Herman's first move after taking over the Fate Assassins "new company" was to inject a job into his firm: have Cross kill Justin Hammer, that foul-mouthed loudmouth who loved trash-talking people online.
Over the past few days Justin Hammer had repeatedly insulted Herman on the internet. Now it was time for Justin Hammer to pay for his filthy mouth.
Herman wasn't Homelander.
He wouldn't fly across the world just to kill someone over a few insults, but that didn't mean he wouldn't hire the right people to take out Justin Hammer.
Removing a menace to society—how could that be called a personal grudge? Unscrupulous arms dealers like Justin Hammer had indirectly killed countless innocent lives.
The Afghanistan War, the Cyprus War—behind them all were the shadows of these arms merchants. Even Cross agreed Justin Hammer was a bad man.
"Justin Hammer? That war profiteer who made a fortune peddling weapons?" Cross looked at Herman with surprise.
"Exactly." Herman nodded.
"What grudge could you possibly have against him?" Cross asked, puzzled. He couldn't understand why the new boss would hold a billionaire personally responsible.
"He insulted me." Herman answered earnestly.
Maybe thinking that wasn't convincing enough, he added, "He slandered me online every day—he even hired trolls to join in."
What a convincing motive!
Cross was momentarily at a loss for words.
He studied Herman with a strange expression, feeling this new leader seemed even more absurd than the previous one, Sloan. Why would Fate pick such a petty, vindictive executor?
"Are you the one who bought up all those Stark Group shares?" Cross, of course, knew the recent headlines. Assassins had to keep their ears open.
"You trying to say there's something wrong with me?" Herman narrowed his eyes at Cross, and Cross involuntarily took a few steps back, as if afraid he might become Herman's next target.
"Of course not. You have Destiny's guidance—maybe you know things we don't." Cross hurriedly explained, guessing Herman had glimpsed Stark's fate through Destiny's signs.
"You're a smart one." Herman patted Cross on the shoulder, smiling unusually warmly. "Relax. I'm not petty."
"Uh-huh, uh-huh." Cross gave an awkward laugh and nodded quickly. His eyes looked sincere—what he thought inside was anyone's guess.
"When can we move? Can I customize how he dies?" Herman's tone held a hint of anticipation.
"Um…how do you want him to die?" Cross normally wouldn't take such a customized request, but who refuses a job from Herman, the new boss?
"Killed by weapons made by his own company. That would be poetic. Do we have any firearms from Hammer Industries here?" Herman looked eagerly toward the weapons display.
"We used to." Cross answered tersely.
"And now?" Herman asked, not quite understanding.
"No one uses their junk anymore. The last group who did all died on missions." Cross didn't go into detail about the unlucky assassins' fate, but Herman could imagine—likely deaths caused by weapon malfunctions.
Of course. Hammer Industries' products were reliably unreliable.
No surprise coming from the knockoff tech firm that made the "Ex-Wife" missile.
Justin Hammer deserved what was coming.
"Then it's up to you to figure it out… I just want to see Justin Hammer's obituary in tomorrow's news." Herman felt a wave of boredom at the thought.
"For an assassination like this, our usual fee is no less than one hundred million." Cross stated the price, then immediately changed tack. "But this time, consider it a test of our capabilities now that you're in charge."
What a shrewd operator.
Herman's regard for Cross shot up instantly.
"Sure thing! You're doing great. Once our organization grows stronger, I'll promote you to Head Assassin." Herman cheerfully painted a rosy picture for Cross.
"If you want to rebuild the organization, relying just on me and Fox isn't enough." Cross gave Herman a deep look.
"You don't need to worry about that. Those willing to fight for destiny will eventually join our ranks under its guidance."
Herman was already a pro at playing the mystic. In truth, he had several candidates in mind—even S.H.I.E.L.D. agents would make solid recruits. When S.H.I.E.L.D. eventually collapsed, many of them would surely have no trouble switching careers to become assassins.
After all, it was practically the same line of work.
"I hope so."
Cross no longer carried the burning faith in destiny he once had. Now he clung only to a faint trace of loyalty.
