Chapter 54: The Seven
It had to be said.
Wesley's efficiency was indeed astonishingly high.
Back when he was with Kingpin, his status as a mobster limited him.
Many things had to be kept hidden and handled through underground channels.
But things were different now.
Behind him stood the super idol of all America.
A god among men whom even the President would personally decorate.
With this golden reputation,
and Arthur's black card that was almost impossible to Max out,
Wesley moved between various government departments in Washington and New York.
He was like a fish in water, getting the green light all the way.
In just one week,
all approvals, licenses, and tax registrations were finalized.
Even the hardest-to-get "Supernatural Power Operating License"
was sent by Nick Fury via a fast messenger to Arthur's desk three days ago.
That black braised egg was clearly afraid that if he delayed too long, that ancestor would really go and dismantle the Triskelion.
Now that the paperwork was in order,
it was time to talk about the office location.
Although Arthur had sworn in front of the deep pit burned by his Heat Vision
that he would build a tower even taller than Stark Tower there,
building a skyscraper wasn't like playing with blocks.
Even with the power of money to accelerate it, it would still be a project measured in years.
Arthur couldn't wait.
And so,
he gave a grand wave of his hand.
"Buy it!"
"Since building is too slow, we'll just buy one that's already built!"
In the prime, high-priced core area of Manhattan,
a skyscraper that originally belonged to a near-bankrupt multinational conglomerate changed its name overnight.
A massive "Homelander" holographic projection sign was hung directly atop the building.
It emitted a faint blue glow in the night, overlooking all of New York.
This was the new headquarters of the Homelander Group.
...
Top floor, CEO's office.
The decor here was extremely luxurious, even flamboyant.
A full wall of floor-to-ceiling windows provided a panoramic view of Manhattan.
Arthur was dressed in his deep blue suit, his red cape draped casually over a priceless leather executive chair.
He sat with his legs crossed, playing with an exquisite fountain pen in his hand.
Although the company had been officially established,
he was in no hurry to hold a press conference or announce the news to the World.
Because currently, the Homelander Group,
aside from himself as the lone commander, didn't even have a decent watchdog.
That was too cheap.
"Boss."
Wesley pushed the door open and entered, holding a thick stack of documents.
He looked much better now than when he was with Kingpin.
The confidence of being a legitimate businessman made him look even more capable.
"The company's personnel structure has been set up. Logistics, PR, and legal departments are all operational."
"But..."
Wesley pushed up his glasses and said with some difficulty,
"As a superhero management agency, the only product we have to launch at the moment seems to be you."
"In terms of business logic, this seems a bit thin."
Arthur turned his chair to face Wesley.
A smile that suggested he had anticipated this appeared on his face.
"Thin?"
"Then go find people for me."
"In this World, there are plenty of unlucky bastards who have superpowers but are struggling."
Arthur pulled a list he had written long ago from a drawer.
He tossed it onto the desk, and it slid in front of Wesley.
"The people on this list are the products I want."
"That is, the future The Seven."
Wesley picked up the list and scanned it quickly.
The next second,
his pupils constricted sharply, and the hand holding the paper couldn't help but tremble.
The list didn't have many names,
but every single name, even just a glance, made one's scalp tingle.
[Erik Lehnsherr (Magneto)]
[Jean Grey (Phoenix)]
[James Howlett (Wolverine)]
[Pietro Maximoff (Quicksilver)]
[Wanda Maximoff (Scarlet Witch)]
[Max Dillon (Electro)]
Wesley took a deep breath.
As a former intelligence chief of the underworld, he was no stranger to the first three names.
Those were Mutants!
And the most dangerous, most troublesome kind among Mutants!
Magneto?
That terrorist who could uproot the Golden Gate Bridge?
The boss actually wanted to recruit him as an employee?
This was like trying to lock a Tyrannosaurus Rex in a pet cage!
"Boss..."
Wesley swallowed hard, his voice a bit dry,
"These few... Magneto and Wolverine, they are S-Rank fugitives and high-priority targets for S.H.I.E.L.D."
"As for the remaining ones..."
"Pietro? Wanda? Max?"
Wesley looked blank.
"With all due respect, there is no information on these individuals in my intelligence network."
Arthur leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced, his gaze playful.
"Of course you don't know."
"Because those twins are currently being held in a HYDRA Base in Sokovia, being used as lab rats."
"As for that Max..."
Arthur sneered,
"He's just an obscure electrical engineer at Oscorp Industries right now, a nobody that no one pays attention to."
"But that's not important."
"What's important is that I've seen their potential."
"Or rather, I've seen their commercial value."
He extended a finger and tapped the list.
"Listen, Wesley."
"Your task is simple."
"First, find Magneto and tell that old man that his ways are outdated. Following me will be much more promising than his pathetic Brotherhood."
"Then go to Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters and find Jean Grey."
"Finally, if you run into that cigar-smoking wolf-man, tell him I have the best liquor."
Wesley felt his back drenched in cold sweat.
These tasks...
which one wasn't a suicide mission?
"But, Boss..."
Wesley hesitated for a moment,
"What if they refuse?"
"Especially Magneto, he's notoriously stubborn."
"Refuse?"
Arthur laughed.
He laughed with terrifying 'friendliness'.
"No one can refuse Homelander's invitation."
"You just need to deliver the message."
"Tell them,"
"Homelander needs them."
"This isn't just a job; it's a chance at redemption."
"If they don't appreciate the favor..."
Arthur patted Wesley's shoulder, his strength a bit heavy.
It made Wesley wince in pain.
"Then tell them I will personally visit and have a good talk with them."
"I believe that in the face of my Heat Vision, everyone's communication efficiency will become very high."
Wesley shuddered.
He understood all too well what this "talk" meant.
Kingpin's corpse (if there was anything left of it) probably had a lot to say about that.
"I... I understand."
Wesley lowered his head and respectfully tucked the list away.
"I will use all resources to find their locations as soon as possible and convey your will to them."
"Very good."
Arthur waved his hand.
"Go now, and don't make me wait too long."
"You know how my patience is."
Wesley felt as if he had been granted a grand pardon. He turned and walked quickly out of the office.
The moment the elevator doors closed, he let out a long breath.
He found that his shirt was already soaked through.
...
Quiet returned to the office once more.
Arthur sat back in his executive chair and turned to face the massive floor-to-ceiling window.
Beneath his feet was the bustling Manhattan.
Countless pedestrians and vehicles, like ants, shuttled through the streets.
Arthur's eyes narrowed slightly.
Super Vision activated instantly.
His gaze pierced through layers of mist and crossed thousands of kilometers.
In the depths of a hidden forest, he saw an old man wearing a helmet, manipulating a magnetic field.
In a peaceful academy, he saw a red-haired girl sitting by a wheelchair, reading a book.
If he wanted to,
he could fly over right now and snatch these people back like catching chicks.
It wouldn't even take a minute.
But,
Arthur withdrew his gaze and took a bottle of '82 Lafite from the wine cabinet next to him.
"No fun in that."
He pulled the cork and took a direct swig from the bottle.
"I am the boss, the leader, the god."
"If I have to do everything personally, why the hell would I even start a company?"
"Why raise dogs? Isn't it so they can bite people?"
Arthur enjoyed this thrill of being in control of everything.
He wasn't just forming a team.
What he wanted was obedience, a kind of order.
"Let Wesley do the legwork first."
"Once this so-called 'The Seven' is established, I can free up my hands to play that even more interesting game."
Arthur's gaze turned toward the distant direction of Washington.
That was where the White House was located.
"The President..."
"Heh heh."
Arthur sneered in his heart.
That seat would be his sooner or later.
Not just because of the lure of power,
but to make up for the regret left by that poor wretch
who shared his name in 'The Boys'.
"When I sit in that chair,"
"when the whole World is prostrate at my feet,"
"then..."
A flash of red light vanished from Arthur's eyes.
"What laws, what morals, what bullshit Avengers Accords."
"They'll all be nothing but waste paper!"
"I'll do whatever I want!"
"I won't just be Homelander."
"I will also be"
"the Dark Lord!"
Chapter 55: Magneto
Canada, Northern Territories.
This is a forbidden zone for human civilization.
Perpetual snow covers the continuous coniferous forests, and the cold wind scrapes every inch of exposed rock like a knife.
No signal, no navigation, even a compass here would spin wildly as if drunk.
A black helicopter with no markings was struggling through the snowstorm.
Inside the cabin.
