Right after Hughie and Billy Butcher temporarily had a falling-out, Hughie lowered his head and quietly returned to his little video store, feeling like he'd gone back to being completely alone again.
Just as Hughie was sinking into his own sadness, the door was suddenly shoved open with rough force. The Deep—sporting scruffy stubble and dressed in an unbelievably ridiculous skin-tight suit—walked in. Maybe it was just that "losers recognize losers," but either way… he really did find Hughie.
"The Deep…"
Hughie stared at him barging into the shop, his heart pounding like crazy. Right now, he felt like a kid who'd just finished pulling a prank and got caught by the teacher—nervous, scared, and also… weirdly excited?!
"Listen. Tell me what this is, or you're gonna have a bad time!"
The Deep pulled out a round listening bug from his palm and slapped it onto Hughie's counter, copying that whole "FBI threatening a suspect" vibe from TV as he threatened Hughie.
"I don't know what you're talki—"
Hughie shook his head, acting like he had no idea.
"Hey, don't play dumb!"
"I saw you with my own eyes putting this thing in The Seven's conference room! You think I'm blind?!"
The Deep just started running his mouth. Truth was, he hadn't seen Hughie plant anything. When Hughie went to Vought Tower, The Deep wasn't even there—he was at a therapy appointment.
"You've got the wrong person."
Hughie shook his head again, insisting The Deep had mistaken him for someone else.
"You're forcing me. You're forcing me to use violence. I didn't want to do this—this is all because you made me!"
The Deep pointed a finger at Hughie's nose. It wasn't clear whether he was threatening Hughie… or hypnotizing himself.
"Hey, buddy. Look over here."
Right as The Deep kept threatening Hughie, a voice sounded from behind him.
"Huh?"
The Deep turned his head, confused.
A fist the size of a punching bag slammed into his face.
Bam!
With just one punch, The Deep hit the floor, clutching his nose in agony.
"My nose! You broke my nose!"
Tears welled up in The Deep's eyes. He'd only wanted to ask why someone had bugged The Seven's office. He was just… he was just trying to protect dolphins, okay?! Was that a crime?!
Bzzzt! Bzzzt!
Billy Butcher—back again—pulled a stun gun from his pocket. Then, gripping it in his hand, he pressed it down onto The Deep's body.
"Ugh—"
The Deep convulsed from the shock, then went limp on the floor, motionless like a dead fish.
"WTF?! You knocked out a superhero?!"
Hughie stared at the unconscious Deep, eyes wide.
"First, let me correct you—wasn't me. It was us, together!"
"Second, all he can do is talk to fish. That doesn't make him a superhero!"
"Now help me stuff him in the trunk. I've got questions for him."
Butcher wiped sweat off his forehead as he spoke to Hughie.
"What? Why would I help you? Didn't you just say you don't need me anymore?"
Hughie was still pissed.
"Sure, you can refuse. But remember this: the guy on the floor already got a good look at your face. He didn't see mine. So tell me—when he wakes up, who do you think he's gonna come after?"
Butcher frowned, his voice low.
"Fuck!"
Hughie looked at the wrecked mess of his shop and rubbed his head in frustration.
A few minutes later, Hughie did a quick, sloppy cleanup. Then he followed Butcher, and the two of them hauled The Deep out and drove off together.
Meanwhile, using intel about Compound V, the Mayor of Baltimore had just blackmailed Stillwell hard. Stillwell had originally planned to quote three hundred million, but she was forced into a deal at two hundred and thirty million. Now the mayor was flying through thick, stormy clouds with his family on a private jet.
After a bout of turbulence, the mayor's son—grinning while admiring the signed Homelander poster in his hands—suddenly looked out the window.
Outside, a man draped in the American flag was flying alongside the plane.
"Dad, look! It's Homelander! Are you friends with him?!"
The mayor's son, a little boy around seven or eight, shouted excitedly.
"Huh? What the hell is he doing out there?"
