Lynn closed the folder.
The words on the title page seemed to carry physical weight, burning into his retinas.
“In the event of subject ‘Homelander’ suffering an uncontrollable, total breakdown: Projected fatalities in New York City: 21,000,000.”
The sheet of paper felt far colder than the black metal card Madelyn had left behind.
He had barely set the folder back down when the office door swung open soundlessly.
Ashley’s secretary stepped in, wearing a practiced, professional smile.
“Dr. Lynn, members of the board would like to see you. Please follow me.”
Lynn smoothed down his suit and followed her toward the boardroom on the top floor of the tower.
He knew the real trial was only beginning.
The conference room wasn’t large; rather than a meeting room, it felt more like an interrogation chamber.
The massive floor-to-ceiling windows were obscured by smart frosted glass, blocking out the sky and leaving only an oppressive milky white.
Only three people sat around the long table:
Ashley, the Director of Public Relations; the head of the legal department; and a Vought executive overseeing Hero Management.
As soon as Lynn took his seat, the executive spoke first, a congratulatory smile on his face.
“Dr. Lynn, on behalf of Vought International, I want to thank you for your outstanding work. You successfully de-escalated Mr. Homelander and averted a potential PR disaster.”
Lynn merely nodded, remaining silent.
He knew this was just an opening pleasantry.
Sure enough, the executive cut straight to the chase with his next sentence.
“To better support your work moving forward, we need to clarify a few details.” He leaned forward, hands clasped over the table.
“What, exactly, did you say to Mr. Homelander in that consultation room?”
Ashley’s eyes tightened with tension.
With the surveillance destroyed, those fifteen minutes of dialogue had become a thorn in the leadership’s side.
“Consultation contents are protected by doctor-patient confidentiality,” Lynn answered calmly.
The head of legal cut in immediately, his voice chilled to the bone.
“Dr. Lynn, understand this: your employer is Vought International, not Mr. Homelander. All deliverables from your work are corporate assets.”
“My deliverable is that Homelander is currently emotionally stable,” Lynn met his gaze directly.
“As for the process, that falls within my professional discretion.”
The air in the room instantly stiffened.
“Why did Mr. Homelander insist on designating you as his sole, exclusive consultant?”
“Perhaps because I’m the first doctor who dared to tell him the truth,” Lynn offered an ambiguous response.
“The truth?” The legal chief scoffed coldly.
“What kind of truth makes him torch three million dollars’ worth of corporate surveillance equipment on your behalf?”
Lynn swept his eyes across the three faces.
“He simply doesn’t like being gawked at like a zoo animal while undergoing psychological counseling.”
The explanation was thoroughly reasonable, leaving them with no counterargument.
The executive fell silent for a few seconds, seemingly reassessing Lynn’s threat level.
“Very well.” He nodded, sliding a document across to Lynn.
“Since you have already earned Mr. Homelander’s trust, we also need to upgrade our working relationship.”
Lynn looked down.
It was a brand-new non-disclosure and employment agreement, heavily appended with additional clauses.
Its terms were a hundred times more draconian than the contract he had signed when hired.
[The signatory shall not record any consultation contents involving Homelander in any medium, including paper, audio recordings, or electronic documents.]
[The signatory shall not initiate any unnecessary private contact with other members of The Seven without authorization from the corporation.]
[The signatory is obligated, when deemed necessary, to cooperate with the Public Relations department to administer ‘memory narrative interventions’ on designated superheroes.]
Lynn’s eyelid twitched.
“Memory narrative intervention”—plainly put, altering a hero’s memories so they would believe the narratives manufactured by PR.
Vought International wasn’t looking for a therapist.
They were looking for a more sophisticated instrument of mind control.
“I’ll need to consider this agreement.” Lynn neither signed nor refused on the spot.
“Of course.” The executive seemed to have anticipated his reaction.
Lynn pushed the document back and posed his own question:
“Before I sign, there is something I must clarify. The objective of my work is to maintain Homelander’s emotional stability. If, during this process, Mr. Homelander’s demands conflict with Vought International’s directives, who do I listen to?”
The conference room fell into a brief silence.
The question struck directly at the heart of the matter.
Ashley’s expression soured—this was a dilemma she faced every single day.
Giving them no time to recover, Lynn pressed on: “If I lack sufficient clearance to handle unexpected situations, or cannot even assess the baseline psychological states of my ‘patients,’ I cannot guarantee results.”
He looked directly at the executive, his tone calm yet resolute. Visit g.com for the full chapter.
“I have no desire to become the third doctor sent to the ICU.”
At those words, the faces of all three executives changed simultaneously.
They realized Lynn was no naive newcomer they could manipulate at will.
He understood his own leverage and wasn’t afraid to use it.
The executive traded a swift glance with the legal chief.
Finally, the executive made his decision.
“Your request is reasonable,” he said slowly.
“Starting today, you are granted temporary Level 2 clearance.”
“You may access the baseline mental health files of all members of The Seven, with the exception of Black Noir.”
“You may attend all internal crisis meetings concerning The Seven.”
“Furthermore, security at your office and residence will be elevated to the maximum tier.”
Lynn knew full well that “maximum tier security” simply meant round-the-clock surveillance.
It was Vought’s compromise, but also their warning.
“I accept,” Lynn said with a nod.
He had obtained what he wanted.
Vought International believed they had locked him in a more sophisticated cage, unaware that they had handed him the keys to unlock even more doors.
The meeting adjourned.
As the head of legal passed by Lynn, he paused and whispered in an undertone:
“Vought can make you a hero consultant, and Vought can wipe you entirely from every record on the face of the earth.”
Lynn’s expression remained completely unbothered.
He stepped out of the conference room.
Ashley hurried up to him, handing over a tablet computer.
Her voice had regained its customary rapid pace, but tinged with a complex nuance Lynn had never heard before.
“Here’s your next assignment.”
On the tablet was the photo of a man in a green supersuit, flashing a sunny smile.
“Homelander is stable for now,” Ashley rubbed her temples, exhaustion written across her face.
“Now, go see The Deep.”
“He’s gotten himself into trouble again.”