NOVEL WEB Chapter 218: Meteor City Pop Culture!
━ INN Studio, Meteor City ━
Under the shining lights of the lavish indoor stadium.
Judy Cho sat cross-legged in a plush, navy blue swivel chair that looked far more expensive than her rent. Dressed in her usual crisp maroon blazer and matching heels, hair in a tight bob, and makeup that screamed professional, she smiled like a seasoned host, the perfect picture of a respected journalist.
At least on camera.
But anyone who knew Judy off-air—say, the cat she shared her apartment with—would've scoffed.
Offscreen, she was the queen of microwaved noodles and hoarded newspapers, her days spent buried under blankets with dark circles and half-eaten tuna sandwiches. And now, here she was, live on international broadcast, pretending she didn't despise this entire setup.
She smiled at the audience in the stands—then flashed an even wider smile at the camera.
So wide it almost cracked her cheeks.
"And now…"
She began with a syrupy tone so fake it made her want to gag with disgust.
"Can we all give a warm welcome to the wife of Dr. Dean Hudson—mayoral candidate of Meteor City 2046!"
Cheers erupted from the audience like a reflex.
Judy's smile twitched.
"But more than just a wife…"
She continued, clapping politely.
"She is her own woman—the stunning CEO of Crowe Enterprises, a global conglomerate with assets from here to the Moon and back, and a major backer of many of our beloved heroes!"
She clapped again.
This time with the energy of someone faking a seizure.
"And a big supporter of this year's SMPE… please welcome—Adira Crowe!"
The crowd exploded.
Especially the women.
Half the husbands looked like they were two seconds from falling asleep or scrolling sports scores.
And then she entered.
Adira Crowe.
Tall. Ethereal. Raven hair cascading down like flowing water that shimmered under the lights. European blue eyes. Skin so pale and dewy it looked like moonlight was leaking out of her pores. She wore a black mantle over her sleek, skimpy, midnight-black attire that hugged every perfect curve as she walked like she wasn't just born rich, she invented wealth.
At thirty-eight, she looked twenty-five—and Judy hated her guts for it.
Judy's eyes narrowed just slightly.
Her thoughts were soaked in complete jealousy.
『Fuck this arrogant, annoyingly beautiful and gorgeous woman. Thirty-eight? With a body like that? If I knew she looked this good outside TV, I'd have worn my purple suit. Ugh—whatever, screw this. I should be back in Metro City investigating Nightwatch, not playing cheerleader for some glass-skinned barbie doll with a billion-dollar ego.』
By the time Adira reached the chair opposite her, Judy had wiped the hate off her face and stretched her lips back into another "I'm totally not fuming" smile.
"So, Madam Crowe…"
Judy began with her voice a little stiff.
"You must be just as busy as Dr. Hudson, huh? Helping him run for Mayor and sponsoring the SMPE… that's quite the workload. Thanks for making time."
Another applause followed. For no good reason.
Judy's eye twitched.
She cleared her throat dramatically and stared at the teleprompter.
"Now, Madam Crowe…"
She made sure to speak sweetly.
"A few days back, there was an experimental poll put out on social media, asking who the public felt would make the ideal First Lady of Meteor City. You received… over 90% of the vote. That's huge. VERY huge, in fact. Do you think this popularity—whether for your… looks or your success—will affect the election next year?"
The women in the audience clapped again—some looking genuinely inspired. The men? Still bored.
Adira gave a small, elegant smile.
Then leaned forward just a little.
Her black-painted lips parted like a knife cutting silk.
"Darling~"
She said with calm, icy elegance.
The sort of voice that would make any man kneel.
"Perhaps you'd do much better focusing on questions about today's SMPE, not politics… especially considering you're a journalist known for obsessing over Nightwatch. A terrorist. I don't know how I should feel about answering your very cruel and insensitive questions, hmm~?"
The studio went silent.
Dead. Cold. Paralyzed silence.
Judy's face froze.
The director's jaw dropped as he dropped the script in his lap, eyes darting to the teleprompter.
『Judy wasn't supposed to ask that!』
He didn't yell, didn't scream—just pressed a hand to his chest and muttered—
"This is why the Chief sent her…"
He gave Judy the death glare.
In turn, Judy just forced her lips into a crazed grin like a cartoon hostage and mumbled into her mic—
"I… I don't support Nightwatch, okay? Don't get me in trouble with the government, Madam Crowe."
Adira just smiled. A cheeky, sideways one.
･･･
MEANWHILE – OUTSIDE METEOR CITY
A pitch-black Escalade crept past the city limits into the wild chaos of Meteor City's outskirts.
