Madelyn’s office.
Homelander licked the corner of his lips with a look of pure satisfaction.
After attending to Homelander, Madelyn picked up her child from the crib nearby and kissed him.
The radiant warmth of her motherly smile caused Homelander’s gaze to darken slightly as he stared at the infant, who couldn’t even speak yet.
Homelander’s possessiveness could no longer be described as merely pathological.
He wanted everything—wanted her to belong entirely to him.
Madelyn played with the baby for a moment, then turned around cradling him, only to find herself facing a gentle, polite, and gentlemanly smiling face.
“John, you look so handsome!” Madelyn praised, stepping closer to kiss Homelander’s cheek.
Homelander pouted slightly, letting out a smug huff toward the baby.
*I’m Mommy’s favorite child.*
The television in the office was playing political news, and it happened to concern Vought International.
A white-haired old man was speaking eloquently to the media, declaring that as long as he was around, so-called superheroes could forget about entering the Department of Defense or meddling in national security.
He went so far as to call superheroes uncontrollable nuclear bombs, stating that no one knew whether these bombs would destroy hostile nations or detonate on their own soil.
Vought had been pushing to integrate superheroes into the DoD.
To this end, they had spared no expense bribing several senators to propose bills and brainwashing the public to garner support for The Seven to join the military.
But every single time, they were blocked by the Chairman of the Senate Armed Services Committee, Steven, who killed the proposals with his veto.
Vought’s aggressive push to integrate superheroes into the DoD to co-architect a national defense line was, of course, not for the sake of defending the country or upholding the glory of America.
They had their eyes dead set on the military budget.
Selling superhero merchandise only brought in chump change, whereas the DoD’s annual budget was in the hundreds of billions of dollars.
Capital was purely profit-driven.
As long as there was profit to be made, capitalists would gladly sell the very rope used to hang themselves.
Homelander knew Madelyn had been pushing for this.
Seeing her efforts ruined once again by this old man named Steven, a fierce desire to protect her flared up in his chest.
“Madelyn, I’ll go kill him.”
Madelyn was slightly startled.
It seemed that ever since the Baltimore mayor incident, Homelander had grown increasingly tyrannical, resorting to murder at the drop of a hat.
This was a world of money, not a world of slaughter.
If everyone was dead, who would buy his merchandise?
In her heart, Madelyn looked down on these superheroes with extraordinary powers.
It was much like how straight-A students viewed student-athletes—they usually cursed them in their minds for having all brawn and no brains.
*Did you fry your brains taking Compound V?
All you know how to do is kill.*
If they killed Steven now, even a dog would know Vought was behind it.
Far from pushing superheroes into the DoD, it would only put the military on high alert and drive them to stop the proposal at all costs.
Madelyn adopted a gentle, maternal, and loving smile, placing her palm against Homelander’s cheek.
Homie instantly turned into a puppy, greedily absorbing the warmth of Madelyn’s palm.
He closed his eyes, his clumsy tongue even sticking out slightly in an attempt to please her by licking her palm.
This scene was so bizarrely twisted that even a seasoned degenerate would find it a bit too “Madelyn.”
Yet, Madelyn suppressed the disgust in her heart and said gently, “John.
We should have a little patience with this world, shouldn’t we?”
Homelander let out a nasal hum of agreement.
Madelyn continued, “You don’t need to worry about this.
I’ll get you all into the Department of Defense.
Steven is just one man; he can’t cause much of a storm.”
“Okay!” Homelander grunted.
Madelyn withdrew her hand.
“John, I have to get back to work.”
Suddenly interrupted, Homelander was slightly dissatisfied, but he didn’t say anything.
As he left, he glanced askance at the politicians on the TV and sneered.
What a coincidence.
He also had a way of getting into the Department of Defense.
…
Queen Maeve’s training room.
Maeve threw an elbow that sent The Deep flying ten meters.
She frowned.
“Deep, why are you so distracted today?
Do you think my punches aren’t hard enough?”
Since Queen Maeve had seen through him, The Deep didn’t bother hiding it.
He stood up, ignored the blood covering his body, and grabbed a glass from the training room, dropping an ice sphere inside.
He grabbed a half-empty bottle of whiskey from the fridge and poured a full glass.
Once the ice sphere began to melt and the amber liquid reached the perfect temperature, he downed a third of it in one gulp.
The two sat down, and The Deep handed over the remaining half-glass of whiskey.
Queen Maeve was a heavy drinker herself.
She took a massive swig, the amber liquid sliding down her snow-white neck into her cleavage.
“What a waste!” The Deep intercepted the glass, swallowing the remaining liquor mixed with Queen Maeve’s sweat.
Maeve grunted, her fists clenching, but she didn’t blow up.
After these past few days of training, her subconscious had already accepted a certain reality: The Deep was supposed to be a degenerate beast.
Until…
Queen Maeve’s icy warning came: “Deep, if you want to die, you’re welcome to try.”
*Please, punch me harder.*
A sip, a flash.
A heavy punch blasted The Deep straight into the wall.
After a long while, The Deep crawled back to Queen Maeve’s side.
Half his ribs were broken, but the man had a bright smile on his face.
He rested his head on Queen Maeve’s lap.
Compared to The Deep’s usual scumbag behavior, this gesture almost made Queen Maeve think he had turned over a new leaf.
The Deep pointed to his mouth, opened it, and went, “Ah.”
Queen Maeve brought the glass to his lips.
He swallowed it with a gulp.
The numbing effect of the alcohol made his body feel a bit better.
Only then did The Deep reveal the reason for his distraction.
“Maeve, what kind of drug is A-Train taking?
Is it Compound V?”
Queen Maeve clearly hadn’t expected A-Train to be the reason for The Deep’s distraction.
She let out an “uh” and nodded.
“But isn’t Compound V kept in the labs?
Where did he get it?”
“In this country, as long as you have money, there’s nothing you can’t get,” Queen Maeve sneered.
“You mean it leaked from the labs?
Specifically to supply superheroes?”
“Otherwise?
You think those drug dealers have the chemistry skills to synthesize Compound V?
But the stuff on the black market is cheap, diluted junk.
Even so, every injection causes irreversible damage to our bodies.
If you want to get stronger, I suggest you just come to me and take a beating.
Using drugs will only overdraw your body ahead of time.”
The Deep frowned with concern.
“I’m just worried about A-Train’s body.
If he keeps abusing Compound V like Homelander said, only death awaits him.
I have to go tell him to stop injecting it.”
“Huh?” Queen Maeve looked astonished.
“Since when do you care about a Black guy’s life or death?”
The Deep’s face darkened, and he said in dissatisfaction, “A-Train is my brother first, and then he’s a goddamn Black guy.
My discrimination against A-Train is my own business, but who the hell is Shockwave?
Is he worthy of being my brother?”
Ha!
This speech was classic Deep.
An arrogant, conceited, vain, proud, yet slightly adorable beast.
Queen Maeve looked down, making eye contact with The Deep as he rested on her thighs.
Reddish-brown hair, wine-red eyes.
Yet she possessed a face that leaned toward Eastern aesthetics—elegant and noble.
Right now, Queen Maeve was gentle.
“Deep, want a drink?”
“Ah…” The Deep opened his mouth wide.
Queen Maeve drained the cup in one gulp, then cupped both sides of The Deep’s cheeks.
The amber liquid trickled down in a thin, continuous stream into his mouth.
“Maeve!
We have a mission.
Someone is holding hostages at gunpoint in New York’s Platinum Tower.
You and Homelander need to go rescue them.
The camera crew is already on their way…”
Ashley pushed open the door and froze on the spot.