James Wesley was tightly wrapped in his expensive custom down jacket, his face as pale as paper.
He pushed up his glasses, which were already covered with a thin layer of frost.
He glanced at the crumpled coordinate map in his hand.
"Damn it..."
Wesley cursed in his heart.
Although he had done plenty of dangerous jobs when he was with Kingpin, those seemed like child's play compared to this current assignment.
But compared to this current assignment, those were simply playing house.
Recruit Magneto?
The Mutant leader who could uproot the Golden Gate Bridge and throw submarines like darts?
How was this different from suicide?
"Boss, you've really given me a tough one."
Wesley gave a bitter smile.
He recalled Arthur's nonchalant expression before he left.
As if asking him to catch a rampaging Tyrannosaurus Rex to keep as a pet.
It was as simple as going to the convenience store downstairs to buy a pack of cigarettes.
"If I don't go, the boss will throw me into space."
"If I go, Magneto might crush me into a meat patty."
Wesley took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down.
As the CEO's secretary for the Homelander Group, as the divine spokesperson on Earth.
He had no way out.
Moreover.
He couldn't disgrace his boss.
"It's just ahead."
The pilot's voice came through the headset, trembling slightly:
"Sir, the dashboard is malfunctioning! The magnetic field here is incredibly strong!"
Through the windshield.
Wesley saw the valley ahead, shrouded in a blizzard.
Amidst the vast whiteness, several strange buildings twisted from steel could vaguely be seen.
Like some postmodern artwork, standing on the ice plain.
"Land here."
Wesley adjusted his collar, his gaze resolute:
"If I don't come out in two hours..."
"Then run, and run as far as you can."
...
At the same time.
Deep within that steel fortress.
The temperature here was not much higher than outside, and a chilling metallic scent permeated the air.
Erik Lehnsherr, or rather, Magneto.
Was sitting on a throne forged from countless discarded tank parts.
He was not wearing his iconic helmet.
Revealing a head of silver-grey hair and a face etched with vicissitudes and arrogance.
In his hand, he was holding a few coins.
These coins were not touching his skin.
Instead, they were flipping and leaping nimbly between his fingertips, as if alive.
"Erik."
A woman with blue skin and a graceful figure walked over.
Mystique Raven.
She handed a newly intercepted encrypted intelligence report to Magneto, her expression unusually grave.
"This is a document leaked from within Trask Industries."
"The situation is worse than we imagined."
Magneto's finger moved slightly.
The coins instantly hovered in mid-air.
He took the document, his gaze quickly scanning it.
As he read deeper, the air around him began to tremble slightly.
The floating coins also began to hum softly.
[Sentinel Program: X-Gene Identification and Hunting System Test Report]
[The 7th generation prototype already possesses targeted evolutionary capabilities...]
[Expected to be fully deployed in 2014. Objective: Eliminate all Mutant threats.]
"Trask..."
Magneto whispered the name.
His voice carried a chilling coldness.
"These damned humans."
"They have never stopped trying to exterminate us."
"Even though we've hidden in this godforsaken place!"
Crack!
The document in his hand instantly turned to dust.
The twisted steel beams around him, used as decoration.
At this moment, as if sensing their Master's anger, emitted metallic twisting sounds.
The entire Base was trembling!
"I don't understand."
Magneto stood up.
He walked to a wall made of television screens.
On the screens, news about the American hero was playing.
It was Homelander being awarded a medal at the White House.
It was his heroic posture tearing apart an alien battleship.
It was the fervent scene of all humanity worshipping him.
"Look at this."
Magneto pointed at the blond man in the screen, smiling brightly.
His eyes filled with sarcasm and anger:
"A monster with god-like power."
"An anomaly who could wipe out humanity even without breathing."
"He is even stronger and more dangerous than us."
"But what about us?"
"Humans cheer for him, award him medals, and enshrine him as a savior on an altar!"
"And us?"
"We just want to survive, we want a little space of our own."
"Yet they create those damned robots to hunt us down!"
"Is this fair?!"
Magneto's rage reached its peak at this moment.
Boom!
A terrifying magnetic storm instantly swept out.
The television wall instantly exploded.
Countless electronic components and metal fragments flew in the air.
Then they were forcibly kneaded into a giant metal ball.
"This is human hypocrisy."
Magneto sneered.
The Toad next to him cowered in the corner, trembling with fear, not even daring to stick out his tongue.
Mystique also looked worried:
"But Erik, the Sentinel robots are real."
"If Trask really mass-produces this weapon, our situation will be very dangerous."
"Charles, that good-natured old man, is still dreaming of peaceful coexistence, and our current strength might not be enough."
Magneto fell silent.
He sat back down on the cold throne.
His eyes became sinister and deep.
He, of course, knew how grim the situation was.
The Brotherhood's talent was dwindling; the older generation had either died or left.
Most of the new generation of Mutants had been misled by that bald Charles.
Even as a Level 4 Mutant, he alone would struggle to resist the crushing force of an entire nation's machinery.
Moreover, there was now the unfathomable Homelander.
Magneto clenched his fists.
He needed power.
He needed more allies, or more powerful weapons.
In this oppressive atmosphere.
"Buzz—"
The Base's alarm system did not sound.
But Magneto keenly sensed something amiss.
It was the vibration of metal.
Someone had broken in.
And they carried an uncomfortable stench of ordinary humans.
"Since you're here, don't freeze outside."
Magneto did not get up.
He merely raised a finger slightly, and gently hooked it towards the heavy steel door.
Creak—!
The multi-ton gate slowly rose.
Cold wind swirled in with snowflakes.
A man in a down jacket and glasses stood at the entrance.
He brushed the snow off himself and pushed up his glasses.
Although his legs were trembling slightly, his face maintained a forced professional smile.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Lehnsherr."
Wesley walked into this perilous lair, carrying a black briefcase.
"Allow me to introduce myself."
"I am James Wesley."
"I represent the Homelander Group, and I'm here to discuss a business deal with you."
Hearing the words "Homelander."
Magneto's eyes narrowed sharply.
The suspended metal fragments around him.
Instantly changed direction, their sharp tips all pointing at Wesley's throat.
"Business?"
Magneto's voice carried undisguised killing intent:
"You want me to do business with the Avengers?"
"Give me a reason not to kill you."
Wesley's heart pounded as he looked at the deadly metal hovering before his eyes.
But he did not flinch.
Because he knew that flinching meant death.
Moreover, the confidence his boss gave him was far sturdier than these scraps of metal.
"The reason is simple."
Wesley took a document from his briefcase and held it up:
"Detailed intelligence on Trask Industries and the Sentinel Program."
"And an opportunity for Mutants to no longer hide in this icy wilderness, but to stand proudly in the sunlight."
Wesley looked at the high and mighty Mutant emperor, revealing a meaningful smile:
"You wouldn't want to see your kin slaughtered like cattle by those robots, would you?"
"Mr. Lehnsherr."
Chapter 56: You Have Nerve, Human
"Bzzz—!"
Innumerable sharp metal fragments, as if given life,
Hovered just 0.01 centimeters away from Wesley's Adam's apple.
That icy touch, carrying the aura of Death,
Made every hair on Wesley's neck stand on end.
"A threat?"
Magneto remained seated on his throne, forged from melted scrap tanks,
Not rising.
He merely leaned forward slightly, his weather-beaten eyes glinting with a chilling light:
"It has been a long time since anyone in this World dared to stand before me and speak in such a tone."
"The last person who did, the grass on their grave is already taller than you."
Wesley swallowed hard.
His Adam's apple bobbed, nearly grazing the skin against the hovering metal shard.
Cold sweat trickled down his temples, instantly freezing into icy particles in the polar wind.
Afraid?
Of course.
He was just a somewhat clever mortal.
Facing a Mutant leader who could turn him into a pincushion with a flick of a finger,
To say he wasn't about to wet himself would be a lie.
But,
He was more afraid of the man still sunbathing on Long Island in New York.
That man's smile was more despairing than all the metal in this room.
"Hoo..."
Wesley took a deep breath, forcibly steadying his trembling legs.
He adjusted his glasses, forcing a professional smile onto his face.
"No, Mr. Lehnsherr."
"You misunderstand."
Wesley's voice trembled slightly, yet his tone was remarkably firm:
"This is not a threat."
"It is a statement of fact."
He pointed at the ground beneath his feet, then upwards:
"You must have seen the news."
"You must know how Fisk Tower disappeared."