Inside, silence reigned—except for Scott.
Scott… the unfortunate driver.
Everyone else?
Dead asleep.
Marcus lay sprawled across the back row like a corpse.
His tablet still glowed on his chest while his camera lazily hung from his hand.
Sarah was adorably curled near the window, drooling as she mumbled complex physics formulas in her sleep like some deranged lab rat.
And Brigid? Clung to Scott's arm like it was a plush toy.
She snored like a kitten.
"Mmm… Nngh… (.-ω-)zzz"
Her thin, strawberry lips parted slightly as she let out tiny, dreamy murmurs. Was she dreaming of fluffy clouds… or perhaps delicious sweets?
Scott slowed the car, glanced at Brigid's peaceful face—then noticed her drooling all over his long sleeve.
His smile dropped.
"Not… so cute anymore…"
He muttered through clenched teeth.
DOOOOM!
CRASH!
A naked, middle-aged man dropped from the sky onto the hood of the Escalade like God threw him down in protest.
"AAAAHHHHHH!"
Came the collective scream inside the SUV.
Brigid? Screaming into Scott's chest.
Marcus? Trying to record through his panic.
Sarah? Hyperventilating with a—
"WH-, What the hell was THAT?!"
Scott stayed calm.
"Don't worry. It's just…"
Before he could finish, two costumed heroes jumped from nearby rooftops.
Rhinoman—massive, horned, armored like a tank.
Mr. Sphere—a tall, lanky man with robotic prosthetic arms and several high-tech orbs floating around him.
They tied the naked man up in seconds.
The crowd in the distance cheered and whooped.
The two heroes spotted Scott, their superior.
『IT'S THE BOSS!』
Rhinoman grinned inwardly.
Instead of shouting his name, they just gave him a respectful nod and smile.
Marcus kept recording.
"Ooooo~! I've watched so many Nightwatch streams, but I didn't think Meteor City would be this crazy in real life! It's actually refreshing to see…"
Scott chuckled faintly.
"It is. That guy's called… the Jerker."
Marcus blinked. "You mean the Joker?"
Scott winced. "No. The Jerker."
Just then, the naked man broke free of the rope, yelling gibberish as he ran around, rubbing his penis shaft wildly and spraying his "white fireworks" in every direction.
"PUBLIC MASTURBATION SHOULD BE A THING!"
He continued to stroke his small weiner with force as his old, reddish, perverted face squeezed more and more the harder he rubbed himself.
"RAAAH, RIGHT TO MASTURBATE!!"
His whites sprayed all over the ground with zero shame.
Rhinoman tightened his fist.
"How is he producing that much—?!"
"I-, I honestly don't know…" Mr. Sphere sighed.
Soon, these whites splashed on the SUV.
"EWWWWWW!"
Everyone in the car gagged.
Brigid squeezed her eyes shut and screamed—
"HEY! I WAS GONNA DO THAT!"
Everyone turned and just stared at her.
Sarah curled up tighter.
"I'm really not happy to be back here…"
Scott sighed like he had a family of five.
"Guys, relax. We're not staying in the Hollowpoint Slums. The SMPE's at the Blue Box Convention Centre in Meteor Hills. Basically, the fancy side of the city."
Marcus wrote something in his notepad.
"Social segregation… noted."
Scott shook his head and drove on.
The streets grew darker. Dirtier.
They passed rows of hobos warming their hands over trash can fires, alleys filled with graffiti and druggies.
Then Scott hit the brakes.
Hard.
Everyone jerked forward.
"Uhh… Lord Scott?"
Brigid asked, still clinging to him.
"Everything okay?"
Scott's hands tightened on the wheel.
He didn't look back. His voice dropped low.
"… Yeah. Just thought I saw someone I used to know."
A pause.
It felt like for a moment he saw someone—dirty, but oddly beautiful… but that made no sense.
『I don't wanna be that guy but I'd never be like one of those Glitch streamers that bang crazy homeless chicks and call it content as an excuse for their fetish… I don't find those kinds of things attractive.』
He squeezed his face.
Then… why did he think he saw a beautiful woman coated in rags for a second? No answer.
He took a deep breath—and hit the gas again.
The SUV rolled on through the city, away from the broken alleys, toward the light.
But behind them, in the shadows, a woman in thick glasses watched the car disappear.
"Someone… help me…"
She squeezed out of her dry throat.
━ ━ ━ ━
The time the SUV reached the Blue Box Convention Centre perched halfway up Meteor Hills.
By then, it was already chaos outside.