Unlike Fox, who still held her devotion.
Cross stayed in his role simply because he'd been an assassin his whole life. He couldn't imagine doing anything else.
Retirement?
People like him could never truly blend into ordinary society.
He then briefed Herman on the organization's current state.
There were still plenty of peripheral members, but aside from the few African-Americans he'd brought to the new base, the rest weren't particularly loyal or dependable.
As for the group's funds... most had already been used to smooth things over at the textile factory. In reality, the organization's accounts held very little.
Sloan had squandered much of it during his leadership. Herman knew Cross wasn't lying—he had once browsed through Cross's memories.
By four or five in the afternoon, Fox arrived carrying a large box and joined the discussion.
"The new leader?"
Fox was a bombshell, her leather jacket and pants highlighting her already perfect figure.
"Don't I look the part?"
After showing Fox the token and confirming his identity, Herman met her teasing gaze with a warm smile.
"Oh, I just thought the new leader would be a bit more... robust. Didn't expect a pretty-faced little pretty boy." Fox chewed gum as she spoke, her temper far fiercer than Cross's.
"Want to try me?"
Herman knew that to tame a woman like her, he had to beat her at what she was most proud of. So he challenged Fox directly.
"Hm?"
Fox looked at him with keen interest. "Even if you're the leader chosen by destiny, I won't hold back in a fight."
She clearly wanted to test him.
Beside them, Cross also wanted to see what Herman was capable of—what made even a top assassin like him feel such a dangerous presence. He toyed with his gun but didn't step in, his gaze shifting between Herman and Fox.
"Guns or hand-to-hand?"
Fox rolled her wrists and neck.
"Either works."
Sparring with mortals like Fox posed no pressure for Herman. Even if he stood still, her attacks wouldn't touch him.
"Guns are too risky. Let me test your physique instead..." With that, Fox shot forward.
Her speed was impressive.
At least, to normal eyes, she was blazing fast. Without a signal or countdown, she snapped a roundhouse kick straight at Herman, who was still seated.
"Hmph."
To Herman, she moved like a turtle. This wasn't even close to a real fight. Calmly, he raised his hand and blocked the strike with ease.
"That's it?"
He backhanded and caught her ankle.
Fox felt as if her ankle had been clamped in iron.
She couldn't pull free at all.
"What the hell!?"
She had never faced such overwhelming strength. Launching off her other leg, she tried to twist upward, aiming to lock both legs around Herman's neck.
"Pretty ruthless."
But Herman gave her no chance. He blocked her other leg and flung her whole body aside.
Thud!
Fox slammed against the wall with a heavy crash. She dropped to the ground, the pain leaving her unable to rise for a while.
"The leader hits hard too."
Cross's eyes flickered. He was a tier above Fox and could clearly see that Herman had been completely at ease the entire time.
He hadn't even gotten serious.
"Didn't you want to test my physique? So, satisfied?" Herman teased, glancing down at Fox sprawled on the floor.
He truly hadn't used his strength.
Fox was fragile as glass to him.
If he had, the organization he inherited would've lost another elite member.
"Impressive."
Fox stared hard at Herman, forcing herself up through the pain. She couldn't quite accept such a decisive defeat.
"I still want to test with firearms."
As a woman who had chosen to become an assassin, her pride refused to back down.
"Firearms?"
Herman chuckled.
He suddenly snatched a gun from the table and, before Cross could even react, aimed it at Fox and pulled the trigger.
Bang!
Gunpowder erupted.
The bullet spun out of the barrel... Fox, its target, felt her heart stop in that instant.
Her assassin's instincts kicked in, driving her heart rate past four hundred, but the slowed perception of bullet time was useless now.
Her body couldn't respond. She wasn't even holding a gun. All she could do was watch the bullet cut through the air, locked on her forehead.
"Am I going to die?"
Fox's mind froze in terror.
She hadn't expected this.
Had the new leader, Herman, really chosen to shoot without hesitation? Was this his way of getting rid of her, the troublesome thorn?
Regret flashed through her.
