“Let’s go out and see.”
“See who’s feeling so brave.”
Homelander’s smile was brilliant yet cruel as he turned toward the emergency exit leading up to the surface.
Lynn followed calmly behind him.
Homelander did not bother grasping the handle.
Instead, he pressed his hand flat against the heavy alloy door.
*Sssss—*
A faint, sickening sizzle of melting metal sounded.
Using his heat vision, he burned a fist-sized hole directly through the lock mechanism, sending droplets of red-hot molten iron splattering onto the floor.
Then, with a gentle shove, he pushed the door open.
Outside stood four heavily armed members of a Vought tactical squad, weapons raised.
Their expressions morphed from high alert to shock, and finally into absolute terror, in the span of a single second.
They had never expected the door to open like that.
And they certainly had never expected the smiling god standing behind it—the one person on Earth they least wanted to face.
Through Lynn’s super hearing, the thudding of their hearts sounded like war drums, thick with the panic of men on the verge of death.
Homelander did not attack.
He merely strolled out into the corridor, his gaze wandering across each terrified face like an artist admiring his own handiwork.
“Who sent you?” he asked softly.
No one dared answer.
One of the more faint-hearted operatives buckled at the knees, his legs giving out entirely as he slumped onto the floor.
Homelander smiled.
He relished the thrill of subduing an enemy without lifting a finger.
He stepped over to the fallen operative, leaned down, and spoke in an almost tender tone.
“Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”
“I just want you to go back and deliver a message to your superiors.”
His gaze swept over everyone present, finally settling on Ashley, who was rushing toward them from the far end of the hallway.
“From now on, without my permission,” Homelander said, his voice not particularly loud, yet carrying clearly across the entire floor, “no one touches him.”
It went without saying who “him” referred to.
That single declaration made Lynn’s position far more perilous than ever before.
He was no longer a disposable asset to be sacrificed at will.
He had become a piece of private property stamped by a god, off-limits to prying hands.
The looks the Vought International executives gave Lynn completely changed.
Awe, wariness, and an unmistakable undercurrent of dread.
Once the storm had passed, Lynn returned to his office.
Her face still bore its usual exhaustion and anxiety, but the look in her eyes held a gravity Lynn had never seen before.
“Dr. Lynn,” she said, getting straight to the point.
“The board just convened an emergency meeting.”
“They believe your influence over Mr. Homelander has exceeded our expectations.”
Ashley took a deep breath, as though trying to convince herself to accept this insane decision.
“Starting today, you will serve as a special psychological consultant to The Seven and attend all internal meetings.”
Lynn said nothing, listening in silence.
“Your duties are no longer limited to calming him down,” Ashley continued, her tone turning stern.
“During meetings, you must observe the emotional state of every member, assess team cohesion risks, and, when necessary… steer Mr. Homelander toward decisions that best serve Vought International’s interests.”
Lynn understood.
Having realized they could not circumvent him, Vought had opted for a different approach.
They wanted to turn him into a remote control kept right beside Homelander.
It was both an attempt to win him over and a far more sophisticated form of imprisonment.
“Understood,” Lynn replied calmly.
He knew he had no room to refuse.
Nor did he want to.
This door led to a whole new batch of “experience packs.”
The next day, Lynn stepped into the conference room on the top floor of Vought Tower for the first time—the room that symbolized absolute power.
The massive round conference table was crafted from an unidentified black metal, with an enormous Vought International insignia emblazoned at its center.
Behind each seat was an emblem representing one of the heroes.
Lynn was assigned an unmarked seat placed slightly back from the main table.
An observer’s perch.
When he arrived, everyone was already present.
Homelander sat in the head seat as a matter of course, smiling like a monarch surveying his court.
Queen Maeve slouched in her chair, her eyes vacant, completely indifferent to her surroundings.
The Deep was leaning toward A-Train, murmuring a joke that clearly was not funny, while A-Train bounced his leg in visible agitation, paying him no attention whatsoever.
Starlight sat quietly in her place, hands tucked under the table, looking somewhat ill at ease.
Black Noir was like a black statue, motionless, as though blending into the shadows.
Lynn’s entrance caused a brief hush to fall over the room.
Curious, scrutinizing, or hostile glances landed on him from every direction.
“All right, everyone. Our agenda today concerns next week’s ‘Hope Coast’ joint rescue broadcast.”
She switched on the projector, displaying a series of meticulously prepared slides.
“According to PR’s plan, this operation will emphasize teamwork. Homelander will handle the core rescue, Maeve will oversee the evacuation, A-Train will manage high-speed supply transit, and The Deep…”
“Wait.”
A clear voice interrupted Ashley.
It was Starlight.
She looked up, a mix of confusion and inner conflict written on her face.
“I read the briefing. The seawall along that coast has severe structural flaws. Why aren’t we just repairing the seawall directly, instead of waiting for a disaster to happen so we can livestream a rescue?”
The air in the room instantly turned to ice.
Ashley’s expression stiffened into sheer awkwardness.
The Deep looked at Starlight as if she were an idiot.
A-Train let out a derisive scoff.
“Naive. How are you gonna pull ratings by fixing a seawall compared to a live rescue?”
The smile on Homelander’s face faded slightly.
He cast a glance at Starlight, his eyes dripping with impatience.
Maeve remained expressionless, but through his emotion perception, Lynn caught a brief flicker of cynical self-mockery stirring within her.
“Starlight, engineering will follow up on those technical matters,” Ashley quickly interjected, trying to smooth things over.
“What we need to discuss right now is how to maximize the impact of this event.”
Starlight opened her mouth to argue, but under Homelander’s icy stare, she ultimately fell silent.
Lynn took in the entire scene.
Once again, he had confirmation that this so-called superhero team was rotten to the very core.
The meeting concluded in an atmosphere of slick, hypocritical efficiency, with everyone receiving their respective “scripts.”
Just as the others were preparing to stand and leave, the perpetually restless A-Train shoved back his chair too fast, accidentally knocking over his water glass.
With a sharp clatter, the glass shattered on the floor, water splashing in every direction.
“Sorry!” he stammered, visibly flustered.
Lynn’s gaze shifted to him.
To an ordinary person, it would have seemed like nothing more than a clumsy mistake.
Yet with Lynn’s newly enhanced super hearing, he caught the rhythm of A-Train’s heart.
It was nowhere near normal.
Erratic, frantic, like an engine pushed past its redline on the verge of blowing apart, thick with irregular murmurs.
Right then, a cold system chime rang out in his mind.
[Target detected: A-Train.]
[Status: Substance dependence, anxiety over power decline.]
[Breakable.]