With a trace of drool still hanging from the corner of her mouth, Queen Maeve stared blankly at Ashley, who had just pushed the door open.
“Don’t let it go to waste.”
The Deep did a textbook sit-up and licked it clean.
“That was my fucking spit!”
In a fit of embarrassed rage, Maeve threw a punch straight at The Deep’s shameless face, smashing him right into the floorboards.
She stood up coldly and looked at Ashley, who had witnessed the whole thing.
The latter’s heart hammered in panic, and she quickly explained, “I didn’t see anything.”
Maeve sneered coldly.
“You’d better not have.”
Ashley wanted to burst into tears.
*If you two wasn’t doing…
that, would I have seen anything?*
In a flash, Maeve closed the distance, stopping right in front of Ashley.
The gust of wind she kicked up stirred a lock of Ashley’s blonde hair.
A pair of gorgeous, wine-red eyes flared with murderous intent as she warned, “Remember to knock next time.”
Ashley squeezed her thighs together, terrified she might wet herself, and whimpered, “Yes.”
“Where is Homelander?”
“Waiting for you in his office.”
Another gust stirred her blonde hair, leaving only Ashley and The Deep in the training room.
***
Maeve arrived at Homelander’s office.
Looking at Maeve in her sexy combat armor, Homelander offered a rare, genuine smile.
“Maeve.
Your speed has slowed down lately.”
She hadn’t actually slowed down.
She had simply stripped off her combat suit during her sparring session with The Deep, and putting it back on had taken some time.
Before Maeve could answer, Homelander’s brow suddenly furrowed, and his expression darkened.
This single shift made Maeve’s heart skip a beat.
She knew Homelander’s volatile nature and sadistic streak better than anyone.
Homelander twitched his nose, sniffing the air.
“Why do you…
smell so much like The Deep?” he asked, puzzled.
As Homelander’s former lover, even though they had broken up, Maeve still lived under his oppressive shadow every second of every day.
She was well aware of his pathologically obsessive possessiveness.
Because of this, she had even forced herself to break up with her actual lover and cut off all contact.
And her lover was a woman.
Maeve flashed a casual smile and replied calmly, “The Deep said a few days ago that he wanted to improve his combat skills, so he’s been acting as my punching bag lately.
He can take a surprising amount of punishment.”
Homelander pressed, “The Deep?
Asking you to train him?
Did he get seawater in his brain?”
Maeve said indifferently, “He said he wanted to help you.”
The sneer on Homelander’s face froze, replaced by a couple of forced chuckles.
“Him?
Help me?
Since when do I need his help?”
After a brief silence, Homelander added, “Maeve, go a bit easier on The Deep during training from now on.
Regardless of everything, I am still his captain.”
Maeve gave a soft, noncommittal grunt.
Then, Homelander swept Maeve up in his arms, crashed through the window, and soared toward Platinum Tower to rescue the hostages.
***
Back in Maeve’s training room.
Ashley’s legs were still weak.
Seeing The Deep lying motionless, she thought he might be dead and cautiously stepped closer to inspect.
Suddenly, a hand shot out and grabbed her ankle.
Terrified, Ashley shrieked, “Help!”
“Ashley, if you make another one of those hideous noises, I’ll snap your neck,” The Deep’s voice echoed from the hole.
With his hands pressing against the floor, The Deep pulled his head out of the crater.
It wasn’t a bloody mess, but Maeve had broken his nose.
The Deep gingerly touched his nose, snapping it back into place to help it heal properly.
Glancing at Ashley’s trembling figure, The Deep was in no mood to comfort her.
He cut straight to the point: “Ashley, get me A-Train’s tracking data from the past few days.”
Every member of The Seven had a GPS tracking chip implanted in their body.
Vought International called it a safety measure, but everyone knew it was pure surveillance.
Ashley blinked, then hurriedly stammered, “The Deep…
I don’t have the authority to pull A-Train’s tracking data…
da…”
Her voice suddenly choked up as if she had phlegm caught in her throat.
Her body was slowly hoisted into the air—The Deep had seized her by the throat with one hand, lifting her off the ground.
As his grip tightened, black spots danced across Ashley’s vision.
Her lungs screamed for fresh oxygen, but not a single breath could slip past his fingers.
Only when Ashley felt like she was standing at the gates of heaven did The Deep finally release his grip.
She collapsed to her knees, hacking violently while desperately sucking in ragged gasps of air.
Her chest felt as if it were being sliced by razor blades.
“How about now?” The Deep’s voice whispered in her ear like a demon’s murmur.
Ignoring the agonizing tear in her chest, Ashley knelt at The Deep’s feet, weeping and pleading, “I’ll take you…
I’ll take you to look at A-Train’s tracking log right now!”
The Deep looked down, a contemptuous smirk playing on his lips.
A docile horse gets ridden; a docile man gets bullied.
Some things never changed, whether in ancient times or modern, East or West.
Sycophants like her just needed to be taught a lesson.
Every time The Deep thought he was finally adjusting to this world, someone would come along and shatter his worldview all over again.
Ashley led him to her office and booted up her computer.
The screen displayed the real-time coordinates of all seven members.
Black Noir and he were currently at Vought Tower.
Homelander and Queen Maeve were at Platinum Tower saving hostages.
Starlight was at a church in New York, interacting warmly with her followers.
She was currently in her peak publicity phase, requiring numerous public appearances to boost her exposure and fan base.
Her recent drug bust with The Deep at the Port of New York had already netted her nearly a million new followers.
But the biggest surprise was her act of unscheduled vigilantism when she was out alone, which had been caught on a security camera.
Although the CCTV footage was blurry and static, that raw authenticity was exactly what made Starlight go viral online, pushing her follower count past ten million.
It was a classic case of an accidental masterpiece.
There was also a coordinate that had remained static inside an abandoned factory.
It belonged to Translucent, who had been missing for several days.
His tracking chip had last pinged at this location before seemingly vanishing.
Homelander had even gone there personally to investigate, but he, too, had returned empty-handed.
No one in all of Vought International knew where Translucent had gone.
The Deep didn’t linger on the others and clicked straight on A-Train’s coordinate information.
A-Train was currently at a sports field at New York University.
The coordinate indicator was pulsing dynamically; though he seemed to be standing still on the map, opening his movement logs revealed that he had just run ten laps around the track in the blink of an eye.
He was clearly training on the field, preparing for his upcoming race against Shockwave.
The Deep pulled up A-Train’s tracking history for the past seven days and noticed that aside from Vought International, he frequently visited an apartment located at 298 Marilyn Avenue.
That had to be the residence of A-Train’s girlfriend, Popclaw.
Having secured the information he wanted, The Deep didn’t linger.
He got into his car and drove straight to 298 Marilyn Avenue.
After slipping the landlord a hundred-dollar bill, he got Popclaw’s room number—Room 302 on the third floor.
The Deep pressed the doorbell.
A fair-skinned young woman with short hair opened the door.
She wore heavy smoky makeup, a tight, bulging black sports bra, and blue denim shorts that exposed a pair of pale, smooth thighs.
A-Train was eating well.
The Deep offered a polite smile and introduced himself.
“Hello.
I’m A-Train’s brother and teammate from The Seven—The Deep.”
Before he could even finish his sentence, Popclaw grabbed him by the collar and dragged him inside.
With a loud slam, she kicked the door shut.