Harem Streamer System: Every Crime I Broadcast Wins Me a Superheroine-Chapter 182: Chained Freedom, Alien Mommy Pervert

The officiant adjusted his glasses as his voice tried to mask the heaviness of grief it held. He took a slow breath before addressing the mourners once more.

"… Before we hear from those closest to the fallen, the Hero Agency would like to first invite Metro City's Scott McQueen to say a few words to us—"

The moment his name was uttered, the place tensed.

"—a rising star in the modeling industry and also an alleged victim of the attack."

Silence.

Then, a chair scraped loudly against the ground.

"You're calling him an alleged victim?!"

A dark-skinned woman shot up from her seat as tears burned down her cheeks. Her voice cracked with a fury that had been simmering since the moment she stepped into this funeral hall.

"There is no damn way—no way in hell—the Hero Agency is actually trying to protect people like this!"

Her body moved before her mind could stop her.

In an instant, she was storming towards Scott.

Her grief twisted into raw, unrelenting rage.

Scott barely had time to react before she grabbed his collar and her fingers clenched so tightly that her nails nearly pierced through the fabric of his expensive suit.

"You…" she choked out. "You did this!"

Her voice rose, breaking apart the heavy silence.

"All those innocent people… y-, you killed all these innocent people! And I don't give one damn what the government says — I'll always blame you! You're a monster! You took my husband's life! You killed Dragonman!"

A ripple of shock passed through the crowd, but Scott just stood there.

His breathing was slow, his face bland, yet his eyes — those deep, tired eyes — held something indescribable. Regret? Pain? Shame? No one could tell.

"He was a good man…"

The woman's voice cracked.

"He served this country. He never EVER disobeyed the government. He protected people like they were his own. He was a hero! He IS a hero! And yet…"

Her grip on Scott tightened.

"… Yet this same useless government still wants to defend you over him?! Is there…"

— Sniffle!

"Is there no honor for the dead…?"

Scott's lips parted.

"I…"

But the words wouldn't come.

The woman yanked his collar harder, dragging his face closer to hers as she screamed with agony.

"Monster!"

Security was already moving.

Miss Mercury, Marcus, and Dog Girl were quick to intervene as they tried to pull the woman away.

But she wouldn't budge.

With her free hand, she pointed back—back to the blue stroller, back to the tiny child who sat inside, oblivious to the storm of grief around them.

"LOOK!"

She sobbed painfully.

"LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE! Dragonman is GONE! MY HUSBAND IS GONE! You made that child fatherless! You ripped his wings off! You tore his jaw off!"

Her body shook violently.

"And people want me to just let this go?! NO! NOOOO!!"

It took several agents to finally pry her away, but even as they dragged her back, she didn't stop crying, didn't stop screaming.

"ARE YOU HAVING FUN YET?! HUH?! YOU SICK MAN! HAVE YOU GOTTEN YOUR FILL OF KILLING?! THAT USELESS GRIN ON YOUR FACE—"

But Scott…

Scott wasn't grinning.

He was just standing there. Silent. Expressionless.

And for those who knew him, they could tell—he wasn't just sad.

He was exhausted.

Even as the woman was finally carried away and her sobs haunted the scene, Scott didn't move.

Miss Mercury rushed to his side, touching his arm gently.

"Scott… are you okay?"

There was no answer.

Instead, he simply adjusted his tie, walked towards the podium, and tapped the mic with disinterest.

The cameras were already rolling.

Reporters were poised, microphones ready to attack.

They were waiting—not for his words, but for a headline.

Scott sighed. He knew what was coming.

No one here would ever look at him the same way again.

Not as a model. Not as a victim. Not even as a person.

Just as a killer's face.

"Let's get this over with…"

He closed his eyes.

It had been quite some time since he last slept — days spent searching for Brigid, who had mysteriously disappeared before the whole chaos even started.

This was the closest thing to rest he had.

Then, he opened them.

His voice was calm.

"… It's been a difficult time for many…"

He paused briefly.

"And I understand why."

He paused again. Then, with a bitter chuckle, he added—

"But I'm not here to beg for sympathy, or anything… I'm not even here to ask for a chance."

A cold silence settled over the City Hall.

"… I'm here to tell you the truth."

A voice from the crowd cut in.

"Then tell us already!"

Scott didn't even flinch as K. Konrad Kain — sleazy, grinning, and ever-hungry for scandal — held up his recorder while his eyes burned with journalistic greed.