"Just yesterday, it was the most fortified stronghold in New York."
"But now, it's just a still-smoldering crater."
Wesley looked into Magneto's eyes, staking all his luck:
"My boss, Homelander."
"His temper... well, how to put it."
"Isn't always the best."
"If I fail to return on time to report, or if something unfortunate happens to me here,"
"Believe me,"
"The next second, that Heat Vision will descend from the heavens."
"And then, not just you, but every Mutant brother and sister here,"
"Won't even get the chance to turn to ash."
"Vaporized instantly."
"Just like those Extremis Soldiers."
"Outrageous!"
Mystique Raven's expression changed instantly, shifting into a blue, scaled Beast form.
The dagger in her hand flashed coldly as she lunged to slit Wesley's throat.
"Shut your filthy mouth! Human!"
"How dare you spout such nonsense here!"
In the corner, Toad extended his disgusting long tongue, staring venomously at Wesley.
The killing intent was palpable!
Wesley's heart leaped into his throat.
He screamed internally:
"Boss! Save me!"
"The bluff is done, time for the rescue!"
...
At the same moment,
Thousands of kilometers away,
New York, Long Island estate.
Arthur was lying in the massive infinity pool, holding a glass of chilled martini.
Sunlight bathed his perfectly sculpted muscles.
Utterly content.
"Tsk."
Arthur tilted his head slightly, his ears twitching.
His Super Hearing crossed half the globe, clearly capturing every heartbeat in that frigid Base.
Wesley's drum-like heartbeat, that edge-of-collapse fear,
Amused him somewhat.
"This guy's got guts."
Arthur took a sip of his drink, a playful smile curling his lips.
"But..."
"If he really dies, where would I find another dog this useful?"
He slowly raised his head.
His gaze pierced through the clouds, through the atmosphere, locking onto that distant northern coordinate.
Deep in his eyes, two crimson flames flickered faintly.
That terrifying energy fluctuation instantly bridged the spatial distance.
Though he didn't actually fly over,
The wisp of aura he released,
That wisp belonging to Silver Superman, the terrifying pressure capable of crushing everything,
Was projected precisely into that steel Base!
...
Canada, secret Base.
Just as Mystique's dagger was about to pierce Wesley's throat,
An indescribable, terrifying pressure descended without warning!
No sound, no light.
But this pressure was so real it was suffocating!
As if an ancient behemoth was watching coldly from across the endless void.
If they dared move a muscle,
Annihilation would arrive instantly!
"This is..."
Magneto's face instantly changed.
He stood up abruptly, his hands that controlled magnetism trembling slightly.
As a top-tier Mutant, his perception was far sharper than an ordinary human's.
He felt it!
That was the scent of Death!
"Stop!"
Magneto roared.
The countless metal fragments that had been hovering around Wesley,
Lost control in that instant, clattering to the ground.
Mystique, too, was cowed by this aura, halting her charge and looking around in terror.
"Eric?"
"Stand down."
Magneto took a deep breath, a layer of cold sweat beading on his forehead.
He sat back down on his throne, but this time, his composure was gone.
The feeling of being targeted vanished.
But he knew that Sword of Damocles still hung overhead.
"Hoo—"
Wesley felt his legs go weak, nearly collapsing to the floor.
His back was soaked with cold sweat.
But he forced himself to stay upright, even reaching up to adjust his glasses.
Though his hands shook badly.
"It seems..."
Wesley swallowed, his voice hoarse:
"We've reached some kind of understanding?"
Magneto stared intently at this mortal.
Or rather, at the unseen Shadow behind him.
A long moment passed.
He waved a hand, signaling his subordinates to back off.
"You have nerve, human."
Magneto's voice was low:
"Speak."
"That so-called Homelander, that false god humanity has placed on a pedestal."
"Why does he seek me?"
"He already possesses everything."
"Fame, status, power, even the President polishes his shoes."
"Cooperating with a globally-wanted Terrorist like me..."
Magneto sneered, his eyes full of mockery:
"Aren't you afraid he'll dirty his pretty cape?"
This was indeed a question.
In this era where Mutants were hunted,
For a superhero to not capture Magneto but instead seek cooperation,
It was political suicide.
But Wesley smiled.
This time, his smile held a touch of genuine sincerity.
Because he remembered what his boss had said in the office that day.
That arrogance, that disdain.
"Mr. Lehnsherr."
Wesley took out a prepared contract from his briefcase.
It was a letter of intent from the Homelander Group.
"You're right, an ordinary hero would cherish their reputation."
"But my boss doesn't care."
Wesley pushed the contract towards Magneto:
"In his eyes, there are only two kinds of people in this World."
"Those with value, and trash."
"And you, without a doubt, are the former."
"My boss wants to build an unprecedented superhero company."
"He doesn't need boy scouts who only save cats."
"He needs strong individuals like you, possessing absolute power and enough character."
Wesley adjusted his glasses, revealing the dagger hidden in the map:
"The boss said."
"Trask's Sentinel program is a blade hanging over the heads of Mutants."
"And he can help you break that blade."
"In exchange,"
"You need a new stage."
"No longer hiding in dark corners like a rat scurrying in the streets."
"But standing in the spotlight, becoming a—superstar under the Homelander Group banner."
"Turning your 'terror' into 'box office'."
"Turning your 'threat' into 'merchandise'."
"This, is the boss's offer to you."
Magneto looked at the contract.
At the large golden "H" logo on it.
His eyes flickered uncertainly.
It sounded absurd.
Even laughable.
But he remembered the intelligence on the Sentinel robots.
And the soul-shaking terror he felt just moments ago.
Finally,
Magneto's fingers tapped lightly on the armrest.
"A superstar?"
A complex smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Tell your boss."
"This script is somewhat interesting."
Chapter 57: The New Era is Coming
"Click."
The heavy blast door slowly closed.
Shutting out the biting cold wind and the man who was even more chilling.
Wesley had used almost the last ounce of his strength.
Just to keep himself from collapsing into the snow like a heap of mud.
He turned around.
Even in the extreme, sub-thirty-degree blizzard, his back was still soaked through.
It was cold sweat.
"Huff... huff..."
Wesley gasped for breath, white mist rising before his face.
That moment just now.
When those countless sharp metal fragments had hovered right in front of his throat.
He had truly thought he was going to die.
That feeling of suffocation, as if the God of Death himself had him by the throat, that despair of hanging by a thread.
It made him never want to experience it a second time in his life.
"Quick! Take off!"
Wesley stumbled into the helicopter and roared at the pilot:
"Now! Immediately! Get away from this godforsaken place!"
"Yes, sir!"
The pilot, also badly shaken by the terrifying pressure moments before, hurriedly pulled on the controls.
The rotor blades roared.
The black helicopter fled in panic through the snowstorm.
Inside the cabin.
Wesley slumped into the leather seat, his hands trembling as he pulled a bottle of pills from his coat.
He shook out two pills, not even bothering to find water, and swallowed them dry.
They were anti-anxiety medication.
"Gulp."
The pills scraped down his dry throat, bringing a sting of pain.
But Wesley smiled.
A somewhat neurotic, somewhat crazed smile.
"I survived..."
He looked at the snow-capped mountains receding swiftly outside the window and pushed up his glasses, which had slid down his nose.
He clenched his fist, feeling the trembling in his fingertips.
It wasn't from fear.
It was from excitement.
Following a god like that, even if it meant dancing on the edge of a knife, was a supreme honor!
"As long as I'm still useful..."
"As long as I can still work for the boss..."
"I can climb higher than anyone else in this new World!"
...
Meanwhile.
Deep within the iron fortress.
Magneto Erik Lehnsherr still sat upon his cold throne.
His hand gripped the contract stamped with the golden "H" logo.
"Eric..."
Mystique Raven stepped out from the shadows, her yellow eyes filled with worry and confusion:
"Are we really going to agree to that madman's terms?"
"Cooperate with humans?"
"This is like trying to make a deal with a tiger!"
Toad, beside her, jumped forward, his ugly face etched with terror:
"Yeah, boss! That guy in the cloak is too terrifying!"
"Just now, I really thought we were going to be turned into mincemeat!"
"He doesn't even see us as people!"
"Silence!"
Magneto's cold shout cut through his subordinates' clamor.
He slowly stood up, casually tossing the contract onto the table.
His gaze was deep and icy.
"Make a deal with a tiger?"
