Had this been the old Landy, faced with Madelyn’s teasing like this, he would already have started his favorite ‘relaxation exercise’ with her.
However.
What Madelyn didn’t know was that the Homelander before her was no longer the Landy she once knew.
Alex watched as Madelyn undid another button on his shirt, the fingers resting on his chest sliding lower and lower.
A wave of nausea rose in his heart.
He wasn’t some pervert with a mother complex like Homelander, nor was he Soldier Boy, who’d been frozen for decades and still favored ‘peers.’
As a young man, watching Madelyn do all of this, he felt nothing but disgust upon disgust.
“Ahem.”
Alex coughed lightly, and in but an instant he’d moved from the chair to the other side of the table.
“That’s right, I’ve already decided on the candidate.”
Even Alex hadn’t expected that the first superpower he’d use after becoming Homelander would be to dodge an ordinary middle-aged woman.
Madelyn watched Alex move away, the smile on her face unchanged—if anything, it grew even more seductive.
But for a woman of her age, with dull skin and clearly defined wrinkles, this seductive smile was, in Alex’s eyes, rather an eyesore.
“It seems John wants to play something a little more interesting with me today.”
“Let me guess—are we playing the disobedient bad boy today?”
“Oh, but it’s already your feeding time.”
“Don’t you want to come fill your belly?”
Madelyn yanked her shirt open in one motion, undergarment and all, then swayed her hips, cupping her chest as she walked toward Alex.
Back when he used to watch the show, Alex already knew Homelander had problems in his head and played in twisted ways.
But watching Madelyn’s performance now, all Alex could say was that the show’s portrayal had been far too tame.
“Madelyn.”
Seeing that Madelyn wouldn’t let up, Alex stood firm, his brow furrowing.
“What’s wrong, John, aren’t you hungry…”
Madelyn was still working hard to show off her ample assets and the baby’s staple meal, just about to keep spouting seductive filth to entice Alex, when she heard Alex say:
“I’ve had enough.”
Alex fixed his gaze on Madelyn, his voice low.
Madelyn’s steps came to a halt.
She studied the expression on Alex’s face carefully, straining to find something familiar in it.
Yet on that familiar face, the expression was utterly foreign to her.
“You…”
“Get out.”
Alex rubbed the space between his brows, his tone laced with impatience.
What normal young man would want to watch an old woman flaunt her assets in front of him?
Now, if it were a young person like Starlight, he wouldn’t mind something happening.
But right now…
Alex had only one thought—he wanted to go wash out his eyes.
There was simply no helping it; before super vision, everything was so vivid, which only made it more of an eyesore.
“John, what’s the matter?
Is something bothering you…”
Madelyn wanted to say more, but Alex gave her no such chance.
“I said.”
“Get out!”
Crimson red light ignited in Alex’s eyes, and pinned beneath that pair of red-glowing eyes, Madelyn’s body instantly froze.
An unprecedented terror surged into her heart.
Even though her relationship with Homelander was anything but ordinary, in this very moment she didn’t dare gamble on whether the other party would actually kill her.
Because she understood better than anyone exactly what kind of existence Homelander was.
“I understand, John.”
“Perhaps you’re not in a good mood today.
Get some rest first, and let me know anytime if you need anything.”
Madelyn retreated two steps, swiftly tidying her clothes, struggling to keep calm and smiling as she spoke to Alex.
Seeing no other expression from him, she turned and headed outside.
Alex stared at Madelyn’s back; his super vision let him clearly see that as he drove her away, her heart rate suddenly spiked.
Clearly this old woman wasn’t as calm as she appeared on the surface.
Even in the air, a faint trace of sweat caught his senses.
That must have been the cold sweat from Madelyn’s back.
‘This bastard really came at an inconvenient time.’
Alex thought silently to himself.
Had it been anyone else, Alex wouldn’t have minded putting on an act, continuing to pretend to be Homelander.
At the very least, he’d get his hands on the original compound first.
But of all people, it had to be this one—Madelyn.
Have him lie in this old woman’s arms drinking milk like Landy?
Sorry, but not even if it killed him.
Only, this way, the changes in him would obviously draw Vought’s attention.
As the company’s single most important star product.
Even though there were no cameras in his lounge, his every move would be watched at all times by countless pairs of eyes.
At the very least, the abnormality he’d shown just now while dealing with Madelyn would absolutely be reported.
At that thought, Alex’s gaze turned toward the floor beneath his feet.
The ground beneath him gradually turned transparent, layer by layer, until an old Black man in a suit appeared within his line of sight.
It was none other than Stan Edgar, CEO of Vought International, dubbed ‘Uncle Fried Chicken’ by netizens.
He was also Madelyn’s superior, and currently Vought’s greatest power-holder.
In the original work, it was he who had created Homelander’s existence, and it was he who had always kept Homelander under control.
Madelyn was just like a whip used to break in a horse.
Merely a tool in Edgar’s hand to tighten his management over Homelander.
Judging from Madelyn’s behavior as she left just now, barring any surprises, she would absolutely report his changes at the first opportunity.
Alex observed Edgar through his X-ray vision, thinking with utter certainty in his heart.
Sure enough.
Under Alex’s watch, before long another figure appeared within Edgar’s office.
Who else could it be but Madelyn, who had just stepped out of his lounge?
“Mr.
Edgar.”
Madelyn hurried into Edgar’s office.
Though her steps were still steady enough, the expression on her face lacked its usual composure and calm—instead it had grown somewhat heavy, with a faint hint of panic.
“What’s wrong?
This isn’t like you.”
Edgar looked up from the documents on his desk, pushed the glasses up the bridge of his nose, and spoke in a mild tone.
“Mr.
Edgar.”
Madelyn came up to the desk, propping both hands on it, her expression grave.
“Homelander may have a problem.”
“Oh?”
Edgar paused, showing no panic or tension—he barely showed much expression at all, instead giving Madelyn a small smile.
“Sit down first.”
“Coffee, or something else?”