The Deep walked out of the Supe conference room.
He was currently on the 99th floor of Vought Headquarters.
His relationship with Vought was much like that between an influencer and a talent agency.
The Seven had massive follower bases online, and Vought was responsible for monetizing those fans.
To turn superheroics into a booming business required admiring Vought’s methods, as well as thanking the fertile soil of American capitalism.
The Deep liked this place—a capitalist world where cash-power outranked superpower.
In the restroom next to the conference room…
Starlight was frantically rinsing her mouth.
If there had been a shower in the restroom, she would have wanted to scrub herself inside and out to wash away the filth.
The restroom door pushed open, and Queen Maeve, who had just finished using the toilet, walked over to Starlight’s side and washed her hands.
Her burgundy hair hung down lazily, her matching armor outlining her physique, bare shoulders partially exposed, the skirt armor accentuating a pair of long, straight legs.
The green young girl stood before the noble Amazonian Queen, wearing a pitiful, helpless expression.
Queen Maeve glanced at the disheveled Starlight with a flicker of pity.
Flicking her fingers, she shook off the water droplets.
Maeve didn’t comfort Starlight, only saying, “Sweetheart, that’s the price of growing up.”
She sympathized with Starlight’s ordeal, but she was powerless to change it.
As Queen Maeve turned to leave, she turned to the empty air and said with disgust, “Translucent, if you ever dare peep on me taking a piss again, I’ll punch your asshole inside out!”
While Starlight looked on in confusion, the air shimmered and distorted, revealing a transparent human silhouette.
Not daring to resist Queen Maeve in the slightest, he merely grinned at Starlight—faceless, with only a neat row of gleaming white teeth opening wide toward her.
The scene nearly drove Starlight mad on the spot.
This was her first day joining The Seven, but her worldview had been completely shattered.
In front of the cameras, the superheroes worshipped by millions had lower standards than the next.
At this moment, Starlight’s lifelong superhero dream collapsed into pieces.
…
In the corridor outside the office…
The Deep ran into the person he feared most.
A blue-and-white suit modeled on Superman’s, the only difference being that the red cape was replaced with the American Stars and Stripes.
His golden hair was immaculately combed, his face cold and sharp, without a trace of emotion visible on his features.
He just stood quietly in the hallway beneath his own portrait, admiring it peacefully, as if lost in his own world.
Only The Deep knew that while Homelander appeared to be admiring his portrait, he was actually using his X-ray vision to peep through the wall at Vought Vice President Madelyn breastfeeding.
It had to be said that his team leader had some truly unique quirks.
The Deep didn’t tiptoe past quietly like he usually did.
Instead, he walked up openly and greeted him, “Hey, bro!”
The Deep said, “I’m heading down to grab a coffee.
Want me to get you one?
Or…
some warm milk?”
Homelander turned his head slightly, a flicker of surprise and a satisfied smile breaking across his face.
“Warm milk!
Thanks!”
For a moment, The Deep almost forgot that the man in front of him was the mercurial, cold-blooded killer Homelander, and instead saw the leader of The Seven—a polite, considerate captain who looked after his teammates.
After buying a cup of warm milk for Homelander, The Deep didn’t disturb his leader’s mood any further.
He only saw Homelander peeping at Madelyn with his X-ray eyes while greedily lapping at the warm milk with his tongue.
Back in his own office, The Deep took stock of his current situation.
Although he was portrayed as a joke and an unlucky loser throughout the show *The Boys*, right now was his absolute peak in the story.
As a member of The Seven, his public image hadn’t collapsed, nor had he been discarded by Vought.
Apart from the top three powerhouses—Homelander, Queen Maeve, and Black Noir—his status was roughly equal to the other two members, A-Train and Translucent.
On top of that, he could bully the newcomer, Starlight.
However, his career would soon start heading downhill.
First, he tried to be too clever for his own good, making Vought realize that The Seven ran fine with or without him, turning him into a disposable pawn.
Second, he annoyed Homelander with his stupidity.
To be fair, aside from bullying teammates whenever he felt like it, Homelander was a decent team leader in other respects.
Even when The Deep fell to his lowest point, Homelander never kicked him while he was down.
It was just that The Deep’s repeated foolish acts convinced Homelander he was a complete idiot, so when Homelander could have saved him, he chose to stay silent instead.
Third, he hadn’t cleaned up his mess regarding Starlight.
He allowed Starlight to expose the incident in the media, causing his public image to collapse overnight.
