Late at night, in Vought Tower, Madelyn Stillwell’s private office.
The Mayor of Baltimore, Tony, sat in the center of the leather sofa.
Madelyn sat across from him, her skirt meticulously smoothed beneath her knees, a standard professional smile on her face.
“Three hundred million a year, an exclusive contract for Nubia Prince.”
Her voice was soft.
“Baltimore’s crime rate has reached an all-time high; your constituents need a superhero.”
The mayor took a sip of whiskey and put the glass down on the sofa armrest.
“I know about Compound V.”
Madelyn’s smile didn’t change, but her fingers stopped on the sofa armrest.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Of course you do.”
The mayor spoke confidently, leaning back on the sofa with a determined smile at the corner of his lips.
“Two hundred million a year.
Otherwise, this report will be on the front page of The Washington Post tomorrow.”
Madelyn looked down at the envelope on the coffee table.
The office was silent for five seconds.
“I will consider your proposal.”
The mayor stood up, buttoned his suit jacket, and strode out of the office.
The door closed behind him.
Madelyn threw the envelope into the shredder.
Soon after, she called the mayor and negotiated a suitable price.
…
Not far away, having heard the conversation in the room thanks to his super hearing, Homelander’s eyes showed a glint of anger.
The temperature in his blue eyes dropped to freezing point.
The mayor.
A simple municipal official, daring to threaten Vought International and Madelyn Stillwell with a few printed papers.
His way of thinking was the same as always: he thought about flying over the plane and splitting it in two with his laser eyes.
Clean and efficient.
However, he stopped.
An image crossed his mind.
Soldier Boy, standing in the conference room, said in an expressionless tone: “Our reason for being is to protect those weak people.”
My father had been sold by Vought International for forty years.
Vought International used Compound V to create supervillains, used superheroes to stop them, and then generated profits…
Why would he kill for Vought International?
Homelander’s knees slowly straightened, his cape fell back, and the snapping sound ceased.
He looked down at the lights of New York stretching beneath his feet; those lights looked different than before.
After observing for a while, Homelander stepped away from the window.
Forget it, I won’t go.
Outside the window, the New York night sky remained as silent as ever.
No red cape streaked across the horizon, no laser beam pierced the clouds.
The mayor’s plane landed safely at an airport, and neither the mayor nor his son knew that they had just brushed against death.
…
In Vought Tower, the Executive Director’s office was still lit.
Starlight stood at the door, having changed out of her golden suit into a simple white shirt and jeans, carrying a bottle of champagne she had brought from the ballroom.
Her blonde hair hung loose over her shoulders.
“Come in.”
“Soldier Boy, I’m here to thank you.”
Starlight entered and set the wine on the coffee table.
“About what happened tonight in the conference room…”
Although what Soldier Boy said was very harsh.
But…
he still protected her, so Starlight definitely had to thank him.
“No need to thank me, it’s late and you still have time to buy yourself some champagne.”
Starlight’s expression was a little awkward, but she still placed the wine on the desk.
Is this Soldier Boy’s style of language?
Benjamin poured the champagne into a glass.
A moment later, he continued:
“He thinks he’s exercising some kind of natural privilege…
so let me remind you that there’s more than one person like that at Vought International, but I consider myself relatively normal.
If you have any problems, you can come to me.
After all, I’m the leader of The Seven, and all of The Seven, including my son, who’s a bit of a softie, is under my command.”
“Sir, is Homelander really your son?”
Starlight was incredibly surprised.
Because this matter had not yet come to light in the media.
“Although he’s a bit soft, his personality isn’t very good, and he gets emotional easily, he is undoubtedly the strongest superhero in America.
I’m proud of him.”
Benjamin took a sip of champagne and said, his face full of pride.
Not far away, Homelander, who possesses super hearing, heard Benjamin praising him.
“You too.
Just like me, you’re the strongest superhero in America.”
Homelander murmured to himself.
Starlight lowered her head and remained silent for a while, processing Benjamin’s words about his son.
The way he spoke of Homelander, with such sincere pride despite acknowledging his flaws, was something she hadn’t heard from any other Vought executive.