A self-mocking sneer curled at the corner of Magneto's mouth:
"Raven, you're wrong."
"If it were a tiger, or even a lion, we could fight."
"But that guy..."
Magneto recalled the gaze that had felt like it came from the abyss, his voice low:
"He is a god."
"A god with absolute power and no bottom line."
"Before him, we don't even have the right to negotiate."
Raven fell silent.
Though she didn't want to admit it, the facts were right before her eyes.
In that moment, her proud combat skills and shapeshifting abilities.
Before that kind of absolute power, seemed like a complete joke.
"But..."
Raven still couldn't accept it completely:
"If he's that powerful, why does he need us?"
"If he truly has hostility toward Mutants, like Wesley said..."
"He could have just incinerated this place to ash, like he did with Fisk Tower."
"Why didn't he do that?"
"That's precisely what I'm thinking about."
Magneto turned, his gaze falling on the contract.
That golden "H" looked especially glaring under the dim light.
"He didn't act, not out of mercy."
"Nor out of so-called goodwill."
Magneto understood the mindset of those in power all too well:
"It's simply because..."
"We are still useful to him."
"In his eyes, we are not enemies, nor are we friends."
"We are merely tools."
"Tools that are slightly sharper, useful for putting on a show or for killing."
As he spoke, a glint flashed in Magneto's eyes.
"However..."
"That's enough."
He reached out his hand, and the contract was lifted into the air by his power.
The pages floated mid-air under magnetic force, automatically flipping to the signature page.
"Since he wants to watch a show, we'll perform for him."
"Since he wants to form some kind of superhero company."
"Then we'll use that stage to show the World the power of Mutants."
Magneto looked at Raven, his tone becoming resolute and cold:
"Trask's Sentinel program is already underway."
"It is a disaster of annihilation."
"If we continue hiding in this dark corner, we'll only be picked off one by one, dying like rats."
"But if we join the Homelander Group..."
Magneto sneered:
"Then we stand in the Shadow of a god."
"Even the United States government, even Trask."
"If they want to touch the private property of a deity, they'll have to consider if their necks are strong enough."
Raven was stunned.
She looked at this man before her, filled with ambition and calculation.
It was as if she was seeing the confident, formidable Magneto of years past.
"You mean..."
"Borrow his power?"
"Exactly."
Magneto waved his hand, and a pen instantly flew into his grip.
He signed that famous name on the contract.
The strokes were bold and powerful, the ink piercing the paper.
"He uses us to make money, to gain fame."
"We use him to survive, to grow stronger."
"This is called..."
"Mutual benefit."
Magneto tossed the signed contract to Raven.
"Go and prepare."
"Notify all our brethren still out there."
"Tell them..."
Magneto put on the helmet that blocked telepathy once more, his gaze arrogant and commanding:
"The new era is coming."
"We will step out from the shadows."
"Stand in the spotlight."
"And make those mortals tremble."
Chapter 58: Jean Grey
A few days later.
New York, Homelander Group Headquarters.
Ding.
The doors of the private elevator slowly opened.
Wesley walked out with steps that were still somewhat unsteady.
"Boss."
Wesley quickly walked over to the massive mahogany desk.
With trembling hands, he handed over the document.
"Mission accomplished."
"Erik Lehnsherr, he signed it."
Arthur was leaning back in his executive chair.
Hearing this, he didn't even lift an eyelid.
It was as if all of this was within his expectations.
"I knew it."
Arthur casually took the document and flipped to the last page.
The signature, written with such force it almost pierced the paper, came into view.
"Smart people always know how to make choices."
"Between survival and destruction, only a fool would hesitate."
He casually tossed aside the contract, which would be enough to give S.H.I.E.L.D. Director Nick Fury a heart attack.
Since even Magneto, the toughest nut to crack, had been secured.
The rest was merely a matter of time.
"Well done, Wesley."
Arthur stood up, walked to the liquor cabinet, and personally poured a glass of whisky.
Then, he turned and handed it to Wesley.
"Have a drink."
"This is a reward for a job well done."
Overwhelmed by the favor, Wesley took the glass, his hand shaking so much he nearly spilled the drink.
"Th... Thank you, Boss!"
At this moment, he felt that all the terror he had endured in that icy hell was worth it.
To have a god personally pour him a drink.
He could brag about this for a lifetime!
Arthur looked at Wesley's excited expression, a playful smile curling at the corner of his mouth.
The way to manage subordinates is to use both kindness and authority.
Since the stick had already been applied, it was only right to offer a carrot.
"Since Magneto is settled."
"Then next, it's time to meet our second member."
Arthur turned and looked out the floor-to-ceiling window at the bustling city.
But with his Super Vision.
What he saw was a lush, green estate several hundred kilometers away.
Xaviers School for Gifted Youngsters.
And the woman with red hair who harbored a power within her capable of destroying the Universe.
Jean Grey.
"Boss, you mean..."
Wesley took a large gulp of whisky, and his brain started working again.
He carefully took out the list.
"We're going to find Phoenix?"
"Exactly."
Arthur turned around.
"Jean Grey."
"She is perfect."
"Whether it's that power capable of tearing atoms apart, or that face that one can't forget after a single glance."
Arthur licked his lips.
Although he was now a Silver Superman.
His thirst for power had never ceased.
The Phoenix Force.
That is one of the top-tier powers in the Marvel Universe.
If he could hold such an existence in his hands...
Or rather, if he could make her his possession.
That kind of sense of achievement would definitely be ten thousand times stronger than simple slaughter.
"Moreover."
Arthur pointed to the photo on the list, his tone becoming somewhat playful:
"Don't you think this team full of male hormones needs a thorny red rose for decoration?"
"A team of only old men and freaks won't be able to sell merchandise."
"We need looks, we need topics, we need a goddess."
Wesley pushed up his glasses.
Looking at the beautiful red-haired woman in the photo, he understood the boss's thoughts in his heart.
This was the boss.
He didn't just want the strongest, he wanted the most beautiful too.
Greedy and unapologetic about it.
"But, Boss."
Wesley hesitated for a moment, but still voiced his concern:
"Jean Grey is at Xaviers School for Gifted Youngsters."
"That is Charles Xavier's, or Professor X's, territory."
"It's said that the Professor possesses the most powerful telepathic ability in the World."
"I'm worried..."
Wesley pointed to his own head:
"Before I even step through the front door, all the secrets in my head will be seen through by him."
"I might even be controlled by him and turned into a drooling idiot."
Facing Magneto's kind of physical attacks, Wesley could still grit his teeth and go in.
But facing Professor X's kind of unavoidable mental attacks.
He was truly a bit nervous.
After all, he was just an ordinary human.
"Don't worry."
Arthur walked up to Wesley, reached out, and gently patted his shoulder.
Buzz!
A faint but extremely overbearing Bio-electric Field instantly covered Wesley's entire body.
It was a spiritual protection from the Silver Superman.
Although he didn't know magic, this kind of mental barrier based on absolute power was enough to give that old bald head Charles a cold shoulder.
"I have already given you my protection."
Arthur looked at Wesley, his gaze disdainful:
"Just go there openly."
"Tell Charles."
"I'm there to talk business, not to wage war."
Feeling that faint layer of warmth on his body, the fear in Wesley's heart instantly dissipated by more than half.
With the boss's words, what else did he have to fear?
Even facing that legendary master of the mind.
He felt he could stand tall and speak with a straight back!
"Understood, Boss!"
Wesley drained the glass in one gulp, his gaze becoming sharp again.
"I'll set off right now."
"To Westchester!"
...
Two hours later.
Westchester County, New York State.
A black stretch Lincoln slowly pulled up in front of the gate of a massive estate.
On the ornate iron gate hung an inconspicuous sign.
[Xaviers School for Gifted Youngsters]
Wesley pushed open the car door and straightened his expensive suit.
He looked up at the castle-like building, which was full of British style.
He took a deep breath.
This place was a haven for Mutants.
And the headquarters of the X-Men.
But he wasn't here today to seek an education, nor was he here to invade.
He was here to poach talent.
And he was going to poach the most precious student in this school right in front of the principal.
"Phew—"
Wesley exhaled a breath of turbid air, his face wearing that standard professional fake smile of a Homelander Group executive.
He walked to the intercom by the gate and pressed the button.
"Hello."
"I am James Wesley, representing the Homelander Group. I would like to see Professor Xavier."
"And..."
"Miss Jean Grey."
