Hearing Soldier Boy scold The Deep, Homelander’s mouth visibly twitched, his Adam’s apple moved, and he struggled to maintain his composure.
The Deep’s face turned the color of liver.
He wanted to say something.
He wanted to defend himself, to retort, to say that those dolphins were willing.
But The Deep looked at Homelander.
Then, seeing Benjamin’s look of disgust, he finally chose to remain silent.
Benjamin didn’t waste time with him; he was nothing more than a nobody who liked saltwater.
Starlight hadn’t arrived yet; when that time came, if the events of the original series really happened, he could find an opportunity to intimidate and discipline her then.
Soldier Boy turned his gaze to the last person he needed to address.
“Maeve.”
Maeve was a little surprised.
She had already been addressed once, in relation to Translucent’s matter.
“You need to be a real superhero.”
The tone of this sentence was different from all the previous lessons.
To be honest, apart from her orientation, Maeve didn’t seem to have any other notable traits.
And that wasn’t a big deal; at least it was better than what The Deep did.
Compared to the others, she was still too normal.
Maeve didn’t speak; her lips moved and she nodded heavily.
Soldier Boy seemed really different from the rest of her teammates…
Contemplating Benjamin’s perfect, charismatic face, Maeve thought to herself:
“I will, sir,” Maeve said.
Benjamin looked away and observed Homelander, who was watching the spectacle from the side.
“Everyone else, leave. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
Homelander, stay.”
The sound of chair legs scraping against the carpet echoed through the conference room.
Translucent was the first to stand up and quickly turned invisible to slip away.
The Deep followed closely behind, head down and looking somewhat displeased.
When A-Train turned his wheelchair, the wheels hit a table leg with a dull thud, and he cursed under his breath.
Ashley hurried out after them.
Maeve was the last to leave.
As she passed by Benjamin, her steps paused briefly, she glanced at him from the corner of her eye, and then left quickly.
The conference room door slammed shut behind her.
…
Benjamin turned to look at his son.
Homelander stood by the head of the long table, his cape hanging silently behind him.
His arms had gone from crossed to hanging at his sides.
The previous posture, standing with arms crossed and watching coldly, was gone.
It was replaced by a posture he wasn’t even used to himself.
Since everyone else had been reprimanded, he was the only one left in the office.
Would his father reprimand him?
Homelander thought to himself.
Benjamin picked up the shield from the desk, the metal edge lightly tapping against the table.
He hung the shield on the back of the chair next to him, pulled out the chair, and sat down.
He raised his hand and pointed his index finger at the chair next to him.
“Sit.”
Homelander hesitated less than a second. This chapter was taken from g.com without permission.
Then he sat down.
He didn’t lean back in the chair; instead, he straightened his back, placed his hands neatly on his knees, and the tips of all ten fingers rested right on the edge of his suit’s knee armor.
His cape was gathered behind him, hanging through the gap between the seat cushion and the backrest, forming a small red pile on the carpet.
Benjamin observed that sitting posture and couldn’t help but find it amusing.
The pose seemed a little familiar to him.
In reality, he had rarely seen Homelander sit like that.
In his impression, Homelander would cross his legs, lean back in his chair with a condescending, lazy posture, or simply stand looking down at others with those blue eyes, always wearing a smile that conveyed a sense of serene superiority.
But at this moment, Homelander’s posture—knees together, hands flat, back straight—was no different from a ten-year-old child sitting in a principal’s office waiting to be scolded.
A scene flashed through his mind.
In the fifth season of the original series, the original body took Homelander to see Marathon.
At that time, Homelander was wearing his suit, but he was sitting on the sofa with his hands on his knees, his back straight, silently listening to the old men’s chatter; that posture was that of a child accompanying his father to visit an old man’s house.
Even when faced with the obscene jokes Marathon made at his expense, Homelander didn’t immediately erupt into a massacre, but restrained himself, all because he was trying to give Soldier Boy a lesson.
At his core, Homelander was nothing more than a child.
Benjamin looked at those hands resting on his knees and suddenly realized something.
The man before him didn’t smoke, didn’t drink, didn’t do drugs, didn’t frequent prostitutes, and had no bad habits.
From a certain point of view, he could even be considered a paragon of moral virtue in the world of superheroes.
A model citizen…
well, he just liked killing people.
Although his liking for killing was a bigger problem than all his other virtues combined, he was still a child.
A child who had been tortured by Vought in a laboratory, rescued and immediately placed in the spotlight, someone who never fully grew up.