“Sir…
I thought joining The Seven was my dream.
Now I’m not sure this dream is what I imagined.”
Benjamin looked at her, understanding her doubts.
“The dream is real.
It’s this godforsaken place that doesn’t deserve it.”
Benjamin took another sip of champagne and put the glass down on the coffee table.
“But you, you can make this place worthy of it.
Just like my son is learning to be better, you can also find your own path within all this chaos.
Don’t let Vought’s rot define you.”
Starlight looked at him.
This man, who seemed to have stepped out of a black-and-white photograph from a history textbook, spoke differently from all the Vought International executives she had met.
No empty promises, no corporate jargon, no talk about brand value or fan growth curves.
His words were a little rough and a little harsh, but they were sincere.
She smiled:
“Thank you, not just for tonight.”
Starlight looked at Benjamin’s handsome face, slightly dazed.
The next morning.
Vought Tower’s Human Resources department issued two announcements with unprecedented efficiency.
The first was public.
The Deep resigned from his position as a member of The Seven for “personal reasons,” effective immediately.
The PR department drafted a farewell statement in ten minutes, mentioning his outstanding contributions to marine conservation and the injuries sustained during his long fight against crime.
At the end, they attached a “personal statement” from The Deep, written with great emotion.
Of course, The Deep himself had not written a single word.
The Deep took his suitcase out through the side door of Vought Tower, with white medical tape on his nose and a bruise the color of blue-violet on each of his cheekbones.
He tried to hide it with a baseball cap and sunglasses.
The Deep stood at the curb and looked back at Vought Tower; he once thought that was the light that belonged to him.
He sighed, opened the car door, and got into the back seat of a taxi.
The door slammed shut and the taxi merged into the morning rush hour traffic of Manhattan.
But, fortunately, although he was kicked out of The Seven, he still worked at Vought International, and Madelyn Stillwell told him there would be opportunities for a return in the future, depending on his performance.
Of course, this was nothing more than polite conversation.
Benjamin didn’t care about such trivialities; mainly, to begin with, he didn’t like The Deep.
Of course, if The Deep changed his attitude and became less sordid, Benjamin wouldn’t mind him coming back.
In the afternoon,
Hughie Campbell arrived at Vought International.
Hughie Campbell came anyway and received compensation; after all, A-Train almost killed his girlfriend.
In the elevator, when Benjamin saw Hughie Campbell, he noticed that Hughie Campbell was very nervous.
“Why the hell did you, you fucking queer, suddenly come to Vought International?”
Benjamin asked, knowing the answer.
Hughie Campbell looked a little uncomfortable and said: “I came to Vought International to accept the compensation.”
“Accept this compensation and go back to living a good life.
After all, you and your girlfriend, who was almost turned into paste, are still alive, aren’t you?”
Hughie Campbell nodded: “I will, sir.
Also, thank you for saving my girlfriend’s life back then.”
Benjamin patted Hughie Campbell on the shoulder; although it was already very light, it still made Hughie Campbell wince.
Benjamin didn’t know how much of his advice Hughie Campbell had absorbed.
Maybe he listened, maybe he didn’t.
In the end, he might still end up hanging out with Butcher.
However, apart from deeply hating Butcher’s speeches, Benjamin didn’t hate that group of people.
Perhaps, tripping up Vought International and tripping up Stan Edgar could also involve using them.
After all, Benjamin wasn’t much stronger than the original Soldier Boy; he just had a slightly more robust physique and was a little faster.
He also didn’t know if Vought International had any Plan B to deal with him and Homelander.
Of course, even without the members of The Boys, Homelander would eventually take control of Vought International.
Using The Boys might speed it up.
…
The next morning, Translucent disappeared.
A living person, an invulnerable superhero, suddenly vanished into thin air.
Vought International and the others didn’t care much; after all, Translucent often used his invisibility to go play elsewhere.
Benjamin sat behind his desk, taking his first cup of coffee of the morning.
The plot had already begun.
Yesterday, Hughie Campbell and Butcher had already made contact with Translucent and kidnapped him.