A ridiculous sea of journalists swarmed the area like hungry gulls at a beach picnic — cameras mounted on tripods, microphones held out like bayonets, and bright, desperate smiles stretched across the faces of men and women who were determined to squeeze gold out of every second of this event.
The SMPE didn't just bring in heroes — it dragged in A-listers like a cosmic magnet. The kind of star power that could melt server stacks and crash search engines. This was their shot to grab headline gold and outrun their rival agencies by a country mile.
"They'll be where?"
A male reporter asked, scanning his notepad.
"Front steps!"
A woman declared confidently, as if she had the script.
"Trust me. They always want the steps."
Just then, two luxury sedans curved into the circular driveway and came to a slow, commanding stop — the kind that made everyone hold their breath.
Cameras snapped to attention.
Microphones lifted.
Eyebrows raised.
Out stepped the first: Isaac Volkner in his signature Xenon High-Tech Armor — sleek gunmetal with electric blue edges glowing across his limbs like circuitry come alive.
The second: a man whose very presence seemed to melt the lenses on half the cameras in the area.
Wavy red hair that fell effortlessly across his forehead, sharp jawline, tailored black vest with a crimson shirt underneath — his loose tie barely hanging on like it, too, had given up resisting his charisma.
Jamie Storm, better known as Firestar.
SS-Rank Hero. International icon.
One identity, zero masks, infinite sponsorship deals.
He sighed and adjusted his tie like he was already done with the crowd before even stepping into it.
"Holy smokes!"
One reporter screamed.
"That's S-rank hero Xenon and—AND—NO WAY! It's the SS-rank Firestar! HE'S HERE!"
A younger reporter near the back trembled so badly his mic shook like a leaf.
"I—I didn't think I'd ever get lucky enough to see a legend Firestar in person… wait, isn't he back from that off-world mission with Shadow Monger and The Fortitude? Are they here too—?! HOLY SHIT!"
That comment made half the crowd break into laughter.
"No way, man!"
A woman laughed, nearly doubling over.
"Those two? That's Z-tier territory! You think Megaman is about to walk through those doors too?"
Laughter exploded.
Even one cameraman slapped his thigh.
But inside the SUV, Scott narrowed his eyes and ignored the crowd's noise.
His eyes were locked on Isaac.
Something didn't sit right.
『Everything lately… Trickshot, the mystery scientist… they all circle back to Isaac and Volkner Industries somehow. Is he just in the middle of it… or pulling strings?』
He clenched the wheel slightly.
Xenon's voice buzzed softly through his helmet's comms.
"This place is crawling with press…"
He muttered, calmly scanning the dozens of red lights from camera recorders.
"Any idea what they're doing here this early?"
Jamie didn't even glance at him.
Hands in his pockets. Silent.
A reporter broke the awkward air by pushing forward, mic pointed eagerly.
"Excuse me! Are you here to recruit new heroes from the SMPE? Like maybe Irina Golovin? The other members of the Skyfort's four prodigies? Or possibly… to form an alliance with The Peak, now that he's S-tier and climbing?!"
Xenon blinked.
"The Peak…?"
He frowned.
"That name sounds familiar… why don't I see him on more missions then?"
He shook his head.
Jamie took over smoothly, fingers adjusting the three golden rings on his right hand.
"We're not here for anyone named The Peak…"
Jamie said flatly.
His smooth voice made the reporters back down and the hearts of the females to melt.
"We're here on business with the Chairman who should be visiting soon—as you all know. Might check out some young prospects while we're at it. That's all."
With that, they both walked right past the reporters like kings among peasants.
Inside the SUV, Brigid tightened her arms around Scott's chest, scooting in closer than usual. It wasn't like her usual flirty cuddles. No teasing smile, no low whispers. This time… she was holding on like something was off.
Scott glanced at her, his brow lifting.
"Uh… Brigid? You good?"
She just nodded. Hard. Twice. Then leaned in deeper.
Sitting beside the door, Sarah rolled her eyes.
"Tch."
She turned away, staring out the tinted window.
From the backseat, Marcus raised his phone and grinned.
"Yo! The Peak's here! He's already streaming—look!"
Scott groaned under his breath. "Of course he is…"
At the entrance of the Blue Box Convention Centre, The Peak — muscles flexed under a neon tank-top, sunglasses tilted down his nose — had a floating drone camera hovering in front of him. It streamed in high-res clarity as he gave his fans what they wanted: Peak content.
He was already mid-story.