To quell the online outrage, Vought kicked him straight out of The Seven, kicking off his downward spiral in life.
Not a big deal.
I can fix this.
Lying on his bed, The Deep pondered his next moves and slowly closed his eyes.
…
The next day.
The Deep attended his first Seven meeting since transmigrating.
It was still that iconic V-shaped conference table.
Homelander sat at the head of the table, hands clasped, eyes closed to rest his mind.
Flanking Homelander were Maeve and Black Noir, followed by Translucent and A-Train, and finally himself and Starlight opposite him.
Even the seating arrangement reflected their hierarchy in this superhero team.
The Deep smiled at Starlight across the table, only to be met by her eyes immediately shifting into their glowing golden form.
Unbothered, The Deep spread his hands, signaling her to relax.
*Starlight, you’re an adult now.
You should know how to weigh the pros and cons.*
The confrontation between the two naturally caught the eyes of the other five, but it didn’t draw a single question.
After all, The Deep was a pure scumbag—universally recognized.
Whatever he did came as no surprise to anyone.
This meeting mainly addressed the issue of pirated merchandise featuring The Seven.
Floating between Maeve and The Deep were a shirt and a pair of black-framed glasses, while a suspended fountain pen twirled lazily in the air.
Though it looked bizarre, everyone had long gotten used to it.
Translucent slowly revealed his outline and reported to Homelander: “Lately, a massive amount of pirated versions of our movies and merchandise have hit the market.
According to company estimates, Vought loses about $1.2 billion annually because of these knockoffs.
Since we get a 4% royalty cut on our merch, these bootleggers are basically stealing money right out of our pockets.”
“What?”
A-Train, sitting across from Translucent, nearly jumped out of his seat and demanded indignantly, “Isn’t it a 2% cut?
When did it get raised to 4%?”
Translucent slipped back into his invisible form and snickered, “It’s always been 4%!”
A-Train glared furiously at Homelander, demanding an explanation.
Homelander felt a headache coming on.
He genuinely wanted to blast this bastard Translucent with his laser vision.
He didn’t blame A-Train for being angry because his anger was justified, but Translucent had definitely done that on purpose.
Homelander took a deep breath, suppressing the murderous urge in his heart.
Suddenly, three ridiculously exaggerated gasps echoed through the room: “Wow!
Wow!
Wow!”
Everyone involuntarily turned to look at the source—The Deep.
The bottom-feeder of The Seven, the trash fit only for dredging up garbage from the sea floor.
Leaning back in his office chair, The Deep looked playfully at the Black man, A-Train, and chuckled, “A-Train, I advise you to show our leader the respect he deserves.
Otherwise, I’ll break your third leg.”
“What?” A-Train threw his hands up in confusion, channeling a certain Lakers legend, a look of utter disbelief on his face.
The rest of the room looked on in astonishment, completely unprepared for The Deep to have the guts to open fire on A-Train today.
*Did you fucking crawl into Homelander’s bed last night or something?*
Only Homelander wore a look of deep gratification.
*There really are good teammates in this world.*
The Deep stood up, pulled a hundred-dollar bill out of his pants pocket, and asked A-Train, “A-Train, do you know how much purchasing power a hundred bucks had back in 1800?”
A-Train looked totally baffled, furrowing his brow as he glanced around at the others, seemingly trying to find the answer to The Deep’s question on someone else’s face.
The others couldn’t figure out what The Deep meant either, until The Deep extended an index finger and pointed straight at A-Train.
A-Train asked, confused, “Me?”
“Yes!” The Deep nodded.
“Alright.
Now I’ve got ninety-nine dollars left.
I’m gonna go lease a cotton field, then spend five cents on a long whip.”
The conference room erupted into roaring laughter.
Homelander’s laughter was particularly boisterous, sounding like a drowning duck—*quack, quack, quack…
quack, quack, quack…*—laughing so hard that The Deep wondered if he was about to pass out.
Only Starlight looked at The Deep with intense disgust, mouthing a single word: “Scum.”
Yet deep inside, a strange wave of relief washed over Starlight.
If The Deep bullied every single teammate equally, then her own experience didn’t seem quite so uniquely unbearable.
“Fuck you, Deep!”
A-Train roared.
Moving at supersonic speed, his body blurred into a shadow.
A gust of wind rushed past, and in the next second, he was clutching The Deep by the throat, slamming him onto the floor.