"What's the REAL truth, huh?! Is this all some ploy from the threat that is Nightwatch?! It has to be that black-wearing, vigilante-loving menace!"

Scott ignored him.

Instead, his eyes shifted to the crowd.

To Commissioner Bennett who stood with a stiff body and a hardened gaze.

Then, Scott spoke.

"…The man who attacked… the one who had my face…"

A pause.

"Was Nightwatch."

A collective gasp.

Pulsar's eyes widened.

Commissioner Bennett stormed out.

The police force stood frozen in disgust.

They were the ones who believed that Nightwatch was ten times more of a hero than whatever heroes the Hero Agency had on their roster.

So naturally… they found this insulting.

Miss Mercury lowered her head, pressing her palm against her face in shame.

And Konrad? He laughed.

"HAHAH! I knew it was that menace!"

He practically jumped with excitement, waving his recorder like he had just won a Pulitzer.

Scott didn't even react.

He continued, voice steady yet laced with quiet anger.

"… I don't have a scar on my neck."

He pulled at his collar, revealing his smooth skin.

"But the man who stole my face does."

He took a breath.

"It's not just any scar. It's the mark of entry. The mark of Nightwatch's newly developed parasitic power."

Murmurs spread like wildfire.

Scott's grip tightened on the podium.

"… He's not a hero. He wasn't a hero. And no matter what, he will never be a hero."

His fingers dug into the wood.

"He's a menace. A threat. A terrorist — just like the Hero Agency declared him to be."

The words tasted like poison.

But he had to say them.

Had to watch every ounce of work he'd done — every ounce of hope he had — crumble before his eyes.

And worst of all? He was the one who had to destroy it.

A shaky breath left his lips.

"… Starting next week, I'll be working with the Hero Agency to use my celebrity status as a righteous means to support our worthy heroes. To fight against the true villain—Nightwatch."

Silence.

Then, the entire place erupted.

Reporters swarmed.

Microphones shoved towards his face.

Security moved fast and efficiently formed a protective barrier around him.

But in the crowd, Scott's gaze found one person.

Investigative reporter, Judy Cho.

She wasn't holding a microphone. She wasn't taking notes.

She was just staring at him.

With pure, unforgivable hatred.

Scott lowered his head.

Could he blame her? Of course not.

She was just like Commissioner Bennett and the rest of the Metro City Police Department—they all respected Nightwatch and understood the good he had done, even if the media and the Hero Agency refused to acknowledge it.

In fact, she was one of his biggest supporters, loving and believing in him with all her heart. She was even willing to risk her own life just to make sure the world saw Nightwatch fight Red and save the entire country.

Having to say all of this while she was there made it even harder for Scott to deal with.

Even though the words had come from his mouth…

Even though the world now saw him as the heartless person who betrayed a hero…

Scott McQueen knew one thing.

This speech… was his own funeral, too.

━ ━ ━ ━

A few more days had passed.

Scott was currently slouched like a lazy potato on Jake's worn-out sofa, flipping mindlessly through TV channels.

The space felt smaller than it actually was.

It was a far cry from Emma's massive estate, where the living room alone could swallow up most of Jake's house. But Scott wasn't here for comfort—he was here to escape. To clear his head from all the drama that had exploded around him over the past few days.

Click. Channel 42.

Konrad Kain sat in his high-backed chair, smug as always, ranting about how he had always known that Nightwatch was a threat.

Click. Channel 67.

Another talk show, another panel of self-righteous guests nodding along as Konrad claimed Nightwatch had once threatened his wife.

Scott scoffed.

"Right. And next he'll say Nightwatch stole his dog and fed it to the moon."

Click. Channel 85.

Konrad again. This time calling Scott McQueen the real victim in all this. That actually made Scott want to punch something. The bastard wasn't even wrong, but he was milking the situation for all it was worth. And it was working.

Click. Click. Click.

Nothing but the same garbage.

Scott sank deeper into the sofa with a groan.

"God, I hate show hosts so much…"

Meanwhile—

Jake sat on the other end of the couch, laser-focused on some high-tech discs he was assembling. Each one was no bigger than a petri dish, with small injectors ejecting out of their centers.

Thanks to Scott, he was able to get his hands on some pieces of high-tech parts that he could use to make some advanced tech just for fun.

"Okay… right there…"

His fingers moved with experienced precision as he tweaked the mechanisms with a micro-screwdriver.