Chapter 59: A Wise Choice
Xaviers School for Gifted Youngsters, Headmaster's Office.
The air was filled with a faint aroma of black tea, and...
The smell of gunpowder from a tense standoff.
"Homelander Group?"
Cyclops, Scott Summers, stood by the desk, his hand pressing against his specialized ruby-quartz glasses.
Those eyes hidden behind the lenses were full of wariness and hostility:
"This is a school, not a circus."
"And we don't welcome the lackeys of those so-called superheroes who only know how to put on a show."
Wesley ignored this barking watchdog.
He didn't even spare Scott a single glance.
He simply sat elegantly on the leather sofa, adjusting the glasses on the bridge of his nose.
His gaze looked directly at the kind-looking, bald old man sitting in the wheelchair.
Charles Xavier.
Better known as Professor X.
"Professor Xavier."
Wesley's voice was steady, with a touch of appropriate respect.
But it was more of an arrogance born from confidence:
"I thought that in this World full of discrimination and prejudice."
"You would understand the importance of politeness and assessing the situation better than your students."
Charles frowned slightly.
Those wise blue eyes stared deeply at the ordinary man before him.
As the most powerful telepath in the World.
The moment Wesley walked through the door, he had habitually released his mental tentacles.
He wanted to see what was going on inside the mind of this ordinary person who had visited so suddenly.
However.
Just as his mental feelers were about to touch Wesley's cerebral cortex.
Buzz—!!!
A terrifying, overbearing mental storm filled with the aura of destruction bounced back without warning!
That wasn't Wesley's mental power.
That was...
A barrier.
An indestructible Bio-electric Field barrier that seemed to be forged from the core of a star!
"Ugh!"
Charles let out a muffled groan, his face turning pale instantly.
He felt as if his brain had been struck hard by a red-hot iron hammer.
That shudder from the depths of his soul made his fingers grip the wheelchair armrests and tremble violently.
"Professor!"
The red-haired girl who had been silent all along.
Jean Grey, immediately sensed this mental shock.
She exclaimed and quickly supported Charles.
"What... was that?"
Jean looked at Wesley in horror.
Or rather, looking at that invisible but terrifying aura on Wesley that was enough to burn the soul.
"Apologies, Professor."
An amiable smile appeared on Wesley's face:
"My boss, Mr. Homelander."
"He is a person who values privacy very much."
"He doesn't quite like people rummaging around in his employees' heads."
"So, he left a small gift on me."
"I hope it didn't hurt you."
Charles took a deep breath, forcibly suppressing the sharp pain in his mind.
He looked up, his eyes no longer possessing their previous composure, replaced by deep wariness.
Just a lingering aura could backfire on an Alpha-level mutant like him?
That so-called Homelander...
Just who on earth is he?!
"It's fine, it was my intrusion."
Charles waved his hand, signaling Scott to step down.
He knew that the man before him represented a power they could not contend with.
"Speak, Mr. Wesley."
"What does that... Homelander want from us?"
Wesley smiled.
That's more like it.
This is the right to speak brought by power.
He took the prepared contract out of his briefcase and gently pushed it onto the desk.
"It's simple."
"My boss is forming a team called 'The Seven'."
"He needs the best members."
"And your student, Miss Jean Grey."
Wesley turned his head, his eyes burning as he looked at the beautiful red-haired girl:
"She perfectly fits our boss's aesthetic... oh no, selection criteria."
"We want to sign her."
"Impossible!"
Before Jean could speak, Scott exploded:
"Jean is not a commodity! She won't go be a foil for that guy who puts on a show on TV!"
"Putting on a show?"
Wesley sneered.
He ignored Scott's impotent rage and pulled another document from his briefcase.
It was the contract Magneto had just signed.
Slap!
Wesley slammed the document with Erik Lehnsherr's signature heavily onto the desk.
"Take a look at this, Professor."
"I believe you should recognize this handwriting."
Charles's gaze fell on the signature, and his pupils contracted instantly.
That familiar, wild signature that pressed through the paper.
Eric?!
"Magneto has already joined us."
Wesley's voice rose slightly, carrying an unquestionable sense of pressure:
"Even that arrogant leader of the Brotherhood chose to submit."
"Do you still think this is just putting on a show?"
"Trask Industries' Sentinel Program is already on its way."
"That is a butcher's knife intended to wipe out all Mutants."
"And my boss, Homelander."
"He is the only one who can break that knife."
Wesley stood up, hands leaning on the desk, his gaze sweeping over everyone present:
"We are giving Mutants a chance."
"A chance to crawl out of the gutter, stand in the sunlight, and become respected heroes."
"Or..."
"Would you rather wait in this so-called school for those robots to level this place to the ground?"
The entire office fell into a dead silence.
Charles looked at the contract, his hands trembling slightly.
Even Eric compromised?
That man who wouldn't bow his head even when facing the whole World actually bowed to Homelander?
What does this mean?
This means Homelander's power is already strong enough to make even Magneto feel despair!
"I'll join."
A cool voice broke the silence.
Jean Grey stepped out from behind Charles.
She looked at Wesley, her beautiful eyes flickering with complex light.
She could feel it.
The power that had just backfired on the Professor.
That pure, domineering, terrifying energy that seemed to suppress everything.
That was what she had been looking for.
Perhaps, only such a powerful existence.
Could suppress the thing inside her that was becoming more and more restless.
"Jean!" Scott said anxiously.
"Scott, that's enough."
Jean shook her head, her gaze firm:
"If that man is truly as powerful as he says."
"If he really can protect everyone from the Sentinel's harm..."
"Then I am willing to go."
She walked to the desk and picked up the contract.
"And..."
A hint of curiosity flashed in Jean's eyes:
"I also really want to see."
"What that man you call a god actually looks like in reality."
The smile on Wesley's face bloomed instantly.
It was the relief of completing a task, and the smugness of successfully riding on someone else's coattails.
"A wise choice, Miss Grey."
"Believe me, you definitely won't regret it."
"Because..."
Wesley straightened his suit, his tone filled with fanatical admiration:
"The moment you meet him."
"You will understand."
"What a true—god among men really is."
Chapter 60: Go Find Logan
At Xaviers School for Gifted Youngsters, the heavy oak doors slowly closed.
It completely shut out the angry yet powerless roar of Cyclops Scott behind them.
"Take good care of her, Mr. Wesley."
These were the last words Charles Xavier said before they parted.
The once high-spirited, wise old man who had tried to lead Mutants toward the light.
Now sitting in his wheelchair, he seemed to have aged ten years in an instant.
He watched Jean's back, his eyes filled with helplessness and worry.
But he had no choice.
In the face of absolute power, so-called idealism was as fragile as a thin sheet of paper.
Wesley bowed elegantly, a victor's smile on his face:
"Rest assured, Professor."
"At the Homelander Group, Miss Grey will receive the protection of a god."
"It's much safer than hiding in this ivory tower."
After speaking.
He opened the door of the Stretch Lincoln and made a 'please' gesture.
Jean Grey took a deep breath.
She looked back at the school where she had lived for many years.
She looked at Scott behind the window, whose eyes were filled with concern despite his anger.
Then.
She sat into the car with resolute determination.
From this moment on.
She was no longer one of the X-Men.
She was a Reserve Member of the Homelander Group.
...
Midtown Manhattan, New York.
Homelander Group Building.
Top floor, CEO's office.
In front of a massive floor-to-ceiling window.
John Arthur wore a deep blue combat suit, a red cape draped casually over his shoulders.
He swirled a glass of crimson wine in his hand, his eyes indifferently overlooking the masses below.
*Ding.*
The doors of the private elevator opened.
Wesley walked in with Jean Grey.
"Boss."
Wesley's voice carried the joy of someone seeking credit:
"I've brought her."
John Arthur slowly turned around.
Those azure eyes instantly locked onto the Red-haired Girl standing at the door, looking somewhat ill at ease.
Jean Grey.
Host of the Phoenix Force.
One of the top-tier powerhouses in the Marvel Universe.
But at this moment.
Under Arthur's Super Vision.
She was like a startled little white rabbit, her entire body tense.
That terrifying energy hidden within her, capable of destroying the Universe, was stirring restlessly.
"Welcome."
Arthur set down his wine glass and walked over step by step with his long legs.
With every step.
The pressure in the air grew more intense.
"Miss Jean Grey."
Arthur walked up to Jean and looked down at her.
On that overly handsome face hung his signature aggressive smile:
"I've been watching you for a long time."
