes.

Greg was already plotting, his face a twisted mask of hate. In a small political world, holding a grudge was practically a sport.

"Almost forgot about you."

With that, a surge of power swept out. Terror flashed in Greg’s eyes. Before he could react, he was blasted into nothing by the overwhelming force. In the superhero world, even if the other guy was a nobody, you had to finish the job—no loose ends.

A ripple of unnatural energy pulsed through the tent, rattling the metal poles. Greg vanished as if he’d never been there, the only trace a faint scorch mark on the canvas floor. No one dared to breathe. One kid in a too-big uniform backed away so fast he nearly tripped over a duffel bag, eyes huge.

Outside, a few junior staffers stood, brought along by Greg. He’d wanted all the perks for himself, so he left them outside. Before Derek could say a word, the junior staffers were already frantically waving their hands.

"We didn’t see anything!"

One of them even crossed himself and mumbled something about going to church more often. In this kind of place, plausible deniability was worth its weight in gold.

That response satisfied Derek. Only people like this deserved to stick around.

He let a slow smile curl at the edges of his lips. Survivors recognized their own.

Derek announced loudly, "Greg was possessed by a monster. I’ve already taken care of him."

He projected his voice like a high school football coach at halftime, making sure everyone within earshot got the message: Greg’s fate was a warning, not an invitation.

The junior staffers exchanged glances. People said the statehouse was cutthroat, but this place felt even darker. Was Greg possessed by a monster? Did they even need to ask?

A cold draft swept through the tent, the kind that made you want to call your mom or double-check the locks at night.

"Good job!"

"Thank you, Ma’am, for saving our lives. Otherwise, we would’ve been toast too."

One of the junior staffers piped up. They weren’t idiots. If the superhero could kill Greg, would she care about a few of them?

They bowed their heads in gratitude, some of them already vowing never to stand out, never to volunteer again. Better to be invisible than next in line.

Aubrey’s spirit was stunned: "Sir, I mean—this isn’t exactly how we do things here, is it?"

She sounded torn between awe and panic, her Midwestern politeness wrestling with the brutal logic of the new world order.

Derek asked, "If someone falsely accused you of treason and wanted to ruin your whole family, what would you do?"

He let the words hang, knowing full well how loaded they were in a place where reputation could be shredded with a single phone call.

Aubrey blurted out, "I’d confront him face to face and slap him hard!"

She said it with the fervor of someone raised on TV courtroom dramas and soap opera showdowns. The image of her storming into a meeting and landing a slap was almost comical.

Derek resisted the urge to facepalm, barely managing to squeeze out a sentence through gritted teeth: "Try thinking a little more deviously."

He massaged his temple, channeling every exasperated teacher who ever had to explain why sometimes you needed to play chess, not checkers.

Aubrey tilted her head, thought for a moment, then grinned: "Then I’d fall in love with him, mess with his feelings, and make him miserable. Heh heh heh."

Aubrey thought she was being very wicked. Derek’s face was full of exasperation. As expected—superhero stories are dead, romantic drama rules the day.

He tried not to laugh, realizing that the world might be saved, but people were still hopeless romantics at heart.

"Let’s go. Let’s see what the governor’s family really wants from me."

Derek could only show her with actions.

He straightened his jacket, squared his shoulders, and strode out into the gray morning, the taste of iron and the thrill of rebellion sharp on his tongue. Outside, the sky was the color of old bruises, rain still threatening, the air thick with the promise of trouble. He stepped into the morning, boots crunching gravel, ready to find out if the governor’s family was as dangerous as everyone whispered—or if he’d just become the real monster at the gate.