“Correct.” Dean answered without the slightest hesitation.
“It really is…” Looking at how clean and direct the answer was, Norman felt a headache starting to build.
Supernatural powers were no secret in this world.
But aliens… Even someone at Norman Osborn’s level had only ever heard the word.
He had never seen a real one.
Hearing his own son casually announce that the world was about to get flipped by supes and aliens was a lot to swallow in one sitting.
Saying Norman did not believe Dean would also be a lie.
Dean had “predicted” more than a couple of major events in the past, and every single one of those predictions had landed dead-on accurate.
Deep down, Norman actually bought it.
After turning it over in his head for a while, Norman finally made a decision.
Things had already reached this point.
Might as well go to sleep first.
“Forget it.
Just hearing the word ‘aliens’ is giving me a migraine, and I’m tired anyway.
I’m heading back to the room to stay with your mother.
Handle Vought however you want.
If you need anything from Oscorp, just say the word.” “As for the aliens… future problems can wait for the future.” Since he could not wrap his head around the issue, Norman decided not to poke at it at all.
Let someone better equipped deal with it.
And no one was better equipped than his adopted son.
The only job left for Norman was simple.
Keep expanding Oscorp’s empire so it could stand as Dean’s solid foundation.
That way, even if Dean truly went to war with Vought later, Oscorp would be able to cover his back.
That was the one thing an ordinary man like Norman could still do for Dean.
Dean was not surprised in the slightest that Norman simply stepped back and handed him the reins.
Ever since Dean had proven he could stand on his own two feet, Norman almost never interfered in his business.
He would do exactly what he was doing now: get a basic grasp of the situation, decide there were no major red flags, then pull back and support whatever Dean decided to do.
After finishing the rest of his meal alone, Dean went back to his room, logged onto Vought International’s official website, and submitted an application resume in under a minute.
Once it was done he stretched out on the bed, a faint spark of excitement and anticipation in his eyes.
“Brother… after eighteen years, we’re finally going to meet…” As Homelander’s twin, the same blood running through both of them, it would be a complete lie to say Dean had zero feelings about the whole thing.
Before, he simply had not been confident enough to go against Vought, so he never actively sought Homelander out.
Now, whether in raw power or in resources, Dean had finally stacked enough cards to stand against Vought head-on.
So he was genuinely looking forward to that first meeting with Homelander.
…
The next day.
High up inside the towering Vought Tower in downtown New York, a young man with blond hair and blue eyes, dressed in a dark blue suit and a star-spangled cape, was taking deep, nervous breaths.
Homelander.
His name was John.
No last name.
Only the code name Homelander.
For the past eighteen years most of his life had been spent inside laboratories and the carefully controlled zones Vought assigned him.
This was the first time he was about to face so many people, so many cameras, and so many fellow supes he would soon call teammates.
Saying he was not nervous would have been pure bullshit.
Homelander paced back and forth, turning to the figure in the black suit standing behind him.
“Black Noir, what kind of people do you think my future teammates will be?
Will they be easy to get along with?
As the captain meeting them for the first time, should I go for majestic… or more approachable?” Hearing Homelander’s slightly shaky voice, Black Noir stayed completely calm.
He pulled out a piece of cardboard and started writing with quick, sharp strokes of the pen.
Homelander was not surprised.
He simply waited for Black Noir to finish.
[Don’t be nervous.
You are the strongest superhero in the world.
You are the best supe.
The absolute center of everything.
You don’t need to put on any act.
Just watch the tryouts and calmly welcome your teammates.
Vought International will handle the rest.] The flattering reassurance on the cardboard made Homelander, who had been deliberately raised by Vought to be starved for affection, let out a long breath of relief.
He clenched his fists and pumped himself up.
“That’s right.
I’m the best.
I am Homelander.
I’m not afraid of anyone!” Black Noir gave him a solid thumbs-up.
Homelander could not stop himself from pulling Black Noir into a hug, voice thick with emotion.
“Ever since I was little, the only person I’ve ever really trusted is you.
You’re always right there beside me, making me feel safe.
Thank you, Black Noir!” Black Noir: “…” Sorry.
I’m probably going to betray that trust.
I’m just the guy Vought intentionally put here to play the good cop… and the one who will put you down the second you lose control.
Black Noir thought that to himself.
He could not say any of it out loud.
Hell, he could not speak at all anymore.
That tight-lipped silence was exactly why Vought felt comfortable sticking him next to Homelander.
Click—!
The automatic door to The Seven’s conference room on the 99th floor slid open.
A woman in an orange women’s suit hurried inside.
The second she stepped through she saw Homelander and Black Noir locked in a hug in the middle of the room.
“……..” “Oh my god!
Sorry, sir, I… I didn’t mean to walk in on this.
It’s just that Ms.
Madelyn asked us to let you know the official tryouts for The Seven have already started.
You’re requested in the arena…” Ashley spun around instantly, pretending she had seen nothing, but her slightly trembling shoulders gave her away.
That’s right.
The woman who just walked in was the ultimate stress-sponge of The Boys, the one who climbed from a nobody assistant all the way to CEO of Vought and even President of the United States later in the show: Ashley.
Homelander let go of Black Noir in a hurry.
His neck and face flushed red.
“Ashley, it’s not what you think.
I was just… just…” He tried to explain, but the words stuck in his throat.
He had no idea how to finish the sentence.
With something like this, the more you explained the worse it usually looked.
Swish, swish, swish—!
Black Noir started writing on the cardboard again.
When he finished he turned the board so Homelander could see it.
[You are Homelander.
You don’t need to explain anything to your employees.] Homelander stared at the words for a second.
Something in his eyes shifted.
“That’s right.
I am Homelander.
I can do whatever the fuck I want.
I don’t need to explain shit to anyone!” His panicked look twisted into something meaner.
“You fucking idiot bitch, who the fuck told you to walk in without knocking?
Remember to knock next time, understand?”