“Dr. Lynn, the Board of Directors wants to see you.”
Ashley’s voice came through the receiver, carrying a tremor of post-crisis relief and an imperceptible hint of awe.
“I understand.” Lynn hung up the phone, his expression calm.
He adjusted his suit collar and was about to head up to the Board’s conference room on the top floor of Vought Tower.
However, a security guard in a tactical vest silently appeared at his office doorway, blocking his path.
“Dr. Lynn,” the guard’s voice was as standard and robotic as a machine.
“Mr. Homelander has requested an additional consultation. Immediately.”
Lynn’s movements paused.
He looked down the hallway and saw Ashley clutching her phone, looking over with an anxious face.
She was frantically mouthing words, seemingly saying “sorry” and “don’t cross him.”
Lynn understood.
The Board’s orders were worth less than nothing in the face of Homelander’s demands.
He nodded to the security guard.
“Lead the way.”
Returning to the familiar consultation room, Lynn found that the place had changed.
The hole seared through the corner by the heat vision was still there, but all the remaining surveillance cameras in the room had been removed, leaving only a few empty sockets.
The decorations, the water cup on the desk, and even a single pen had vanished from the room.
The entire space had been cleared out, leaving only two sofas—like a cage stripped of all clutter to contain a wild beast.
But this was meaningless.
Because the most dangerous thing in this room was Homelander himself.
He wasn’t sitting on a sofa.
Instead, his back was to the door as he stood before the massive floor-to-ceiling windows, overlooking New York City below.
He didn’t turn around when he heard the door open.
“You made me very uncomfortable today, Doctor,” Homelander’s voice was quiet.
In the glass’s reflection, Lynn could see there wasn’t a trace of a smile on his face.
Lynn’s heart tightened.
“But I don’t hate it,” Homelander slowly turned around, that familiar, perfect smile once again plastered on his face.
“So I’m giving you a chance. A chance to work for me permanently.”
He walked up to Lynn and held up a finger.
“First, not a single word of our conversations is to be leaked to anyone at Vought International, including the Board.”
He held up a second finger.
“Second, do not treat me like your patient. I am not sick. What you need to do is understand me, and then take my side.”
Finally, he held up a third finger, almost poking Lynn’s nose.
“Third, and most importantly.”
His smile widened, but his gaze became bone-chillingly cold.
“Do not betray me.”
Lynn stared at him in silence.
The air in the room seemed to freeze solid.
“And what if,” Lynn spoke up, his voice devoid of any emotion, “I violate these rules?”
The smile on Homelander’s face instantly beamed to its absolute limit—a grin laced with cruelty and pleasure.
“I will start by killing everyone you care about.”
His voice was as soft as a lover’s whisper, yet the words were malicious enough to make one’s blood run cold.
“I will make them disappear one by one right in front of your eyes. Your parents, your friends, the woman you like, even the dog downstairs that wags its tail at you every day.”
“If you claim you have no one you care about,” Homelander leaned in closer, his breath hot against Lynn’s ear, “then I will make sure you do. I’ll let you make friends, find a lover, and start a family. I’ll give you time to love them, to get used to their presence.”
“And then, I will slaughter them all right in front of you.”
These words were an outright curse delivered by a “god.”
Lynn felt as though his very blood were about to freeze.
Yet he knew that he absolutely could not show any fear.
The moment he showed fear, he would become a plaything Homelander could manipulate at will.
He had to strike back.
Lynn took a deep breath and met Homelander’s blue eyes.
“These aren’t rules,” Lynn’s voice was terrifyingly calm.
“This is a pre-emptive threat because you are afraid of losing control.”
The mirth in Homelander’s eyes instantly went cold.
Lynn didn’t stop.
He knew he had to strike while the iron was hot.
“You told me not to treat you like a patient, but your behavior right now is a textbook stress response to insecurity. You crave establishing a relationship of absolute loyalty that is entirely within your control, because your past experiences have taught you that any relationship outside of your control will ultimately lead to betrayal and abandonment.”
He stared straight at Homelander, speaking word by word.
“The more you emphasize ‘no betrayal,’ the more it proves that in your heart of hearts, you believe betrayal is inevitable.”
[Mild emotional fluctuation detected from target: Homelander!]
[Defense-Break Points +20!]
[Reward: Minor increase in Heat Vision proficiency.]
The system’s prompt echoed in his mind, and Lynn felt a barely perceptible warmth spread through his eyes.
Homelander stared intently at Lynn, the temperature in the room plummeting rapidly.
He didn’t fly into a rage, yet the pressure radiating from him was heavier than ever before.
After an agonizingly long ten seconds or so, he suddenly spoke up, asking the most direct and lethal question.
“So, will you betray me?”
There was no dodging this question with wordplay.
Homelander could hear his heartbeat; any lie would be exposed instantly.
Saying “no” would be self-deception; Homelander wouldn’t believe it.
Saying “yes” was asking for death.
Lynn looked at him, showing a trace of helpless candor on his face for the first time.
“I don’t know,” he said.
Homelander raised an eyebrow slightly.
“I will only make the choice that is most beneficial to me at any given moment,” Lynn said, his tone incredibly earnest.
“And right now, as well as in the foreseeable future, surviving—and living well—is what is most beneficial to me.”
“Earning your trust and becoming your irreplaceable ‘listener’ is my greatest insurance for staying alive.”
“Therefore, I will not do anything to jeopardize that insurance. Not for your sake, but for mine.”
These words made no professions of loyalty, nor did they offer any guarantees.
They simply laid “self-interest” bare on the table.
Yet, this extreme honesty actually gave the deeply paranoid Homelander a sense of authenticity.
Homelander stared at him for a long time.
The coldness on his face suddenly melted, and he let out a low chuckle.
“Honest,” he evaluated, a flicker of appreciation in his eyes.
“I like honest people.”
With that, he pulled a black metal card from the pocket of his suit and casually tossed it to Lynn.
Lynn caught it reflexively.
The card felt cold to the touch and carried a heavy heft.
“Since you want to understand me, words alone are useless.”
Homelander turned around and walked back to the floor-to-ceiling window, his back to him.
“Go see how they ‘made’ me in the first place.”
Lynn looked down at the card in his hand.
The Vought International logo was engraved in the center of the card, with a line of tiny authorization text underneath.
“Access Level: Old Archive Room.”
“Authorization Source: Madelyn Stillwell, Legacy Clearance.”