“No!”
Ashley yanked out a clump of her hair, shrieking in agony.
*Don’t kill people!
Post-production is going to be a nightmare, you asshole!*
This was the first time The Deep had killed a man.
It wasn’t as unbearable as he had imagined.
Once he accepted the premise of *The Boys* universe, simply killing someone without brutal torture already qualified him as a normal superhero.
In the original show, The Deep rarely killed people either.
Across four seasons, his body count was lower than what the protagonist’s father racked up in half an episode.
Calling The Deep a useless trash-tier Supe was no exaggeration at all.
What little competence he had was all spent on octopuses.
The Black man in The Deep’s hand quickly went limp, slumping like a dead octopus.
The Deep casually tossed the corpse aside.
When his gaze swept over the remaining three dealers, he saw three trembling strays, their pant legs soaked through, a yellow puddle pooling at their feet.
Only when faced with the raw terror of true mortality did they realize how cruel and nightmarish death really was.
The Deep walked slowly toward them.
Confronting him, the three dealers were terrified out of their wits, unable to summon even a single thought of running.
*Thud!
Thud!
Thud!*
Three heavy thuds.
All three fell to their knees before The Deep.
The universal gesture for begging for mercy was remarkably consistent: kneeling and kowtowing for a chance at life.
One of the two Hispanic dealers pressed his hands together, desperately repeating, “Money!
Money!
I have money!”
The other gestured wildly in wide circles, signaling round curves.
“My mom!
My sister!
They’re amazing in bed!
I can bring them to you!”
The Deep smiled and shook his head.
With a hand on each, he crushed their throats.
Until only the last fat Black dealer remained.
Just as the man assumed he was dead meat, The Deep spared him.
Grabbing him by the collar, The Deep blurred across the room almost instantaneously, reappearing next to Starlight.
He yanked the fat dealer up.
Flanking the dealer, the two of them formally declared him arrested, framed against a backdrop of scattered white powder and flying stacks of cash.
*Flash!
Flash!
Flash!*
Countless cameras flashed.
“Starlight!
Pin him to the ground, press your knee into the back of his neck!” Ashley directed Starlight into position.
Then she glared at the fat dealer.
“Hey, you know your line, right?”
The fat dealer immediately shrieked, “Please!
I can’t breathe!
Officer!”
*SMACK!* Ashley slapped him across the face and swore, “I said say ‘I surrender’!
Are you trying to get Starlight featured on Black Lives Matter websites?”
Like a puppet on strings, Starlight complied with Ashley’s instructions to complete the photo shoot for the bust.
It wasn’t until police cruisers arrived at the port and they handed the dealer over to the police that the show officially drew to a close.
Atop a shipping container at the harbor, The Deep sat smoking, drinking, and taking in the sea breeze.
Starlight climbed up beside him, took the bottle from his hand, and swallowed a gulp.
The night wind ruffled her soft blonde hair.
Misgivings flickered in her eyes as she hesitated before speaking.
“Deep…
those drug dealers didn’t deserve to die.”
The Deep gave a polite, practiced fake smile.
*Didn’t deserve to die?
Where I come from, there’s zero tolerance for drug dealers.*
Rather than answering directly, he countered with a question.
“Starlight, if killing one person saves two people, is killing wrong?”
Starlight fell silent, lost in thought.
For a naive girl like her, the question was clearly way above her level of thinking.
The Deep didn’t push her for an answer.
Trying to force everyone into the same worldview was inherently wrong anyway.
His large hand slid around her supple waist.
“Mm!”
Still caught in her thoughts, she let out an involuntary soft gasp.
Only then did a weak protest follow: “Don’t…”
The Deep kissed her.
Her lips and breath were filled with a sweet fragrance.
“Deep…
can we go back to the office?” Starlight asked pitifully, though she didn’t pull away from his kiss at all.
“Ah…” Starlight breathed out softly, her body turning completely limpid.
Holding his waist, she offered one final plea, “At least let me change my clothes…
this tactical suit is too tight.”
*No way.
Just as sashimi needs wasabi, in a scene like this, the suit is absolute perfection.*
“Oh, my righteous little cop…
come arrest this heinous criminal.”
“Deep, you really are a demon!” Starlight bit her lip and hissed through gritted teeth.
“Oh…
you asshole!
You’re not gentle at all today.”
“Miss Officer, I’m a cold-blooded killer.”
“No!
You’re a pervert.
Mr.
Pervert, let your wickedness end with me!” Starlight’s golden eyes gleamed as she opened her arms, asking for his embrace.
In moments like these, she loved clinging to him, feeling his weight pressing down on her body.
***
The Seven Conference Room.
Only six members were present today.
Translucent had been missing for three whole days.
