Free Web NovelChapter 18: Chapter 18: I’m Proud of Him
Chapter 18: I’m Proud of Him
Late night, Vought Tower, Madelyn Stillwell’s private office.
Mayor Steve of Baltimore sat dead center on the leather sofa. Madelyn sat opposite him, the hem of her skirt neatly pressed beneath her knees, a standard professional smile plastered on her face.
"Three hundred million a year for an exclusive contract with Nubian Prince," her voice was gentle. "Baltimore’s crime rate is at an all-time high. Your constituents need a superhero."
The mayor sipped his whiskey and set the glass on the armrest of the sofa. "I know about Compound V."
Madelyn’s smile didn’t waver. But her fingers paused on the armrest. "I don’t know what you’re talking about."
"Of course you do," the mayor said confidently, leaning back into the sofa with a certain smirk. "Two hundred million a year. Otherwise, this report hits the front page of The Washington Post tomorrow morning."
Madelyn looked down at the envelope on the coffee table. The office fell dead silent for five full seconds.
"I’ll consider your proposal."
The mayor stood up, buttoned his suit jacket, and strode out of the office. The door clicked shut behind him. Madelyn tossed the envelope into the shredder. A moment later, she placed a call to the mayor, negotiating a mutually agreeable price.
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Not far away, having overheard the conversation through his super-hearing, Homelander’s eyes flared with anger.
His blue eyes turned ice-cold. A mayor. A petty municipal official, daring to threaten Vought and Madelyn with nothing but a few printed sheets of paper. His default line of thinking was exactly what it had always been—fly over and use his Heat Vision to slice that plane clean in half. Quick and neat.
Yet, he stopped. An image flashed through his mind.
Soldier Boy standing in the conference room, stating flatly: "We exist to protect those weak, helpless pussies."
His father had been sold out by Vought for forty years. Vought used Compound V to manufacture Supe-Terrorists, then deployed superheroes to stop them just to turn a profit... Why the hell should he keep murdering people for Vought’s sake?
Homelander slowly straightened his knees, his cape dropping still behind him as the snapping wind died down. He looked down at the myriad of lights from the New York skyline below; the lights somehow looked different than before. After staring for a moment, Homelander stepped away from the window.
Forget it. He wasn’t going.
Outside the window, the New York night sky remained as quiet as ever. No red cape streaked across the horizon, and no scorching laser tracks tore through the clouds. The mayor’s plane touched down smoothly at some airport, leaving the mayor and his son completely oblivious to the fact that they had just brushed past death.
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In Vought Tower, the lights in the office of the Executive Director of Superhuman Affairs were still burning.
Starlight stood at the doorway, having changed out of her gold suit into a simple white shirt and jeans, clutching a bottle of champagne she had brought out from the banquet hall. Her blonde hair fell loosely over her shoulders.
Benjamin looked up from behind his desk, glancing at the liquor in her hand. "Come in."
"Soldier Boy, I came to thank you," Starlight said as she walked in, placing the bottle on the coffee table. "About what happened in the conference room tonight..."
Though his choice of words had been incredibly brutal, he had still protected her. Starlight knew she had to show her gratitude.
"Save the thank-yous. It’s late as hell, and you still have time to buy goddamn champagne."
Starlight looked a bit embarrassed but still left the bottle on the desk. Is this just how Soldier Boy talks?
Benjamin poured the champagne into a glass. After a brief pause, he continued, "He thinks he’s exercising some sort of birthright... so let this be a reminder to you: there’s more than just one asshole like that in Vought. But I’m relatively sane. If you have any issues, come find me. After all, I’m the boss of The Seven now, and the whole team—including my pussy son—answers to me."
"Sir, Homelander... Homelander is actually your son?" Starlight was utterly shell-shocked. This piece of news hadn’t been leaked to the media yet.
"Even though he’s a bit of a pussy, has a garbage personality, and gets easily unhinged when things happen, he’s still undeniably the strongest Supe in America. I’m proud of him," Benjamin said, taking a sip of champagne, his face written with genuine pride.
Not far away, Homelander, using his super-hearing, overheard Benjamin praising him.
"You too. I’m just like you—the strongest Supe in America," Homelander murmured to himself.