"So there I was, ten years old, fresh off a hero license trial, and I used to eat at this place called Shi Fu's. Real authentic Chinese food, y'know? And one day the old man comes to me — says I'm special. That I got the 'dragon bones.' Starts teachin' me kungfu every night before I eat my dumplings."
He began flailing his arms in what could only be described as… spiritual interpretive kungfu.
The reporters just stood there, stunned.
A few clapped. Others whispered.
Chat exploded.
[Bro said Shi Fu 💀]
[FR, someone tell him he's NOT the Dragon Warrior 😭]
[Bro thinks he's Daniel Larusso 💀]
[THE PEAK WOULD NEVER LIE 🐐🔥]
[This gotta be the craziest lore drop ever!]
[So that's why his super punches are so raw, Master Shi Fu taught him 🤲]
└ [Hall of fame meat riding right here]
[UNC. STOP. THIS DID NOT HAPPEN 😭😭]
[($5000 donation) my undisputed goat fr 💪 teach me kungfu master 🙏]
["dragon bones" is CRAZY LMFAOOOO]
[THE KING OF THE JUNGLE 🦁 LET 'EM COOK]
[And old man promised to teach me kungfu once, but I just got molested by him… my ass crack still hurts. No one will see this because it'll get buried by comments.]
└ [Bro… 💀]
└ [Dawg might need more than therapy 😞]
･･･
One female reporter, absolutely bought in, asked—
"So, The Peak… what's it like to be you?"
The Peak paused dramatically.
Adjusted his sunglasses. Then—
"People see me and think… damn. Who's that? Is he dangerous? He must be a killer."
He flexed one arm.
"Thousands of years ago, men who looked like me conquered civilizations. Took gold, land, and hearts. Why? Because of this…"
He flexed both biceps.
"Golden hair. Flawless glacier-skin. Lion of the Jungle. Alpha energy. That's why many women run away when they see me, they're gazelles and I'm a lion."
The crowd actually clapped.
Behind him, Pulsar just stood, arms folded, blinking slowly like her soul was trying to exit her body.
『This is so dumb…』
She groaned, but for some reason it reminded her of Jake and how he had a The Peak phase.
[Of course women run when they see a guy with over 200 rape charges 🤷♂️]
└ [Same guy that begged Dog Girl to lick his ass btw]
└ [Dang, I forgot that 💀]
[Ngl, I'd let her do it, I can just imagine Dog Girl using that small tongue to go crazy on my butthole, yes please. I think even a loser like SleazyPen would agree to this.]
└ [My guy called himself a loser LMAOOO]
└ [Bro is tryna agree with himself 💀]
└ [SleazyPen we know it's you bro 😭]
[Is Pulsar okay 💀 she look TIRED]
└ [she bout to log out of real life]
[Somebody caption her face pls]
└ [She look like me when I apologize to my Mom but she's still talking and trying to rage bait me 😤]
[Media believe everything but if she breathes wrong it's scandal headlines smh]
[She's literally so real for that expression 😂]
･･･
At this point, Scott's SUV had parked.
He slipped a trucker cap over his hair, hoping the shadow might save him.
But just as they crossed toward the glass doors—
"HEY! ISN'T THAT—THAT'S SCOTT—?!"
One reporter squinted. "Scott… who?"
Another gasped.
"Wait, wait, wait—he's that guy people said might actually be HOTTER than William Roosevelt!"
"OH!! He's The Peak's best friend!" one shouted.
Another yelled over the crowd—
"And the same guy who saved Bella Trevors and kissed her in front of everyone—!! NO WAY!"
The media SWARM shifted, almost instantly ignoring The Peak.
[WAIT THAT'S HIM??? 😳]
[Would let him break my heart ngl]
[Would let him drill me like a can of wet beans]
└ [That doesn't even make sense 😕]
└ [It's not supposed to, duh 🙄]
[THAT'S THE GUY?? BROS A LEGEND]
[This is gonna be so fucking awkward when The Peak sees this LMAO]
[I'm ovulating. Right. Now.]
[Scott please marry me 🥺🙏]
[if Bella's there rn it's OVER for the other women]
[CHAT. BEHAVE.]
[Someone check on Pulsar, she just froze!]
･･･
Pulsar turned sharply.
Her eyes landed on Scott — cap or not, she recognized that face instantly.
And then… a strange memory surfaced in her head.
One where she… handed him her panties.
『Huh?』
She blinked once.
Twice.
Her eyes widened.
Her soul left the building.
[Did Pulsar just have a Vietnam flashback? 💀]
[I SHIP IT ALREADY]
[Bro causing mental damage just by EXISTING! 🔥]
[This con is already wild and it just started 🔥🔥🔥]