Soldier Boy’s gaze left Homelander breathless, more than any roar.
Homelander stood up, not knowing what to say.
He perceived the disappointment in Soldier Boy’s eyes.
In his gaze there seemed to be a trace of weariness, as if saying: “I knew this would happen, but I still hoped it wouldn’t happen to you.”
In an instant, the color drained from Homelander’s face.
He opened his mouth, wanting to say something.
But any explanation that could have come from his lips was blocked by Benjamin’s silent gaze.
Because Homelander knew deep down that, no matter what he had been thinking, and no matter if he had finally submitted, he seemed to be just one step away from becoming again that softie controlled by Madelyn Stillwell’s milk.
Madelyn Stillwell got up from the sofa and tugged at the wrinkled collar of her blouse, trying to regain some semblance of composure.
“Mr.
Soldier Boy, I think this is a misunderstanding…”
“Shut up, you disgusting old whore.
If you want a man, go find a homeless beggar on the street.”
Benjamin said.
Madelyn Stillwell’s mouth snapped shut.
She was afraid that Benjamin’s shield would suddenly crash into her head.
Benjamin didn’t look at her again.
His gaze remained fixed on Homelander for a long few seconds before he turned and left.
The sound of footsteps faded down the hallway, each step striking hard against Homelander’s heart.
The only sounds left in the room were the faint whistle of the air conditioning vent and Madelyn Stillwell’s rapid, uneven breathing.
Homelander stood motionless, his hands hanging at his sides, clenched into fists.
Madelyn Stillwell reached out to touch his shoulder, but he moved away to avoid her.
That evasive movement was more decisive than any of his previous actions, without a moment’s hesitation.
“Leave.
Get out now.”
Homelander said.
Madelyn Stillwell stood behind him, moving her lips, but in the end she said nothing.
She bent down to pick up her purse from the sofa and walked toward the door on her high heels.
As she passed by the door panel that had been kicked off its hinges, she paused for a moment before hurriedly leaving.
When Homelander tells someone to leave, they must leave; that’s the first rule when dealing with Homelander.
Those who don’t leave will never get another chance.
Homelander was alone in the empty room.
In front of him was the metal door panel that his father had kicked off its hinges.
There was a deep footprint on the door.
He walked forward, crouched down, and reached out to touch the footprint.
Soon after, Homelander followed him.
…
Benjamin was already there, because he knew Homelander would come.
Homelander approached the desk in front of Benjamin and stood still.
The edge of his cape fluttered slightly behind him before coming to rest.
Homelander kept his hands at his sides, his shoulders slightly tense.
He moved his lips, wanting to say something, but didn’t know where to start.
He rarely felt his tongue heavy, but at that moment, it felt like it was full of cement.
Benjamin stood up and then raised his right hand.
Homelander’s pupils contracted.
His body reacted a step faster than his brain; his neck instinctively shrank back and his shoulders instinctively tensed upward half a centimeter.
This superhero, the most powerful in the world, upon seeing his father’s raised hand, made the instinctive gesture of flinching.
He was waiting for the fist to fall.
Like the punch on the rooftop, like the punch he received on the shoulder in the conference room.
And honestly, he was already used to it.
Since childhood, making a mistake meant punishment.
The lab researchers punished him for not cooperating with tests, various experimenters punished him for not performing well enough, and Vought punished him for disobeying.
So it was normal for his father to punish him because he had disappointed him.
But the fist didn’t fall.
Benjamin’s hand remained suspended in the air, hovering over Homelander’s cowering head, and then he withdrew it.
One second.
Two seconds.
Three seconds.
Homelander slowly raised his head and looked at Benjamin.
His expression reflected total confusion.
Benjamin looked at him, slowly lowered his hand that had been suspended in the air, and pressed it against the back of his own neck.
“Did you think I was going to hit you?”
Benjamin said.
Homelander raised his head, opened his mouth, and said in a hoarse voice: “I thought you were disappointed in me.”
“I am disappointed in you.”
Benjamin looked at him and slowly withdrew his hand.
“Look at yourself.
You really are a softie.
You’ve disappointed me greatly.”
Homelander’s face turned deathly pale.
So in the end, he really was disappointed?
He felt that being scolded by his father with those words was worse than getting a few punches.
“I, I wanted to refuse just now.”
His words began to become incoherent.
“Even if you hadn’t stopped me, I wouldn’t have done it…”
“The way you looked at that old whore earlier, it seemed like you were dying to get into her pants.”
Homelander opened his mouth.
“What’s your relationship with that old whore?”
Benjamin’s voice dropped.
“Friends with benefits?
Or some kind of mother-son roleplay?
If it were the former, I wouldn’t have been so angry; after all, it’s your private life and none of my business, but when I walked in, it didn’t seem like a simple man-woman relationship.”
Homelander stood there, a panicked expression on his face.
“Did you sleep with her?” Benjamin asked.
Homelander hesitated for a moment and then nodded.
“Please, don’t look at Madelyn Stillwell as if she’s your mother, alright?
She’s just your fucking mistress.
You can throw her into bed after you’re done with her, pull up your pants, and leave.”
Homelander nodded again.
Madelyn Stillwell wasn’t his mother, nor was she an old woman.
She could even be one of the Vought employees who framed Soldier Boy.
Moreover, Madelyn Stillwell’s heart rate had been very fast until that moment; she was certainly lying…
Benjamin watched him nod several times in a row, was silent for a few seconds, then stepped forward and reached out to pat him on the shoulder.
“Come have a drink with me tonight.”
Homelander looked up; he had never drunk alcohol before.
“I’m not saying an adult man can’t drink milk.”
Benjamin withdrew his hand.
“But I hope you drink it like a man, no matter what damn female creature it comes from, and not like a weak baby.”
“Please, you’re the most powerful superhero in the world.
Show an attitude worthy of a world leader.
Not only must you be the number one superhero in the world, but also the number one man in the world!”
Homelander stood still, reflecting on that phrase.
Like a man, not like a little kid…
The corners of his lips twitched.
“What should we drink?”
Homelander asked.
“Beer first, then hard liquor.”
Benjamin walked toward the door, turned his head to look at him, and said: “You pay.
That damn Vought still hasn’t paid me my salary.”