The addition of Cross and Fox went smoothly.
The atmosphere in Herman's company was already warm.
"Welcome to our big family!"
The company wasn't large, but the few existing members were genuinely happy to see newcomers. They immediately gave the two assassins a hearty welcome.
Everyone's enthusiasm made Cross wonder if he'd walked into a pyramid scheme.
There were no snobs here. None of the veteran employees looked down on Cross and Fox just because they were janitors.
Carrie eagerly shared her homemade snacks.
Skye described the company's generous benefits. Aunt May brewed them perfectly warm tea.
Quicksilver tried to share his newspaper, but Cross and Fox politely declined, uninterested in the doorman's offer.
Blind lawyer Matt warmly asked about their family backgrounds.
He had the sense that two very dangerous people had just joined. The hardened calluses on their hands alone gave them away.
Faced with his probing questions, Cross and Fox answered without a single slip.
"From the countryside abroad."
"Came to the city to earn a living."
"Not much worldly experience, only fit for cleaning work."
Hearing these familiar answers, Matt became even more certain—they were suspicious, just like everyone else Herman had brought in.
In Matt's limited understanding, anyone abnormal in the company had to be a mutant.
"You'll both enjoy living here," Matt said knowingly, a faint smile playing on his lips.
"I think so too."
Cross smiled back. Looking at the blind man, he couldn't help but admire the new leader's skill—even someone like this could stir a sense of danger.
"Your eyes… really don't affect how you move?"
Fox watched as Matt moved naturally, even reaching unerringly for the water glass. Her eyes widened in disbelief.
"Though God took my sight, He opened another window for me." Matt precisely picked up a sugar cube from the table.
If they hadn't seen him without sunglasses, Fox and Cross would never have believed such a man was blind.
Cross thought Matt had real potential as an assassin. Just being blind would be enough to lower most targets' guard.
"No wonder the boss made him the lawyer at the new base." Cross thought he had it figured out, convinced Matt was one of Herman's reserve members.
"You eat so much… and you really don't gain weight?" Fox was stunned by Carrie's appetite. She suspected Carrie had been given a "gift from fate"—a superpower that let her eat endlessly without getting fat.
Honestly, Fox was jealous of that kind of ability.
"The doctor says I just have a strong metabolism."
Carrie replied with a calm smile, slipping another marshmallow into her mouth. Her beauty made even someone like Fox feel her heart skip a beat.
Too beautiful.
Snap!
Suddenly, a sharp sound rang out.
Fox and Cross instinctively reached for their guns… only to realize it was just Skye, who had shattered a glass while pouring coffee.
Aunt May and the others weren't surprised.
"Not sleeping well lately? That's the sixth cup you've broken," Aunt May said gently as she went to her side.
"It's fine… just slipped." Skye's smile was forced. Only she knew it wasn't a slip or a lapse— the glass had exploded in her hand. Last night, her favorite headphones had blown apart too.
She glanced down at her hands.
She had no idea what was happening. And she dared not tell anyone, afraid they'd see her as crazy or a freak.
"I'll clean it."
Cross stepped forward with a mop and cleaning supplies.
Moments later—
"Professional! Absolutely professional!"
Since the two assassins had joined, Skye had praised their skills more than once. Their cleaning left the place far more spotless than her own efforts ever could.
The office shone, practically dust-free.
"We've been at this work for years. Doing it properly is just our way." Cross smiled humbly. For them, it was nothing special. Back when they carried out assassinations, disguising themselves as janitors had been common.
For an assassin, the rule was simple: no matter the disguise, to avoid suspicion, you had to perform the role to perfection.
During their days in Stellar Tower, Cross and Fox found themselves surprisingly comfortable.
But while Cross enjoyed this semi-retirement, Fox, still devoted to destiny, couldn't stop thinking about fate's chosen targets.
"Has the Loom given a new name yet?"
Fox asked Herman every day. She feared if this peaceful life went on, she might lose the resolve to carry out the mission fate had given her.
