At this moment, Vought Tower had already concluded its 2019 shareholders’ meeting.
The noisy crowds had long since dispersed, and the corridors were silent.
The radiance of the day had been replaced by the silence of the night.
Those giant posters hanging on the walls— Homelander’s iconic smile, Queen Maeve’s cold profile, the moment A-Train sprints, under the illumination of the corridor lights, still maintained their perfect curves, only no one stopped to look up at them anymore.
Of course, there was also The Deep’s own.
Tomorrow, Starlight—that is, Annie January—would be added here as well.
Vought Tower is one of the most eye-catching landmarks in Midtown Manhattan.
Its height of eighty-two floors is not the most prominent in the New York skyline; the Empire State Building and One World Trade Center are both taller.
But the Vought logo suspended directly above the building—a gray inverted triangle composed of the numbers 1 and 7—makes it striking enough even at night.
Looking over from New Jersey on the other side of the Hudson River, that triangle looks like a low-orbiting artificial satellite, constantly reminding this city: who the true ruler is.
The interior structure of the building is divided into three zones.
The ground floor to the twentieth floor are the floors open to the public.
The first floor is a lobby with a three-story high ceiling, the floor paved with white marble imported from Italy.
In the center is a circular aquarium with a diameter of fifteen meters, extending from the basement level up to the second-floor ceiling.
Inside, various marine life airlifted from the Atlantic Ocean are kept: reef sharks, manta rays, and schools of butterflyfish.
Every day, tourists take photos here.
The Vought souvenir shop is on the second floor, selling life-size body pillows of The Seven, laser pointers, and capes identical to Homelander’s.
The twenty-first to fiftieth floors are the office area.
Vought’s legal department, public relations department, marketing department, and film production department are all crammed into these thirty floors.
The fifty-first to seventy-ninth floors are the exclusive area for The Seven and other registered superheroes.
On the fifty-first floor is the circular conference room.
An oval long table sits in the center, and seven chairs are arranged according to the ranking of The Seven.
Homelander’s chair is at the very head, its backrest ten centimeters higher than everyone else’s.
The lounge area is on the east side of this floor, featuring what is said to be the best coffee machine in all of New York, a bar counter that is always stocked with snacks, and a floor-to-ceiling glass wall that allows one to overlook all of Lower Manhattan during the day.
The fifty-second to fifty-seventh floors are the training area.
Queen Maeve’s training room occupies half of the fifty-second floor.
Her training room is designed like a military combat arena, with the floor covered in thickened shock-absorbing mats, and the walls hung with various cold weapons—long swords, daggers, battle axes—these are for sparring partners.
The fifty-third floor is A-Train’s training room.
The number of treadmills has increased from one to twenty, not because he uses them simultaneously, but because when he runs at supersonic speeds, a regular treadmill falls apart in three seconds at most.
Vought specially developed a magnetic levitation treadmill for him, with tracks driven by electromagnetic fields, which is said to be able to withstand speeds of up to Mach 8.
But A-Train never runs that fast in the training room.
If he accidentally ran too far and crashed through the wall, below is the lounge area on the fifty-first floor, and below that is the legal department on the forty-ninth floor; it wouldn’t be easy to explain if he wrecked either of them.
The fifty-fourth floor is Homelander’s training room.
Rarely used.
To be precise, Homelander’s training room has only been used twice in the past year.
Once was for filming a promotional video, and the other time was when he was in a bad mood and went in to use his Laser Eyes to slice a row of steel targets in half.
Vought’s engineers spent three weeks repairing that wall, and ever since then, Homelander’s training room hasn’t contained anything that could be “tested” by his powers.
Black Noir does not have a separate training room.
Black Noir doesn’t need one.
Black Noir only appears on the battlefield.
The fifty-eighth to seventy-first floors are private suites.
Each member of The Seven has their own room, with the interior design customized entirely according to personal preference.
Homelander’s suite is on the seventy-first floor.
He is the face of The Seven, and his private space must be the place closest to the “sky.” The entire floor is his, including a private elevator, private terrace, private cinema, and a refrigerator that is always stocked with fresh milk.
Queen Maeve is on the seventieth floor.
A-Train is on the sixty-ninth floor.
Translucent does not have a fixed floor.
No one knows where he sleeps at night, or rather, no one can be sure if he is standing right next to you.
The Deep’s suite is on the fifty-eighth floor.
Far away from everyone else.
Coming out of the elevator, there is a narrow corridor, and at the end is a dark wooden door with a nameplate labeled “The Deep.” There is always a faint smell of salt in the corridor at the entrance.
The seventy-second to seventy-ninth floors are the office area for Vought’s middle management and some special-purpose floors.
Above the eightieth floor is the true core of power.
Madelyn Stillwell’s office, as well as the offices of Vought International CEO Stan Edgar and the board members, are all here.
The 82nd floor is also the true power center of Vought Group; all orders are transmitted down from the 82nd floor.
Chen Mo thought to himself as he arrived at the fiftieth floor.
He was pretending to be aimless while gathering information.
With a “ding” from the elevator, he stepped out.
A glance from the corner of his eye, and his hair almost stood on end.
It was Homelander, the one person he was most afraid of seeing right now.
Not because he had done something wrong—well, he actually had.
Although he had fooled Translucent, what if Homelander had been listening somewhere with his super hearing at the time?
Chen Mo’s back instantly stiffened, but his footsteps did not stop.
He couldn’t stop.
He couldn’t suddenly turn back to the elevator.
He couldn’t dilate his pupils.
He couldn’t let his heart rate speed up—although it already had—but he could only pray that Homelander wouldn’t be bored enough to listen to the heartbeat of a loser like The Deep.
As he walked, he wondered why Homelander was here.
Twenty meters.
Fifteen meters.
Ten meters.
Crossing an arc, Chen Mo walked closer and closer, while Homelander remained focused, stretching his neck to stare intently at his own giant poster on the wall.
The moment he saw the poster, Chen Mo understood.
Madelyn Stillwell—it must be Madelyn Stillwell.
This adoptive mother of Homelander must be behind the wall, which was the only way to make Homelander’s super-perception completely indifferent to the surrounding environment.
“Hey, Homelander,” Chen Mo greeted him, imitating The Deep’s original tone.
“Oh, The Deep, are you okay?” Homelander’s expression showed some shock and panic.
“Why are you here so late?” Immediately, Homelander composed himself, reverting to his usual impatient attitude toward The Deep.
“I couldn’t sleep, so I was walking around,” Chen Mo replied immediately.
It was better not to stay here right now.
“I think I should go back to sleep.” “Then you’d better hurry back to your room,” Homelander said, flashing his signature smile.
“Okay, I’ll head back right now.” Chen Mo avoided Homelander’s eyes and walked quickly into the elevator.
As the elevator doors closed, he finally let out a sigh of relief.