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Starlight lowered her head, falling silent for a moment. "Sir... I used to think joining The Seven was my dream. Now I’m not so sure if this dream is what I imagined it to be."
"There’s nothing wrong with the dream. It’s this fucking place that doesn’t deserve it," Benjamin took another sip of champagne and set his glass back on the table. "But you can make this place deserve it."
Starlight looked up at him. The man who had walked straight out of the black-and-white photos of her history textbooks spoke completely differently from every other Vought executive she had ever met. No corporate promises, no motivational vitriol, and no talk about brand value or follower growth curves. His words were a bit coarse and incredibly blunt, but they were real.
She smiled. "Thank you, and not just for tonight."
Benjamin said nothing, merely lifting his glass slightly in response. Starlight stared at Benjamin’s handsome face, briefly losing herself in thought.
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Early the next morning. ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm
Vought’s HR department issued two notices with record-breaking efficiency.
The first was public: The Deep had resigned from his position as a member of The Seven due to "personal reasons," effective immediately. Within ten minutes, the PR department drafted a farewell statement highlighting his outstanding contributions to marine conservation and the lingering injuries he sustained from long-term crime-fighting. At the end, they appended a "personal reflection" from The Deep, written with heartfelt sincerity. Of course, The Deep himself hadn’t penned a single word of it.
Dragging his suitcase, The Deep walked out of Vought Tower’s side exit, medical tape plastered over his nose and deep purple bruises blossoming across both cheekbones. He tried to mask it with a baseball cap and sunglasses. Standing by the curb, The Deep glanced back up at Vought Tower—a place he once thought held his glory. Letting out a sigh, he yanked open a car door and slid into the back seat of a taxi. The door slammed shut heavily, and the taxi merged into the peak Manhattan morning traffic.
Fortunately, though he was kicked off The Seven, he was still employed by Vought International, and Madelyn had assured him that there would be opportunities for a comeback down the line, depending on his performance. Naturally, it was just corporate lip service. Benjamin couldn’t be bothered to care about such trivial matters; he simply found The Deep repulsive. Of course, if The Deep actually managed to turn over a new leaf and stop being so sleazy, Benjamin wouldn’t mind letting him come back.
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In the afternoon, Hughie arrived at Vought.
Hughie had come anyway to collect a settlement, since A-Train had nearly run his girlfriend over. Inside the elevator, when Benjamin crossed paths with Hughie, he noticed the kid was visibly sweating.
"What the hell is a pussy like you doing at Vought out of nowhere?" Benjamin asked, playing dumb.
Hughie looked a bit embarrassed and replied, "I’m here to receive a settlement from Vought."
"Take the cash and go live your life. After all, you and that girlfriend of yours who was almost turned into minced meat are still drawing breath, aren’t you?"
Hughie nodded. "I will, sir. And thank you again for saving my girlfriend’s life back then."
Benjamin patted Hughie on the shoulder. Even though he kept the force incredibly light, it still made Hughie wince and grit his teeth.
Benjamin had no idea how much of his advice Hughie would actually take to heart. Maybe he’d listen, maybe he wouldn’t, and he’d still end up getting tangled up with that cuckold Butcher. Still, aside from despising that cuckold’s rhetoric, Benjamin didn’t actually hate the Boys. In fact, if he wanted to topple Vought and bring down Edgar, he could easily make use of them. After all, Benjamin wasn’t much stronger than the original Soldier Boy—just a bit more durable and slightly faster. He didn’t know for certain if Vought had a hidden failsafe designed to neutralize him and Homelander. Of course, even without the Boys, Homelander would inevitably take over Vought sooner or later. Making use of the Boys might just speed up the process.
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Early the next morning, Translucent went missing.
A grown-up, invulnerable superhero had suddenly vanished into thin air. Vought and everyone else didn’t pay it much mind at first, since Translucent frequently went invisible to sneak off and mess around elsewhere.
Sitting behind his desk, Benjamin picked up his first cup of morning coffee.
The plot had officially begun. Yesterday, Hughie and Butcher had already made contact and kidnapped Translucent.
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A/n: If you want to read ahead and find out what happens next right away, you can read up to 20 Chapters ahead on my p@tr~on: [email protected]/ForgottenDaoist (@ = a, link is in my profile).