She closed her eyes, knowing there was no chance to dodge.
"Now... still want to compare guns?"
After a long moment.
The sharp pain she expected, or the fading of her consciousness, never came.
Opening her eyes, Fox saw Herman standing by the table, smiling faintly, almost playfully.
Cross, the organization's top assassin, looked as if he'd seen a ghost. His eyes were wide, locked on her with disbelief.
"What's happening?"
A rush of relief washed over Fox.
Her once numb and icy limbs slowly began to regain warmth. She was certain that bullet had been aimed right between her eyes.
So why hadn't it hit?
She looked at Herman's amused expression, her mind racing.
Could it be...
Had this new leader used some kind of bullet-curving technique? But she hadn't seen him flick his wrist at all when he fired.
The whole situation felt unreal.
Even advanced gunplay shouldn't have provoked such a reaction from Cross.
"You... you..."
Cross suddenly glanced at Herman, then back at Fox. At last, he couldn't hold back and raised a hand to signal her.
He pointed at her forehead.
"Hm?"
Fox touched the spot in confusion—then froze. Her heart nearly stopped, a cold chill creeping up her spine.
"A bullet!"
At her forehead, she felt it—an actual bullet, pressed against her skin. A bullet that had stopped there, still spinning!
...
Regarding Herman's power.
Both Fox and Cross were completely convinced.
They were sharp enough to know their place—just assassins, mere killers, no match at all for someone with such terrifying abilities.
"With a leader like this, maybe the organization really can be reborn." Cross felt his heart stir.
Together with Fox, already subdued by Herman's display, Cross pledged their future loyalty.
"You are the Apostle chosen by Fate. Under your leadership, we will carry out destiny's will and fulfill our mission to correct history to the very end."
The last two Fate Assassins swore their oath solemnly, kneeling before Herman in an ancient and elaborate ritual.
After the ceremony, Herman had truly taken command of what was essentially a hollow shell of an organization.
He did regret destroying it so thoroughly before, but at least there were no bizarre complications—like Umbrella's bioweapons—showing up.
Later, over a meal, Herman used the classic "relationship-building at the dinner table" tactic, successfully closing the gap between leader and subordinates.
"Leader! Is your power the ability to control metal?" Fox finally couldn't hold back her curiosity.
Cross also glanced at Herman with interest.
"No."
Herman shook his head.
The one who controls metal is "Metalneto".
He was just an ordinary superpowered man, a fallen director destined to become a god—that was the [All-Seeing Eye]'s evaluation of him.
Of course, Herman would never say something that corny out loud.
So instead—
"This is the extraordinary gift granted to me by destiny. My will can imprint itself upon and influence reality." Herman gave it the mystical twist.
The two Fate Assassins bought it instantly.
"A gift from destiny!"
Cross muttered enviously, then whispered as though in sudden realization, "I knew Sloan was a fraud! No powers at all, yet he dared claim to be chosen by fate!"
Herman found Cross's speculation amusing.
He didn't bother explaining, just picked up a slice of twice-cooked pork and popped it into his mouth.
"Then can ordinary people like us gain superpowers too?" Fox asked eagerly. For someone her age, the allure of powers was irresistible.
"As long as you keep your faith and serve destiny… destiny will surely grant you favor." Herman replied with grave seriousness.
Fox's eyes lit up with excitement.
Even Cross looked shaken.
What?
People like them could gain powers too?
Cross, who had been thinking of retiring, suddenly felt young again. He could keep working as an assassin until eighty.
"Let's do it!"
Herman wasn't just stringing them along. Once he secured Umbrella's biotech rewards, he would be able to mass-produce superpowered individuals.
After eating and drinking their fill, Herman used the excuse that the gun shop was only good as a front for accepting jobs, and that core members needed a proper base. With that, he brought Cross and Fox back to Stellar Tower.
"From now on, these two are the company's janitors."
He had already told them beforehand this was fate's trial, so both Fox and Cross accepted the arrangement without hesitation.
Janitors, huh.
A role surprisingly fitting for assassins...
...
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