Jean looked up and met those eyes that seemed to burn with fire.
*Boom!*
At the exact moment their gazes met.
The Phoenix Force inside Jean seemed to sense a provocation and suddenly erupted with a violent mental surge!
The glass in the office vibrated instantly!
Documents on the desk moved without wind, and the wine glass shattered outright!
"Watch out!"
Wesley was so scared he scrambled to hide behind the sofa.
However.
Arthur didn't even blink.
He just slightly raised an eyebrow.
Hum—!!!
An even more terrifying, more domineering Bio-electric Field, like a collapsing star, instantly erupted from his body!
In front of this power.
The Phoenix Force that had just reared its head inside Jean was like being seized by the throat by an invisible giant hand.
It was instantly suppressed back into her body!
All the anomalies came to a screeching halt at this moment.
The wind stopped.
The glass stopped shaking.
Even the dust floating in the air became still.
Jean's eyes widened, her pupils shrinking violently.
She looked at the man in front of her in horror.
In that moment just now.
She felt like she wasn't facing a person.
But a Sun!
A tyrannical Sun that was wantonly releasing infinite light and heat!
"Is this the power of a god?"
Jean's legs felt a bit weak.
Her Telekinesis, which she took pride in, was as powerless as a baby's cry before this man.
"Shh."
Arthur extended a finger and gently pressed it against Jean's trembling lips.
The movement was gentle, yet brook no refusal.
"Control your emotions, beautiful lady."
Arthur leaned in closer, his warm breath hitting Jean's face:
"While I appreciate that power inside you."
"This is my office."
"I don't want to see my carpet get dirty."
"Understand?"
Jean nodded subconsciously, her eyes full of submission and awe.
"I... I understand."
Arthur smiled with satisfaction.
He withdrew his hand, and that suffocating pressure vanished instantly, replaced by a warmth like a spring breeze.
"That's more like it."
Arthur turned, took a fresh glass from the wine cabinet, poured a drink, and handed it to Jean.
"Have a drink to calm your nerves."
"From today on, you are a member of The Seven."
"Here, you don't need to suppress yourself, and you don't need to fear hurting others."
Arthur spread his arms, showing off the luxurious office and the vast World outside the window:
"Because I am here."
"No power can go out of control in my presence."
"You can release as much as you want, and show off your beauty to your heart's content."
Jean took the glass, looking at the swirling red wine, then at the man full of confidence and dominance.
An unprecedented sense of security surged in her heart.
At the X-Mansion, she was a dangerous item to be guarded against; everyone was cautious.
But here.
In front of this man.
She was just a subordinate who needed guidance.
This feeling of being completely controlled actually gave her a strange sense of peace.
"Yes, Boss."
Jean lowered her head and spoke softly.
The smile on Arthur's lips deepened.
Very good.
Another one settled.
This feeling of collecting powerful action figures was truly addictive.
"Wesley."
Arthur glanced at his Sycophantic Advisor hiding behind the sofa.
"Come out, stop embarrassing yourself."
Wesley awkwardly straightened his suit and climbed up from behind the sofa.
"Boss, about that..."
"Since Jean has joined, take her to get settled."
Arthur waved his hand:
"Arrange the best apartment for her, and the best stylists."
"I want her to stun the whole World when she makes her first appearance."
"Understood!" Wesley nodded repeatedly.
"Also..."
Arthur walked to the window, looking at the sunset outside.
A hint of amusement flashed in his eyes:
"Now that the red rose is in hand."
"Next, it's time to go find that Beast."
He turned his head to look at Wesley:
"Wolverine, Logan."
"Have you found out where he is?"
Wesley immediately pulled out a tablet and brought up an intelligence report:
"Found him, Boss."
"According to the intelligence network, he's currently in a small town bar on the Canadian border."
"Supposedly he's been drinking there for a week and has injured over a dozen thugs who tried to pick a fight."
"Good."
Arthur nodded.
"Then let's head out."
"I don't need to teach you what to do this time, do I?"
Wesley pushed up his glasses, a confident smile appearing on his face:
"Don't worry, Boss."
"I know how to deal with an old drunk like that."
"I'll bring the best cigars, and..."
Wesley pointed to a contract with a golden 'H' logo:
"An offer he can't refuse."
Arthur laughed.
"Go then."
"Tell him."
"As long as he follows me."
"Every drop of alcohol he drinks in the future will be World-class."
"And..."
A red light flashed in Arthur's eyes:
"I can make that damn, long, pain-filled life of his."
"Become a little bit more interesting."
Chapter 61: Logan Joins
Canada, a town in the Northern Territory.
In this godforsaken place where the cold could freeze the marrow in your bones.
The only thing that could make a person feel alive was the "Iron Anchor" bar with its tattered sign.
The bar was filled with the stench of old men's sweat and the pungency of cheap cigars.
And that nauseating smell of cheap whiskey unique to such frigid regions.
The man sitting in the corner of the bar wore a greasy brown leather jacket, his hair as messy as a bird's nest that hadn't been tidied in ten years.
His weary stubble was stained with the scent of alcohol, and his eyes held a World-weary look that said, "The whole World owes me five million."
He was Logan, though most people called him—Wolverine.
"Hey, pal. You've already had three bottles and haven't paid yet."
The bartender was a burly man with a face full of scars; he wiped a glass while staring at the back of Logan's head with an extremely malicious gaze.
Logan didn't even look up, just stared into his empty glass, his voice low and raspy like sandpaper: "Put it on that dead bastard's tab."
"There are no dead bastards here, only poor bastards about to be beaten to death," the bartender sneered, setting down the glass.
As he spoke, several burly men in the bar, dressed like lumberjacks but with bulging waistlines, stood up one after another.
Logan took a deep breath; his nose, capable of smelling an elk in heat kilometers away, now caught the strong scent of gunpowder.
Not just gunpowder, but also a rot-like stench. That was...
"Stryker's people?"
Logan finally turned his head, a flash of violent red light appearing in his eyes.
"Logan, the General wants to invite you back for tea." The lead man pulled a large-caliber pistol from his coat, the barrel almost poking Logan's nose.
Logan split his lips, revealing a truly gruesome smile: "I'd rather treat you all to some meat."
Clang!
Accompanied by the crisp sound of metal friction, six gleaming adamantium claws suddenly popped out from between Logan's knuckles.
The atmosphere in the bar instantly dropped to absolute zero.
"What the fuck? What is that thing!" A bystander's cry hadn't even left his mouth.
Bang!
Logan had already moved.
He was like a fierce tiger descending a mountain, his entire body turning into an afterimage. The pistol pointing at his nose, along with the arm holding it, was sliced into four neat sections in an instant.
"Aaaah!!!"
The scream instantly tore through the dullness of the bar.
Before the rampaging Beast, these professionally trained Agents were as flimsy as paper.
Logan swung his steel claws haphazardly, each strike bringing up a large mist of blood.
For a moment, booze and blood flew together, and this cheap bar fast-forwarded directly into a horror movie scene.
However, just as Logan was about to snap the lead man's neck, a heart-stopping sense of pressure swept in from the bar entrance without warning.
That feeling was like a lone wolf tearing at its prey in the jungle suddenly being stared down by a prehistoric Tyrannosaurus Rex.
The hair all over Logan's body stood on end. He spun around, steel claws protecting his chest, a low Beast-like growl emanating from his throat.
The creaking wooden door of the bar was pushed open.
Cold wind swirled in with snowflakes, but strangely, as those snowflakes approached the figure at the door...
They seemed to hit an invisible barrier and silently melted away.
A man wearing a sharp suit and thin-framed glasses walked in.
The briefcase in his hand was spotless, looking completely out of place in this filthy bar.
Behind him followed a beautiful girl with red hair and eyes as deep as the starry sky.
"Mr. Logan, the air in here is truly terrible."
James Wesley pushed up his glasses, fanning away the smell of blood in front of him with distaste.
He wore that kind of professional fake smile that made one want to punch him.
"Who are you?" Logan stared at Wesley, then turned his gaze to the red-haired girl. His intuition told him the girl was more dangerous. "Stryker's new pet?"
"Don't insult my boss with such trash, Mr. Logan."
Wesley smiled and pointed at the ceiling, his tone full of the superiority of one riding on someone else's coattails.
"My boss is Homelander. You should have seen him on the news—the man who is busier than God."
Jean Grey looked at Logan expressionlessly; she could feel the frantic vitality and restlessness within this man.