The battle-hardened mayor smelled something off. He pulled his son into his arms.
Bzzzt…
Right as the mayor was trying to make sense of it, Homelander's eyes began to glow red.
"WTF?"
The mayor stared at Homelander's glowing eyes, hugged his son tighter, and dropped flat to the floor of the jet.
The next second, two red beams lit up the sky, slicing the plane cleanly in half.
Homelander crossed his arms in midair. Then, without even looking at the wreckage he'd created, he flew straight toward Vought Tower.
A few minutes later…
A white figure emerged from the ocean, holding two people—one big, one small. He flew them all the way to the nearest stretch of land before setting them down.
"Huff… huff… huff…"
Mayor Steve of Baltimore—who'd spent half his life clawing his way upward and had lost every last hair on his head along the way—gasped for breath.
"Fuck! This is attempted murder! Your Vought company is committing murder!"
The mayor pointed at the white figure who'd dragged him out of the water and roared.
"Listen up. I'm the one who just yanked you and your little shit kid out of that goddamn ocean. Without me, you'd already be dead."
The white figure grabbed Steve by the throat and lifted him high off the ground.
"Are you fucking calm now?"
The white figure bellowed right in his face.
"Mm! Mm! Mm!"
Steve felt like he couldn't breathe and nodded frantically.
"Good."
The white figure seemed satisfied and lowered him back down in front of him.
"Listen. Burn everything you saw today into your brain. When you get back, you keep your mouth shut. Your cooperation with Vought continues like normal—don't spook the snake. But you can quietly post every negative piece of press you can find about Homelander online. As for what happened today, wait for my signal. When the time comes, you get your revenge in one shot—completely destroy the bastard who turned you into a drowned rat."
"Remember: your enemy is Homelander, and the Vought executives standing behind him. You understand me?!"
The white figure jabbed a finger at Steve's throat as he shouted.
"I… I understand."
Steve nodded repeatedly. Once he forced himself to calm down, terror washed over him—followed by a mind full of revenge.
Maybe he couldn't destroy Vought entirely… but Homelander, the one who almost got him killed, had to pay.
And as for this new Vought "top star" who'd saved him—if they had shared interests and shared enemies, then they could absolutely be "good friends." In the adult world, the word "friend" was cheap. Whether you were friends or not depended on one thing: could you bring enough benefit?
"Good…"
The white figure nodded slightly and turned, like he was about to leave.
"Wait…"
Just as Steve was about to finally exhale, the white figure suddenly turned back and walked over to Steve's kid.
"W-What are you doing?"
Steve pulled his child behind him, staring warily at the white figure.
"Fuck! Why are you still holding that idiot's poster?"
The white figure cursed, snatched the signed Homelander poster out of the kid's hands, and ripped it to shreds right in front of him.
"Remember this: when you were helpless, the one who saved you wasn't that clown with the stupid cape. It was me—Freeman."
"Go home and frame this. When you've got nothing to do, bow to it, worship it. Works better than praying to God."
Still cursing under his breath, the white figure dug into a waterproof bag he'd brought along, pulled out his own poster, signed his name, and stuffed it into the kid's hands.
Boom!
This time, the white figure finally rocketed into the sky with a thunderous blast—and didn't come back.
"Dad, can I frame this?"
After the white figure flew away, little Steve—holding the poster with stars in his eyes—looked up at big Steve and asked excitedly.
For a kid that age, he wasn't scared at all. He was thrilled. Getting attacked by Homelander and then rescued by Freeman felt like the greatest bragging material he could possibly take back to school.
"Shit!"
Steve looked at his soaked, pathetic self—furious.
But from the fact Homelander attacked them and Freeman immediately saved them, it was clear Vought wasn't a single solid wall. If the enemy wasn't truly invincible… then Steve was confident he had what it took to drag them down.
