Bulletproof Boys? Are You Sure They Aren't Girls?

"It sure is lively here." When The Boys arrived outside the hotel, Hughie's eyes widened as he took in the massive posters of Qi Li and Derek's showdown covering nearly every inch of the building's facade. He then turned his gaze toward the red carpet, blurting out in pleasant surprise, "Whoa! That's Florida Georgia Line! I actually really like their country music. Are the two of them performing today?" "Oh my god! It's the cast of *Why Women Kill*! My dad absolutely loves them!" "Is that... BTS is here too?" Butcher turned around, glanced over, and asked, "Bulletproof Boys? You sure they aren't girls?" Hughie blinked in shock. "Butcher, that's just harsh." Frenchie scoffed from the side. "Ignore this outdated old geezer. He doesn't know the first thing about fashion." Butcher fired right back. "If your idea of fashion is messy makeup, wearing a burlap sack, and carrying around a plastic bag that costs over a grand, then no, I don't get 'fashion.'" Frenchie was capable of anything—murder, arson, cooking drugs, trafficking weapons—but as a Frenchman, defending fashion was in his blood. Just as he was about to argue back, Hughie suddenly spoke up. Staring intently at the end of the red carpet, his fists clenched tight. "A-Train is here!" It started with just a gust of wind that caught everyone off guard. Then, clad in his classic blue battle suit, A-Train materialized abruptly on the red carpet, waving vigorously to the surrounding crowd. Only then did the onlookers snap out of it. Cheers, shrieks, and screams erupted in a deafening wave that pierced the clouds. "A-Train! A-Train! A-Train!" Watching the fanatical frenzy and noticing the bitter indignation burning in Hughie's eyes, Butcher remarked—whether meant as comfort or fuel to the fire: "Feels unfair and impossible to wrap your head around how A-Train can turn an innocent girl into paste and still have all these people worshiping him, doesn't it? That's superheroes for you, Hughie." "I bet if the girl he ran through had been someone else, right now you'd be standing here with a collector's edition A-Train figurine in one hand and an A-Train energy drink in the other, cheering your lungs out for him just like the rest of these wankers." Hughie fell completely silent. Seeing that, Butcher didn't press further. He turned his gaze back to the red carpet. After A-Train strutted down with energetic dance moves, their target for the day, Popclaw, stepped onto the carpet right after him. It was painfully obvious, though, that the cheers for her were vastly fewer than for A-Train. Popclaw looked at A-Train's receding figure ahead, then took in the lukewarm reception she was receiving. Gritting her teeth, she quickened her pace to catch up. "She has a smoking hot body. No surprise A-Train likes her," Frenchie remarked with expert critique. Having regained his composure, Hughie asked in confusion, "If they really are dating, why aren't they walking together?" "Because Popclaw is a washed-up, third-rate supe, while A-Train is at the top of his game. Them being seen together wouldn't make a dime—it'd only trash A-Train's popularity. Vought PR and marketing would never allow it," Butcher explained offhandedly, gesturing for the others to move inside. Hughie followed closely, somewhat surprised. "Butcher, you're this familiar with marketing too?" In his eyes, Butcher was a pure hard-ass and a prick; there was no reason he should know celebrity fame and PR marketing so inside and out. Butcher paused briefly, threw Hughie a sideways glance without answering, and continued walking. Frenchie knew the full story, but now wasn't the right time to bring it up. He patted Hughie on the shoulder, motioning for him to keep up. Though confused, Hughie had no choice but to follow briskly. Soon, however, he realized something was off. "Wait, this isn't the way to the main entrance, is it? Why are we heading further out of the way?" Without looking back, Butcher said, "Scalpers have jacked the tickets for this bloody match up over a grand apiece. If the three of us put on suits and ties to stroll in like Marlon Brando, it'd run us at least three grand." "So, Hughie, what do you say? Do we jimmy a back door for free, or are you feeling generous enough to foot the bill?" Butcher glanced back over his shoulder, flashing a grin that Hughie found wildly exaggerated and deeply unsettling. Hughie instantly straightened up. "Forget I said anything." He had only been an ordinary appliance salesman, and now he was out of a job. Where on earth was he supposed to dig up three thousand dollars? Fortunately, he wasn't saddled with student debt. His grades had been strictly average, and he had never planned on attending college in the first place. Otherwise, he wouldn't have had the luxury of running around with Butcher, who couldn't even disburse mission funds. *** Meanwhile... With time running short, important tasks ahead, and people coming and going constantly, Qi Li and Kate hadn't taken things too far. At most, Kate had volunteered to offer a first demonstration with those exceptionally beautiful yet still noticeably clumsy hands of hers, helping him relieve some pressure. Only after this showdown concluded would their efforts truly bear fruit. At that moment, Qi Li was fully geared up and ready to go. Kate stood beside him, radiant and fresh as a lotus rising from water. They weren't the only ones in the room; their manager Monica, Jeff's Godkin University filming crew, and event staff were also present. "Five minutes left!" Jeff checked the time and signaled for all personnel to get in position. Kate stepped forward to smooth out Qi Li's battle suit. When three minutes remained until the start of the match, Jeff nodded. "Action!" The camera switched on immediately, focusing on Qi Li's face—one recently ranked among the World's 100 Most Handsome. Just then, the lounge doors swung open. The pre-match musical warm-up by several big-name bands had just wrapped up, and the roaring fervor of the arena surged in like a blast of heat. Qi Li nodded to Kate, then strode toward the stage that belonged to him. Not far away, Derek and his team set out as well. Qi Li glanced over. Derek wasn't waddling or arching his back anymore; he seemed to have conditioned himself back into solid shape. Derek looked back, his eyes burning with venomous hostility. Although no one had officially claimed responsibility for that incident and the school had simply swept it under the rug, how could he not know that the culprit behind the memory that brought him unbearable humiliation was Qi Li? If the cameras weren't pointing straight at him right now, he would have loved nothing more than to pounce and brawl on the spot. Even so, he made a cold throat-slit gesture. Qi Li chuckled softly and strode forward toward the arena. One minute left! All the lights across the sweltering arena plunged into darkness. As the final ten-second countdown began, the massive screens wrapping all four sides overhead flared to life. The promotional video for *Campus Showdown* officially began to play.