Scott's phone vibrated. Again.

Jake glanced at the screen and frowned.

105 missed calls. All from Emma.

"Dude."

Jake set down his tools.

"Why the hell aren't you picking up? She's been calling all day, everyday for three days now."

Scott didn't even look at him. "Not in the mood."

Jake's frown deepened.

"Brodie, this might be about Brigid. Wouldn't it be better to at least check?"

"There's no lead on Brigid…"

Scott muttered, still flipping through channels.

"Emma's searched the world over. I've used almost every satellite, traffic cam, even a little cross-dimensional tracking. She's just… gone."

His voice tightened slightly at the end, but he buried the emotion beneath another sigh.

He didn't want to think about it.

Jake studied his friend for a long moment, then glanced at the phone again. Calls from Bella Trevors, Morgan, Vixen—hell, even Gwen would have stormed in here if she weren't stuck in the hospital.

Jake exhaled sharply through his nose.

"If you're so fine, then why are you here?"

Scott finally turned to look at him.

"Because you're my bro, bro."

Jake blinked. Then snorted. "Well… this shit stinks."

Scott chuckled dryly, but the mood remained heavy.

He pressed the remote again, this time with more force.

Click. Click.

Then—

BZZZT.

The screen flickered. Static filled the air, followed by an abrupt system chime in Scott's head.

[DING! Intergalactic transmission detected…]

Scott raised a brow. "Huh?"

Before he could react, the television screen whited out — and then shifted into something… totally different.

Bright, dazzling lights.

A massive stage.

A roaring, unseen crowd.

And in the center of it all—

A beautiful alien goddess stood with a dazzling smile.

She had flawless blue skin, striking golden eyes, and long, messy white hair falling around her shoulders. Dressed in a crisp white button-down shirt and a black pencil skirt that perfectly hugged her curvy figure, she held a microphone in one hand and gestured grandly with the other.

Then, she spoke—

"It's time to get shamelessly perverted, my lovely, lovely people of the universe!"

Scott blinked. "… The fuck?"

The woman laughed, tossing her hair back.

"Ohohoho! That's right! Your favorite woman of culture is back after thousands of years, and we are live on the grandest stage of them all—The Harem Game Show!"

Scott's face twisted in sheer confusion.

"What is this garbage? Some kind of new reality show-style sci-fi series? And the name… it sounds like some dumb shit Brigid would come up with—pffft!"

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Jake, meanwhile, had completely abandoned his tools, leaning forward with amusement.

"Okay… now they got my attention. Who's this clown?"

The woman on the screen grinned.

"For anyone watching for the first time… well, technically, I've been sealed away for thousands of years, so this is actually a brand-new reality game show. But anyway, welcome to The Harem Game Show! It's about to become the universe's most exciting, most shameless, and most entertaining reality competition! And you know what?"

She pointed—directly at Scott.

Scott stiffened.

The woman's grin widened.

"You, Scott Evelyn McQueen, are our first contestant!"

Silence.

Jake slowly turned his head toward Scott. "… Dude."

Scott stared at the screen, utterly unamused. "Dude."

Then, the System chimed again.

[Ding! Intergalactic Streaming Mode Activated…]

Scott's blood ran cold.

"Wait. Wait. Wait."

He grabbed the remote and tried to change the channel.

Nothing.

Tried again.

Still nothing.

"Oh no, no, no, Scott! You're not leaving that easily!"

The woman giggled.

"My dear viewers, our dear, sweet, unsuspecting contestant has no idea what's about to happen to him! So, to all my alien brothers and sisters out there—turn on your socials and start tweeting!"

Jake let out a low whistle.

"Ooooh. Bro, you're so screwed."

Scott's eye twitched. "Jake."

"Yeah?"

"Shut the hell up."

Jake smirked and leaned back.

"Nah, man. This is gold. I'm invested."

Scott groaned, gripping his head.

"I swear to God, I am not playing this bullshit."

The woman laughed again.

"Oh, Scott, Scott, Scott… you still don't get it, do you?"

She leaned in toward the camera.

"This isn't something you can just turn off."

She turned around to show the camera the shape of her butt for some unknown reason.

"Or don't you wanna try your luck and see if all the sweet alien women across the universe will view you as the most eligible harem master! I promise you it'll have Thraxan thotties shaking that thick ass on your starship, my guy!"

Scott's stomach dropped.

Jake grinned.

"Yeah, buddy. You're playing. For both of us…"