"I'm afraid I can't accept this contract," Erasmus said. He pushed the thick stack of papers away. The heavy document slid across the glass table, coming to a dead stop.
There was no way he could accept it. Not mentioning the fact that this would make him another puppet, the fact they wanted to take his blood for testing was unacceptable. Why was it that every time he thought he got himself out of trouble, he ran right back into it again?
The rest of the Seven exchanged startled looks. None of them had expected the boy to push the contract back, let alone refuse Vought so openly.
Homelander's smile froze instantly. He leaned over. "What's the matter, champ?"
"You promised, Dad," Erasmus whispered, his blue eyes fixed entirely on his father. "No needles. And no labs." Erasmus mimicked a scared child, but if his request was refused, no blood would be spilled but his own "father's" and every single person in this room.
Erasmus was ready to strike while the man guard was on its lowest. He wouldn't leave with nothing. He refused to admit this entire play had been a waste of time.
The realization dawned on Homelander. Whatever horrific, lab experiments Vogelbaum had put his son through, he had promised him that Vought would never touch him. But he was caught. He couldn't easily challenge Edgar's authority, yet he absolutely couldn't break his promise and let his son down.
Homelander raised his head. He locked his eyes onto the silent Edgar.
"There will be no labs or tests," Homelander said, trying to be as authoritative as possible. "But you can test his powers."
Edgar remained entirely motionless. He didn't blink. He didn't look at Homelander; his eyes stayed fixed on the teenager.
What was the boy so afraid of? Could it be whatever Vogelbaum did to him in the earlier years?
But this didn't make sense. On the outside, and based on his interactions with the boy, he didn't seem traumatized or of the type to be scared of a routine needle.
Anyway they didn't need a formal medical lab; they could covertly harvest a stray hair, a skin scraping, or a drop of blood from the boy's private quarters while he slept.
Edgar remained completely expressionless. He slowly picked up his Vought-branded pen, tapping it once against the table.
"Will that be all?" Edgar asked, his voice smooth. "It is a simple matter that can be arranged."
"That will be all," Erasmus said.
"Then we have an understanding," Edgar said. He smoothly scribbled out the clauses Erasmus had refused, then pushed the modified papers back across the glass table. "After you sign this contract, we will first evaluate your powers. After that, there is the small matter of your first public appearance."
"My first public appearance?" Erasmus asked. "Didn't I already participate in killing those people in Syria?"
"First of all, it is not killing. It is cleaning a terrorist cell," Edgar corrected. "Second, Syria was an international military exercise. You need an appearance where the people who actually matter to this company can see you. And unlike Syria, you will need to control your powers. You cannot cause destruction to public property. Not as much as you can help it. With all of this out of the way, there is one more thing," Edgar murmured.
The heavy doors slid open. A young woman with blonde hair walked in and stood next to him, drawing the attention of the Seven in the room.
"This is Cate Dunlap," Edgar stated, his voice flat. "An elite senior from Godolkin University. She is Vanguard's new partner."
"Wait." Homelander stopped Edgar with a smile. "Erasmus is my son. I'm his partner."
"That decision isn't yours to take. It's Vought's decision alone," Edgar replied smoothly. "Vanguard refuses to do press, commercials, or public interviews. Miss Dunlap, however, is exceptionally fluent in social media and institutional public relations. She will handle the public-facing side of your brand while Vanguard focuses entirely on the field."
Edgar had played his hand, and he knew the math checked out. Pulling Cate from Godolkin University was a minor sacrifice; the college was just a farm league. Golden Boy was a promising prospect, certainly, but Vanguard was a global, top-tier asset. A boy with apocalyptic powers and absolutely none of the leashes.
Oh, Edgar. Oh, Edgar. How fascinating. Erasmus smiled on the inside. It truly was fascinating; no matter how many times he modified this old man, Edgar would always return to his scheming after some time. Just like now. He had brought this girl here to control him. One touch was all it would take.
"What the fuck?"
Down in the damp, concrete underground hideout, Mother's Milk cursed loudly. The tiny, dusty television screen froze on Erasmus's golden-haired image standing proudly next to Homelander.
"What the fuck?" MM cursed again. He spun around, his eyes burning with pure disbelief as he looked at the shocked faces of Hughie and Frenchie. "Vanguard?" MM barked, pointing a thick, trembling finger at the screen.
"Who the fuck is Vanguard? How the fuck can this shit get any worse? The deputy director of the CIA's head was just popped and pinned down on us, and the people we are up against just got a mini Homelander?"