Barker Heights.
The pyramid ruins had a new team working around the clock for the past few days.
Bright floodlights lit up the underground chamber like daylight, casting stark shadows on the stone walls.
A supervisor wearing a hard hat and munching on a hotdog shouted, "Get to work, slackers!"
"We're paying you well, so act like it. A day's work here is worth three out there!"
"If you want that beer money and a date this weekend, you'd better hustle."
"Oh, and don't touch anything you're not supposed to. Everything in this pyramid belongs to Eckley Corporation."
"Try to pocket something, and I'll skin you alive!"
The supervisor took a big, greasy bite of his hotdog and gulped down some instant coffee. His eyes scanned the room and settled on two thin, pale men heading for the exit with their hats pulled low.
The two men looked exhausted, their eyes ringed with dark shadows as if they hadn't slept in days—or perhaps they were addicts of some kind.
The supervisor put down his coffee and called out, "Hey, you two!"
"I don't think I've seen you around before."
"Hey! I'm talking to you!"
"Security! Security!"
But by the time security showed up, the two men were long gone.
On the highway out of the highlands, a dusty, worn pickup truck rumbled along, neither fast nor slow. In the cab sat the same two men from the pyramid.
The older one had chestnut hair and sharp brown eyes, his voice raspy as he muttered, "Not a single guard left in the sanctum."
The younger man, driving with his hands firmly on the wheel, kept his voice low. "I took a look around. The workers said it might've been Homelander."
The older man's eyes widened. "No way. How could Homelander know about the sanctum?"
"He might not know about the sanctum itself, but our people did push to free Ruin several times."
The driver replied, "Maybe he followed that trail to this location."
The older man extended his hand out of the window, and as soon as the sunlight hit it, his skin reddened and began to smoke, small flames flickering on his knuckles.
He quickly pulled his hand back and slapped out the flames. The burnt skin healed instantly, the pain gone as quickly as it had come.
"No wonder the Speaker sent us to investigate. It turns out the sanctum's been breached."
"Since we were granted the 'Divine Blood' by Speaker Brox two years ago and became Immortals, none of us has seen him."
"In the past two years, Senator Alfiel has been producing a diluted version of the 'Sacred Blood' for our soldiers to counter the superhumans."
"We thought the 'Night Council' could establish a new empire across the ocean, but Homelander has thwarted our plans time and again!"
The younger man nodded, pressing down on the gas. "Even Senator Brad failed, something I didn't expect."
"His 'Black Bat Circus' is different from us. They're all superhumans."
"And Brad even brought a 'thermobaric bomb'…"
The older man looked at his fully healed hand and said, "It seems we underestimated Homelander. For now, the council will probably lie low."
The driver nodded, and the truck sped away, disappearing over the horizon.
---
Nightfall.
But in New York, the night was anything but dark and quiet.
Here, the night was more dazzling, more indulgent than the day.
As Homelander strolled through the corridor, he spotted Maeve stepping out of the elevator.
Her auburn curls draped over her shoulders, and tonight, instead of her usual warrior armor, she wore a fitted pencil skirt and black stockings, a look that radiated elegance and allure.
To be fair, Maeve wasn't young anymore. Compared to someone fresh and vibrant like Starlight, Maeve would be considered past her prime if she weren't a superhuman—someone who might already be married, with a family of her own.
But there's something to be said about experience. Only green boys think youthful innocence is everything.
Yes, once upon a time, Homelander had been one of those boys.
He recalled his early days, working for a corporate boss who once told him, "Married women have their own charm."
He hadn't believed it back then. But during a business trip with that boss, he had finally understood what she meant.
"A good evening to you."
Maeve, dressed to impress, greeted him, intentionally showing her best angle, her gaze alluring and mischievous.
And, frankly, if anything was attention-grabbing, it was Maeve's figure—especially from this angle.
"Good evening." Homelander stopped, not minding the glances from the employees around them. If anything, he seemed amused by the unspoken grumbles of jealousy he probably inspired.
"Anything I can help you with?" he asked with a smile.
Maeve smirked. "I remember you once asked if I'd be free in the evenings."
"Well, tonight, I am. Want to grab a drink together?"
Homelander stepped in close, his hands folded behind him as he leaned toward her, exuding an aura of command that left no room for resistance.
His gaze wandered slowly down, lingering in shadow before he said, "Should I take this as… an invitation?"
Maeve sensed the overpowering intensity radiating from the man before her, the same bold, relentless energy that had led him to ignore the hearing and crash the board meeting.
The things he did were what she had always dreamed of doing, yet never dared to.
She knew exactly what Homelander meant by 'invitation.'
Maeve's voice wavered, and as her stocking-clad feet shifted inside her heels, a strange thrill—a feeling she hadn't known since her teenage years—surged through her. She nodded slightly.
And then, as she felt his breath against her ear, a thrill electrifying her senses, she heard his answer:
"I'm honored. But I'm afraid tonight, I'm busy."
"There's something I need to take care of."
"So, my apologies."
He gave her a light smile.
Then he left.
Maeve felt a hollow emptiness settle in her chest. Just as anticipation had reached its peak, disappointment set in like a cold wind, leaving her with an inexplicable ache that made her want to reach out and stop him from walking away.
But her pride held her back, and she turned, a swirling storm of emotions, and walked to her room.
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