"Do I need to clear up the trouble here?" Jean asked softly, her voice as cold as ice.
"There's no need to trouble Miss Grey with such a small matter," Wesley waved his hand.
At that moment, those few Agents who weren't quite dead yet actually had the gall to raise their guns to ambush Wesley.
"Damn it, where did this pretty boy come from!"
Rat-tat-tat!
Tongues of fire spat out as bullets swept toward Wesley in a fan pattern.
Logan's pupils constricted. He was about to shout a warning but saw the most reality-shattering scene of his life.
Those bullets, enough to turn a man into a sieve, hit an invisible, incredibly solid wall half a meter away from Wesley.
Clang, clang, clang!
The bullet heads deformed and fell, bouncing on the wooden floor without even touching the edge of Wesley's suit.
Wesley didn't even blink. He straightened his tie, feeling a secret thrill in his heart:
The Bio-electric Field protection the boss gave is just too top-tier! Wearing the sharpest suit and acting like the biggest badass—who else understands this feeling!
Jean Grey frowned and slowly raised her hand, palm facing outward.
"Quiet."
Vroom—!!!
An invisible wave of telekinetic power instantly exploded!
Not just those Agents, but every metal object in the bar that didn't belong to the building itself twisted and shattered in that instant.
The burly men let out terrified muffled groans as they were slammed directly against the walls, unable to move, like meat patty specimens pinned to a wall.
Logan's eyes twitched. He could feel the energy contained within that girl; it was a terrifying power capable of wiping this entire town off the map.
"What do you people want?" Logan retracted his steel claws. He knew that against such power, physical combat was meaningless.
Wesley unhurriedly pulled an exquisite aluminum tube from his coat.
Click.
He opened the cap, took out a top-tier cigar from Cuba worth thousands of dollars, and held it out to Logan.
"The boss said he admires your endurance."
Wesley gave a "kindly" smile, his tone full of temptation.
"The World is changing, Logan. Hiding here drinking this horse-piss-diluted whiskey is not only a waste of your time but also a waste of those beautiful Adamantium bones."
He took a contract stamped with a golden letter "H" from his briefcase and slapped it onto the bar.
"The boss intends to form the World's most powerful team. He's already picked a name: 'The Seven'."
Wesley paused, his eyes burning:
"As long as you sign, every drop of alcohol you drink will be World-class. Every cigar you smoke will be personally shipped back from the source by the boss."
"Most importantly..."
Wesley leaned in closer, his voice very low, carrying a magic that seemed to control everything:
"The boss can help you completely resolve the nightmares that have haunted you for a century. Whether it's Stryker or that so-called Mutant hatred."
Logan took the cigar and sniffed it.
The scent was indeed much more fragrant than the bits of tobacco in his pocket.
"And if I don't sign?" Logan asked, squinting.
Jean Grey stepped forward, her red hair moving without wind. The surrounding floorboards began to slightly carbonize due to the overflow of the Phoenix Force.
"The boss said..."
Wesley's tone became gentle again, but the content of his words sent a chill down Logan's spine.
"If you refuse, he will come to invite you personally. At that time, he might choose to use 'physical methods' to make you understand that in this era, no one says 'no' to Superman."
Logan fell silent.
He thought of the man he had seen on the news six months ago.
That monster who held a nuclear bomb with one hand ten thousand meters in the air while smiling brightly for the cameras.
That heat vision that shattered buildings... even his healing factor probably couldn't maintain its shape under that temperature.
"Tsk, threats from a pretty boy."
Logan spat, grabbed the pen on the bar, and scribbled his name on the contract.
"Tell the guy in the blue suit. I can be his muscle, but if he dares to make me wear those tights..."
Logan shook his fist, his adamantium claws flashing with a cold light again, "I'll cut his balls off myself."
Wesley laughed loudly and tucked away the contract.
"The boss will like your sense of humor, Mr. Logan."
Wesley turned toward the door. Before stepping into the wind and snow, he threw a sentence back without looking:
"Tomorrow morning, a Stark Industries private jet will come to pick you up. Remember to take a shower; the boss can't stand that old man stench on you."
Jean Grey gave Logan a deep look, a hint of curiosity flashing in her eyes, before she also vanished into the vast snow.
Logan lit the cigar.
The spicy and pure tobacco flavor exploded in his lungs, giving him a long-lost sense of peace.
"What the fuck..."
Logan looked at the severed limbs and broken arms all over the floor and sighed deeply. "The Worldreally has changed."
Chapter 62: Homelander Group Opens for Business!
Manhattan, New York.
The skyscraper that once belonged to some unlucky conglomerate had now been completely transformed.
Atop the roof, reinforced entirely with tempered glass and Vibranium alloy, a massive holographic sign pulsed brazenly in the night.
"Homelander CORP".
Those golden letters dazzled the eyes of New York's poor below and sent a shiver through the hearts of the politicians in the White House.
Inside the top-floor CEO's office.
The air was thick with an extremely discordant atmosphere.
James Howlett—also known as Logan, the man who carried the scent of cheap tobacco wherever he went.
He was currently lounging casually on an Italian handmade sofa worth three hundred thousand dollars.
He had a top-tier Cuban cigar brought by Wesley dangling from his mouth, his calloused feet resting unceremoniously on the crystal coffee table.
"Tch, this smoke is definitely more kickin' than the shredded leaves I used to puff."
Logan exhaled a thick cloud of smoke, his Beast-like eyes scanning the room before finally settling on the back of the figure in a deep blue suit by the window.
He was annoyed.
Extremely annoyed.
As a veteran who had crawled through battlefields for a century, he instinctively loathed this kind of office building filled with elite vibes.
But he hated the man with his back turned even more—the one radiating an aura more dazzling than the Sun.
It was the absolute suppression of a top predator over a secondary one in the food chain.
On the other end of the sofa.
Erik Lehnsherr, also known as Magneto, the man who was a nightmare for Agents across America.
He had already swapped his dusty combat gear for a perfectly tailored dark gray suit.
He held a wine glass elegantly, and with a slight flick of his finger.
Several metal stirring rods nearby darted through the air like swimming fish, weaving into complex geometric patterns.
Calculations that no one could decipher were hidden in the old fox's deep eyes.
"Erik, put away your cheap parlor tricks."
Logan snorted, a cold glint of steel claws peeking through his knuckles. "There are no tin cans for you to control here."
"Logan, rudeness is the passport of the weak."
Magneto took a sip of red wine, his gaze contemptuous. "If you want a fight, I don't mind kneading those Adamantium bones of yours into a solid lead ball."
Jean Grey sat to the side.
Her head was bowed, her red hair cascading over her shoulders.
The Phoenix Force within her was stirring slightly as it sensed these two restless souls.
But whenever that destructive energy tried to rear its head.
The aura of the man by the window would act like a pair of invisible giant hands, instantly pressing it back into the abyss.
Jean looked up at that back, a trace of dependence and awe flashing in her eyes.
Here, she didn't need to suppress herself.
Because nothing could spiral out of control in front of this man.
"Boss."
Wesley pushed the door open, holding a final proposal in his hand, fine beads of sweat on his forehead.
He first gave an awkward but polite smile toward Logan's feet, which were nearly in the center of the coffee table.
Then he walked quickly behind Arthur.
"The paperwork, the media, and the venue are all ready."
Wesley lowered his voice, his tone carrying the fervor of an executor:
"Jameson from the Daily Bugle has gone mad; he's cleared out the entire front page for tomorrow."
"The broadcasting rights for two hundred major global media outlets have sold for astronomical prices."
"Current polls show that ninety-five percent of America is looking forward to your'surprise'."
Arthur slowly turned around.
His blonde hair shone brilliantly under the soft indoor lighting.
He looked at these three "employees"—distinct in form yet capable of sweeping through half the Earth's military force—and a kindly smile curled on his lips.
"Damn, what a lineup."
"Magneto as the planner, Logan as the tank, and Jean as the main carry. Plus me, a Silver Age Superman, as the backing."
"How is this a superhero team? This is clearly a 'Planet Earth Bulldozer'."
Arthur felt a secret thrill.
The feeling of collecting top-tier "action figures" and having them sit in a row was even more pleasurable than torturing Kingpin to Death.
"Very good."
Arthur walked over to Logan, casually picked up the box of cigars worth thousands of dollars each, and tossed another one over.
"Logan, at tomorrow's press conference, I need you to drop that 'the whole World owes you money' look."