Someone else had taken his place for both last night’s drug bust and today’s visit to terminally ill kids.
Homelander glanced at the vacant seat.
If not for the fact that his super-hearing couldn’t detect Translucent’s heartbeat anywhere, he would’ve assumed the guy had shit for brains and was playing a prank on him.
After all, setting aside his invisibility power, Translucent’s skin was a carbon-metamaterial with diamond-level defense.
An RPG blast was practically just a warm bath for him.
Homelander didn’t believe anyone on this planet could hurt Translucent besides himself.
*Damn Jew.
If I catch you slinking around in a crack den, I swear I’ll nail you to a cross like Jesus and make you watch yourself bleed out.*
Homelander’s face darkened, but then his eyes landed on The Deep.
The Deep’s recent growth was probably the only thing that had brought him any satisfaction over the past few days.
Homelander put his professional smile back on and pressed his hands down.
Silence fell over the room instantly.
Homelander kicked off his captain’s speech: “Last night, The Deep and Starlight took down four drug dealers, making an outstanding contribution to the safety of New York City.
America is stronger because we, its superheroes, stand guard.”
*Clap clap clap…* Sparse, unenthusiastic applause followed.
*Hmm?* Homelander’s gaze shot cold glares, and the applause immediately turned thunderous.
*Bunch of bastards.
Can’t you cunts learn how to clap properly from The Deep?*
Homelander pressed his hands down again to cut off the applause and continued, “Because of The Deep’s outstanding contribution, I’ve decided to elevate his standing within The Seven.
From this moment on, the ranking order of The Seven is me, Queen Maeve, Black Noir, The Deep, A-Train, Starlight, and that fucking bastard Translucent.”
Originally, The Deep’s standing in The Seven was second from the bottom, only higher than the newly joined Starlight.
Now he had suddenly jumped two spots, ranking right behind the three founding veterans—Homelander, Queen Maeve, and Black Noir.
Everyone in the room was shocked.
A-Train scrambled to his feet, protesting indignantly, “Homelander, why does this useless piece of trash get ranked ahead of me?”
*Homie really must be too soft-hearted if A-Train has the balls to talk to him like that.*
At times, The Deep felt that Homelander genuinely viewed the other six as his teammates.
After all, starved of affection since childhood, Homie craved every scrap of emotional bond, including camaraderie.
Otherwise, a screw-up like The Deep, who had blundered countless missions, wouldn’t have survived until the final season.
Any other big villain would have sliced a useless, liability-ridden minion like him into ribbons long ago.
Faced with A-Train’s defiance, red laser light welled in Homelander’s eyes, and he spoke through gritted teeth: “Because it’s my order.
A-Train, if you say one more word, you’re getting on your knees to lick Starlight’s toes.”
“Huh?
Really?” A flash of joy crossed A-Train’s face.
“Thanks—uh, no!
I mean, I got it, Boss.”
Starlight looked at him with utter disgust.
*Yep, everyone in The Seven is a freak.*
*Especially you,* Starlight thought, glaring venomously at The Deep.
*Don’t you ever expect me to put on the suit again.*
Homelander motioned for The Deep and Starlight to take their new assigned seats.
Now The Deep sat right below Queen Maeve, while Starlight sat right below The Deep.
The hierarchy within The Seven had shifted.
Once everyone was settled, Homelander turned his icy gaze back onto A-Train.
“A-Train.
Shockwave said on TV that he runs faster than you, that he’s the man who truly belongs in The Seven, and he’s officially challenged you to a race.
How do you plan to respond?”
A-Train scoffed disdainfully.
“That nobody?
I can run faster than him on my hands.
Captain, there’s no need to even pay attention to a challenge like that.”
Homelander cracked a smile.
“No.
Vought has already accepted Shockwave’s challenge on your behalf.”
“What?!”
A-Train stood frozen in shock, stammering, “H-Homelander…
why would the company entertain a clout-chasing loser like him?
That guy isn’t worthy of standing on the same track as me.”
“What do you think?” Homelander’s smile broadened, though the chill radiating from him grew bone-deep.
His expression abruptly snapped into pure fury.
“You junk-addicted piece of shit.
Take a look at your heart—it’s bloated like a three-hundred-pound fat fuck’s ass, and the blood in your veins is as thick as motor oil!
I don’t think your speed can beat Shockwave right now.
Maybe he deserves to be in The Seven more than you.”
A-Train’s dark face turned visibly pale, cold sweat beading on his forehead as he stammered, “Captain…
listen to me, I can explain—”
Homelander didn’t care to hear a single word of his bullshit.
He waved his hand, dismissed the meeting, and strode off toward Madelyn’s office.
He was hungry.