He was the Mayor of Baltimore. He didn't get where he was by being harmless…
The next morning, the news reported that Steve's family had been attacked, and that Steve and his child had narrowly survived thanks to a rescue.
"WTF?!"
Homelander's face went dark as he watched the morning report. Panic twisted in his gut, and he decided he had to erase Steve as a loose end—completely.
"Homelander!"
Just as Homelander's face turned pale and he was about to go deal with Steve, Stillwell walked into The Seven's conference room and stopped him.
"I know I screwed up with Stillwell, but don't worry. I'll handle it—clean and quiet."
Homelander stared at her, expression grim, and kept promising.
"What are you talking about?! You did great!"
Stillwell raised an eyebrow at Homelander's words.
"Huh?"
Homelander looked confused. He didn't understand what she meant.
"Steve just called me. He said he's so grateful you saved him yesterday. So not only is he still signing the Nubian Prince deal—he wants you as their city's official ambassador for five hundred million."
"You don't have to do anything. Just give them your most handsome photos, and you make five hundred million! Five hundred million a year! Fuck—I'm not even that old and I've never seen photos that expensive."
Stillwell walked right up and kissed Homelander on the left cheek, then the right, talking the whole time. Then, without waiting for an answer, she spun around and practically floated away in excitement. When she reached the doorway of The Seven's main room, she still stopped, turned back, and looked at Homelander again.
"Nice work! Seriously, you did an amazing job! Homelander, I'm proud of you!"
Stillwell kept praising him. The gloom from being blackmailed with Compound V—and losing seventy million because of it—was instantly wiped away by the unexpected five hundred million. She was so excited she could barely contain herself. After praising Homelander several more times, she finally turned and left with a spring in her step.
"WTF…?"
Stillwell's whirlwind exit left Homelander standing alone in the conference room, completely stunned.
…
At the coffee machine, Jovian kept his head down, quietly brewing coffee, smiling without saying a word.
He couldn't wait to see the moment everything flipped—when Homelander's face twisted in rage.
Elsewhere, in a dark basement…
"Somebody save me! Someone save me! Freeman? Homelander? Where are you?! I'm scared! This place is full of demons! Monsters! And those disgusting, brutal sickos who murdered dolphins—I'm scared—I… I… I'll fuck their whole families!"
The Deep—who'd been planning to go rescue dolphins—was now locked in a basement. He kept screaming and cursing, feeling like the entire world had forgotten him.
This wasn't just about saving dolphins anymore. The guy who was supposed to save dolphins desperately needed someone to save him.
"Is it fine if we just keep him locked up here?"
"Yeah."
"This guy's only a big deal when he's in an aquarium. Any other time, he's worse than a normal person."
"Honestly, I've never understood why he joined The Seven. Wouldn't it be better to just work at a zoo or an aquarium as an animal trainer?"
Outside the cage, three rough-looking guys chatted while staring at The Deep.
"So what are we going to do with him?"
Hughie looked at Butcher—and Frenchie, who'd just gotten screwed over by Butcher—and asked.
"That depends on whether he wants to cooperate."
"If he agrees to be our mole inside The Seven, we let him go immediately. Seriously—if you can't stand watching this, you can go talk to him."
"You can walk up to the cage and say, 'Hey, Deep—swear you'll work for us and we won't blow up the bomb we shoved up your ass.'"
Butcher smiled at The Deep's desperate struggling.
They'd done damn well today—actually capturing one of The Seven.
And if nothing went wrong, they'd soon have an insider who could move freely inside Vought Tower and had real leverage. With that, he could dig through Vought and learn everything—especially the truth about his wife…
That sanctimonious-looking bastard, Homelander—who was really a disgusting monster in a cape—would pay for it.
He would pay a brutal price.
"Hm?"
Jovian stared at the coffee in his cup and paused.
"Did I forget someone?"
He lifted an eyebrow, thinking hard. A few seconds later, he stretched lazily.
Whatever. If he couldn't remember it, it probably wasn't important.