"I'll arrange an 'unrestrained tough guy' persona for you."
"As long as you cooperate, I'll cover your future cigars. If you dare to mess it up..."
Arthur lowered his head slightly, and in an instant, two crimson flames ignited in his eyes.
The terrifying heat caused the surrounding air to hiss and distort.
Logan froze mid-puff.
In that moment, he smelled the scent of Death.
It was a heat that even his healing factor felt despair toward.
"Tch, I get it, Boss."
Logan spat and pulled back his legs somewhat uncomfortably.
Even a tough guy is afraid of being burned, especially by a fire that could burn through a planet.
Arthur then looked at Magneto.
"Erik, you're a smart man."
"I want you to be the leader of the Mutants, but it must be a leader standing under the Homelanderbanner."
"I want the World to see that Mutants are no longer a threat, but the upholders of American order."
"Every one of your magnetic pulses must bring traffic to the company, understand?"
Magneto swirled his wine glass, his eyes flickering before he gave a slight bow.
"Of course, Boss. To each their own needs—that is the most stable contract."
He knew very well in his heart.
Only by following this man could Mutants truly step out of the shadows.
Even as an appendage, it was ten thousand times better than being sliced up by those Sentinels.
"Jean."
Arthur walked over to the red-haired girl, his tone softening a bit as he even reached out to tidy a strand of her hair.
"Tomorrow, you only need to display your beauty and the power that is enough to make mortals tremble in awe."
"I will protect you and not let that thing hurt you."
Jean nodded heavily, a red light flashing briefly in her eyes as they became incredibly determined.
"Finally, Wesley."
Arthur turned to look at his chief strategist.
"Tell the World."
"At ten o'clock tomorrow morning, the Homelander Group officially opens for business."
"With this move, I'm going to scare those old geezers in high positions so much their dentures will fall out!"
...
The next day.
The air in all of America seemed to have frozen.
The giant display screens on the streets, the radios in every taxi, and even the phone screens of every phubber.
All were dominated by the same large golden logo.
"Homelander CORP: A New Era of Justice".
Below the Daily Bugle Building.
Eddie Brock carried his Hasselblad camera, the muscles on his face twitching from over-excitement.
"Quick! Quick! Get all the broadcasting vans in position!"
"This is a miracle! This is the greatest assembly in human history!"
Eddie roared into the microphone.
At that moment.
On the plaza in front of the Homelander Group Building.
It was already a sea of people, so crowded that not even a fly could squeeze in.
Hundreds of thousands of citizens frantically waved the Stars and Stripes.
They shouted the same name.
"Homelander!"
"Homelander!"
Amidst the mountain-shaking, ocean-roaring waves of sound.
At the edge of the helipad on the top floor of the building, four figures slowly appeared in the sunlight.
This scene was captured with precision by every camera across the globe.
The first figure.
Naturally, it was the man wearing the Stars and Stripes cape with a golden "A" on his chest.
He hovered in mid-air, the sunlight plating him with a holy golden edge.
He slightly spread his arms, revealing that kindly Homelander smile capable of melting any iceberg.
And behind him.
Magneto Erik, in a sharp dark gray suit, stood with his hands behind his back, his gaze disdainful.
That domineering aura of a superior made people feel a pang of heart palpitations even through the screen.
Next.
Logan.
He wasn't wearing that ridiculous yellow and blue spandex (which the protagonist had strictly forbidden).
Instead, he wore black tactical leather armor, a cigar in his mouth, his gaze wild and unruly.
Those alloy steel claws, shimmering with a cold light, reflected a chilling glint in the Sun.
Finally.
Jean Grey.
She wore a dark red tight-fitting long dress, her red hair like fire, adding a sense of destructive beauty to that holy atmosphere.
The entire venue fell silent.
A deathly silence.
New York citizens were stunned.
The politicians in Washington were stunned.
Inside S.H.I.E.L.D., Nick Fury's black face had turned completely purple.
He slammed his hand down, shattering the computer screen in front of him, his single eye nearly bulging out of its socket.
"What the... fuck?!"
"Magneto? Wolverine? Jean Grey?"
"This guy actually assembled all these monsters together?!"
The Black Braised Egg felt like he was about to have a heart attack.
He had put in immense effort to form an "Avengers" team, barely managing to recruit a few troubled youths.
Yet as soon as Homelander made a move.
He directly signed all the top-tier stars of the Mutant World?
Is this starting a company? This is freaking forming a Divine Military Commission!
Meanwhile.
Inside Stark Tower.
Tony Stark was holding a glass of chlorophyll juice, watching the live broadcast on TV.
"Pffft—!!!"
A mouthful of green juice sprayed directly onto the faceplate of the mark 42.
"Jarvis... tell me this is a holographic projection."
"Sir, according to spectral analysis, that is a live shot. And... that old bastard Magneto looks a bit more handsome in a suit than you."
"Shut up!"
Tony rubbed his temples, his mouth twitching wildly. "That jerk John... with this move, he's practically flown to Pluto's orbit to show off."
At the press conference site.
Arthur looked at the crowd of reporters and citizens below with their jaws dropped, and his heart blossomed with joy.
"Sweet!"
"So sweet!"
"The popularity points are pouring in like a tsunami; how many Silver-level evolutions is this going to be?"
[Ding! Extreme shock detected on a global scale! popularity points are skyrocketing!]
[Ding! popularity points +1,000,000!]
[Ding! popularity points +1,500,000...]
Arthur felt the power within him surging and strengthening like an overturning sea.
He knew this was just the beginning.
He cleared his throat, and through the specially made amplification equipment, his voice spread throughout the entire city.
"Ladies and gentlemen."
Arthur's smile became even more holy and approachable:
"I know you are surprised, perhaps even afraid."
"You see Erik, you see Logan, you see Jean."
"In your past understanding, they might have been 'outcasts' or 'threats'."
Arthur paused, his tone becoming incredibly stirring:
"But from today onward, under the banner of the Homelander Group!"
"They have only one identity—and that is the heroes who protect America and protect the Earth!"
"Heroes should not be marginalized, nor should they be smeared by conspirators hiding in the sewers!"
"I, Homelander, on behalf of the company, declare!"
Arthur pointed to the three people behind him and announced loudly:
"These are our first members, the forerunners of 'The Seven'!"
"But that is not enough!"
Arthur's gaze pierced through the lens, as if looking into every corner of the globe:
"Here, I extend an olive branch to all heroes across America and the World who harbor dreams and possess extraordinary power!"
"If you no longer want to hide!"
"If you want your power to receive the respect and reward it deserves!"
"If you want to become a role model in the eyes of children and a guardian in the eyes of the people!"
"Then!"
Arthur spread his arms, the red cape behind him snapping in the wind like the wings of God:
"The doors of the Homelander Group will always be open to you!"
"As long as you have a heart of justice and the will to serve your country!"
"Here, you are a hero!"
"Here, you are a legend!"
"Heroes of America, come join us!"
"Let us write a new era together!"
The final roar.
Completely ignited the entire venue!
"Hero! Hero! Hero!"
The people went wild.
They no longer cared about how many bridges Magneto had blown up in the past.
They only saw that under Homelander's leadership, these monsters had become orderly and dazzling.
This is the logic brought by power.
Might is right, and justice is defined by the victor.
Looking at the popularity points panel where the numbers were jumping almost like afterimages.
Arthur lowered his head slightly.
Facing the camera, he revealed a standard, flawless, and extremely kindly Homelander smile.
"Come on, little leeks."
"Get into the bowl."
"Once I've recruited all of you, this World will truly and completely be named 'John'."
In a dark Base far away in Sokovia.
A pair of young twins were huddled in an iron cage.
The silver-haired boy, Pietro, looked at the towering figure on the screen, a trace of longing flashing in his eyes.
"Wanda... look at him, he looks... like a good person."
The red-clad girl, Wanda, bit her lip hard, the red Chaos Magic in her eyes flickering slightly.
"If we could go there too..."
"Would we not have to be monsters here anymore?"
And in a rift of another parallel dimension.
That Exile clad in a black robe was coldly watching all of this.
His fingertips tapped on the void, letting out a piercing, cold laugh.
"Assembling, are we?"
"Very well, John Arthur."
"Filling a basket with eggs... it only makes it more interesting when they are crushed."
The Sun in New York was still scorching.
But under Homelander's dazzling cape.
The entire World was trembling with cheers.