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"An explanation?"
Homelander chuckled. "I don't need to explain myself to anyone."
"Besides," he added, his gaze sharp as a blade, "do you really think you're in any position to demand answers from me?"
Edgar walked over, standing next to Homelander as he looked out at the city skyline like a king surveying his kingdom. His voice was calm but firm. "Perhaps you've forgotten—it's the company that pays your salary. So, yes, I think I at least have the right to ask for an explanation about what happened."
Homelander stood tall, hands clasped behind his back, a faint gleam of gold lighting up his eyes. He didn't say a word, but the commanding aura radiating from him spoke volumes.
The atmosphere in the command hall grew tense, heavy with an impending storm.
Though Edgar kept his eyes trained on the city outside, his gaze flicked subtly to the reflection in the glass. The figure was blurry, but he could still make out Homelander's stern features—and the brightening golden glow in his eyes, like two miniature suns about to burst.
In that instant, a chill ran down Edgar's spine, his shirt growing damp with sweat. Despite his years at the top, even he couldn't stop his fingers from trembling in the face of Homelander's unspoken threat.
Clearing his throat, he clenched his fists and made a calculated choice, stepping slightly behind Homelander, his eyes lowered to the floor at a cautious 45-degree angle.
Now, all he could see was Homelander's back.
The golden glint in Homelander's eyes faded slowly. He finally spoke. "I think you've got it backward, Edgar."
"It's not the company that's paying me; it's because of me that this company even has money to pay out."
"Wouldn't you agree?"
Edgar instinctively tugged at his tie, feeling as if it had suddenly become too tight, restricting his breathing. After a moment's hesitation, he finally replied, "Homelander, the reason this company and the superhuman program exist is because we operate within limits."
"Our boundaries are our foundation," he continued, voice steady but measured. "Making a senator disappear—even a 'former' senator—is crossing that boundary."
"Once people see us as a threat, it won't be long before our position becomes… precarious. You understand that, don't you?"
Homelander smirked, shaking his head slightly. "I don't enjoy threatening people either."
"As long as they don't get in my way." He lifted his hand and made a quick "bang" gesture.
The tension in Edgar's face tightened briefly before he forced a smile. Loosening his tie with a rough tug, he took a step back. "Always a pleasure talking with you."
"Enjoy your day, Homelander."
Without looking back, Homelander waved him off. "You too, pal."
Edgar kept his smile on until he stepped out of the command center, where he spotted Ashley waiting just outside the doors. With a deceptively warm smile, he patted her shoulder.
"Keep up the good work assisting Homelander," he said before glancing back into the command room one last time, then striding toward the elevator.
Inside the elevator, as the doors closed, Edgar's pleasant expression vanished, replaced by a look as dark as a storm cloud.
Meanwhile, Ashley quickly entered the command center, feeling almost honored by the brief exchange with Edgar. Straightening her posture, she greeted Homelander with a touch more energy than usual, feeling grateful for her chance to work alongside him.
"Homelander, Black Noir's returned," she announced cheerily.
Homelander nodded and gestured with a quick flick of his hand. "Bring him in."
Ashley made a call to bring him in, then added, "By the way, PR is asking when we're resuming hero activities. Media and the public are all watching closely."
Homelander chuckled. "Give it a little time. Let certain people sit in silence and reflect on their own incompetence. Maybe then they'll see things clearly."
Ashley mentally filtered out his less polite remarks, already crafting a more diplomatic response for PR. Just then, footsteps echoed as Black Noir entered the room.
The black-suited hero set down a heavy-looking metal case with a loud thud.
Homelander guessed what was inside but glanced up at Noir anyway.
Ashley stepped closer, explaining, "This was recovered from the ocean. Since we no longer have The Deep, it took some time to retrieve with other submersible equipment."
Homelander gestured at the case. "Open it."
Black Noir complied, flipping the lid open.
A foul stench wafted out immediately, and inside were dismembered body parts—some almost unrecognizable, others disturbingly distinct, like a severed finger.
"Oh my god..." Ashley gasped, clapping her hand over her mouth and dashing out to the restroom.
Homelander barely reacted, his face impassive as he looked down at a line scrawled on the inside of the case lid: For You.
Ashley returned shortly, still pale and avoiding the box entirely as she focused on the wall. "Is that… Blue Hawk?"
Homelander's gaze dropped to a blood-stained mask in the case, then smirked, gesturing for Noir to close the lid.
"Whoever did this didn't dispose of the body." Ashley shook her head, her confusion clear. "Why leave it where we could find it?"
"That's exactly the point," Homelander replied with a smirk. "This isn't just a body—it's a declaration, my dear."
"Someone's challenging us."
In his mind's eye, an image of a burly man with a beard surfaced. "Noir," Homelander ordered, "Take the Lamplighter and look into Blue Hawk's last known whereabouts. See what he was up to."
"They want to play games? Let's play. We have plenty of free time on our hands."
Noir nodded and walked out.
Turning to Ashley, Homelander raised an eyebrow. "Well, what are you standing there for? Clean up this mess, or do you plan to let these body parts sit here?"
Hurriedly, Ashley called for security to remove the case.
"Clean up the area thoroughly," she ordered before Homelander left the command center.
His phone vibrated as he stepped into the hallway. A message from Angelina popped up:
Master, Mr. Edgar has called an executive meeting, but he wouldn't let me attend.
Homelander's lips curved into a smile as he stepped into the elevator, pressing the button for the 88th floor.
Meanwhile, on the 88th floor, Edgar stood at the head of a long conference table, addressing a room of board members, his gaze steely as it scanned each face.
"Ladies and gentlemen, yesterday, our stock suffered a massive drop, losing 7% of its value."
"This is an unprecedented crisis in the history of Vought!"
"While the stock has since rebounded, it nearly gave me a heart attack," he said, managing a bitter smile.
An elderly board member looked over at Edgar, his tone almost accusatory. "Care to explain how we got here, Edgar?"
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