Besides, Carrie's endless delicacies were too tempting.
"When the Loom gives a name, I'll tell you. For now, get used to this life. There will be plenty of chances for you to prove yourselves."
Herman sighed and ushered Fox out of his office.
"I told you already—those past missions were just Sloan pulling strings behind the scenes." Cross waited outside the door for Fox. Seeing the disappointment on her face, he immediately guessed she hadn't gotten the list.
"You've got no proof. Don't go smearing the former leader." Fox rolled her eyes and walked off with her cleaning tools.
Cross pursed his lips, grabbed a magazine, and went over to Quicksilver, dragging a stool over to sit like a doorman.
No missions.
He was more than happy living this kind of peaceful life.
"What are you reading?"
Quicksilver set his newspaper aside and leaned over curiously.
And then—
He stumbled upon an entirely new world in the magazine Cross was holding. My god! How could a skinny bikini girl end up like that?
...
"Special effects are done?"
A few days later.
Once the special effects for The Boys were finished, Herman wasted no time arranging for the show's television broadcast.
As for connections—
He no longer needed to rely on S.H.I.E.L.D. or the Mutant Academy. A billionaire's network alone was terrifying.
Especially when this billionaire didn't care about profits and only demanded his work air in prime time. For most TV networks, refusing was nearly impossible.
In this era, The Boys definitely counted as top-notch production.
...
S.H.I.E.L.D.
Aboard the Helicarrier at sea.
"Homelander's behavior lately has been strange. He's been frantically buying up Stark Industries stock, like he's certain Stark isn't dead."
The agents had been monitoring Herman closely. They were fully aware of his major moves in the stock market.
"Where did he get this intel?"
Nick Fury was baffled.
It was only today that he had gotten confirmation Stark was kidnapped by terrorists—S.H.I.E.L.D. hadn't even located where they were holding him.
And yet—
Herman had acted as if he knew Stark was alive more than ten days ago. No matter how Fury looked at it, the situation was bizarre.
He admitted Herman's power was formidable, strong enough that even S.H.I.E.L.D. couldn't afford to provoke him. But even so, Herman shouldn't have access to intelligence channels better than S.H.I.E.L.D.'s.
Unless...
Umbrella's intel network was somehow sharper than theirs? But Umbrella didn't even operate in Afghanistan.
"Maybe super-vision!"
Coulson ventured boldly. "If he can fly into space, maybe he can literally see every corner of Earth."
Good grief.
That was treating Herman like Superman.
Nick Fury gave Coulson a look like he was an idiot.
"Lay off the superhero movies."
He warned him in all seriousness.
"Just once in a while," Coulson chuckled awkwardly, avoiding eye contact.
"Still, when it comes to Tony Stark's situation, Homelander did get wind of it before us." Natasha, while not buying Coulson's theory, also suspected Herman might really have some kind of information source.
"You don't actually think he kidnapped Tony Stark, do you?" Coulson tried to lighten the mood, but Fury's expression only grew darker.
"Wait—you're serious?" Coulson muttered.
"It's not impossible," Fury said, worry etched across his face. "If the Homelander he plays on TV really reflects his true self, then to corner Stark Industries' stock, he might actually resort to methods we can't talk about openly."
That was clearly mixing up the TV character with reality.
Coulson wanted to argue, but then he thought again.
Someone who could butcher a modified human in the middle of the street—who could really say what kind of darkness was in a man like that?
"Let's hope that's not the case."
Coulson prayed quietly.
Earth couldn't withstand the rampage of a real Homelander.
"I think Herman is reasonable enough, as long as you don't cross his bottom line," Natasha said after a pause. "Casting himself as a lawless Homelander in the show doesn't necessarily mean he's really like that."
"Kind of like how shut-ins fantasize about juggling multiple girls, but if it actually happened, most would just run away."
She tried to analyze Herman's choice of character from a psychological angle.
It was, admittedly, a strange analogy.
"Regardless, we have to find Tony Stark quickly. Since Herman knows the inside story, I should send someone to talk to him."
Nick Fury's gaze settled on Coulson.
"Me? No way! I don't want to deal with that guy!"
Coulson recalled the last time he'd seen Herman. The man was terrifying, downright brutal. He had no desire to end up with his head ripped off.
"Sorry, I'm Hollywood's rising star. I'm not suited for negotiating with Homelander." Natasha spread her hands in mock helplessness, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
"If all the dirty, thankless jobs go to me, I expect a big raise." Coulson finally gritted his teeth and accepted the assignment.
He braced himself, heading out with the mindset of a man marching to his death.
...
Herman was surprised.
S.H.I.E.L.D. had actually paid him a visit.
Well, officially they were still called the Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division, though inside the organization the push to rebrand as S.H.I.E.L.D. was already underway.
"Is this about the Umbrella contract?"
Herman looked at the man in front of him.
A neatly pressed black suit, hair carefully combed—a man who, in a few years, would be sporting a receding hairline.
As a central figure in Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D., Herman immediately recognized him—rookie village chief, Coulson.
He'd even spotted him from afar on the highway before.
"Special Agent Coulson, Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement and Logistics Division." Coulson introduced himself.
"That name's quite a mouthful."
Herman set down the Playboy magazine he had confiscated from Quicksilver. Such corrupting material could taint him, but he wouldn't let it taint minors.
...
"The leadership back then liked that sort of style." Coulson smiled lightly, holding the tea Aunt May had just brought in.
Only after Aunt May left the office did Coulson finally say, "Would you mind sparing me a moment?"
Politeness was always his strong suit.
"Ever thought about changing the name? I think 'S.H.I.E.L.D.' fits perfectly—very in line with your busybody nature."
Herman didn't answer the question. Instead, he leaned on one hand, studying Coulson with interest. He guessed this visit was either about Umbrella's contract or the highway incident.
Either way, he wasn't afraid of S.H.I.E.L.D. coming clean.
"Looks like you've done some digging into us," Coulson said with an unchanged smile, though his eyes lingered on Herman.
He knew there had been hidden meaning in Herman's words.
It was a signal—
That Herman knew S.H.I.E.L.D.'s true nature.
"So, what's this about?" Herman asked casually, knowing his hint had landed. No need for wasted chatter.
"We'd like to know about Tony Stark." Coulson understood and went straight to the point.
"If I refuse, does that mean a squad of agents bursts in?" Herman looked toward the window with interest.
Down below, the street seemed to have acquired a few more vendors.
"Of course not."
Coulson put on a surprised expression. But Herman didn't believe for a second that the vendors downstairs were just a coincidence. Agents' mouths were made for lying.
"I'm not afraid of your agents, but that kind of setup would annoy me. Things between us have been fairly pleasant so far, haven't they?"
Herman turned back.
His calm eyes carried an unsettling depth.
"I understand. Trust me, the we don't want conflict with you either." Coulson felt a chill in his chest, as though Herman saw right through him—even though he was equipped with professional protective gear.
"Good."
Herman smiled with satisfaction.
"So, can you tell us Tony Stark's location?" Coulson didn't bother asking about sources. He just needed accurate intel. After all, the Director valued that playboy more than most.
"And the price? What's the price for the information?"
Herman's voice was calm, unhurried. He tapped his fingers lightly on the desk, the dull sound alone pressing heavily on Coulson.
Coulson understood—Herman was demanding something in return, a payoff to report back. He'd never met anyone bold enough to try extorting S.H.I.E.L.D. before.
But he also knew—
Herman had both the power and the confidence to do it.
Faced with someone this strong, unpredictable, and beyond control, even Nick Fury had only ordered that they maintain good relations. Coulson wasn't confused about why.
Fury, suspicious as he was, clearly didn't have the confidence to confront Herman directly. S.H.I.E.L.D., for all its power, might actually be the weaker side here.
"What do you want?"
Coulson had already prepared himself to be fleeced.
The weaker party always gets extorted. It was only natural.