As Homelander In Multiverse

After being publicly reprimanded by Angelina, Dodge Wesson couldn't stay in Seven Tower any longer. Humiliated, he fled like a rat abandoning a sinking ship.

Meanwhile, his live-stream chat exploded with furious messages:

'I knew it! He was slandering Homelander. What a scumbag. Unsubscribed!'

'What a fraud! I thought he had actual evidence, but it was all speculation.'

'Trash reporter, chasing clout just like the others. I'm done. Unsubscribed!'

Watching the angry comments flood his phone screen, Dodge felt his heart twist painfully. His follower count was plummeting in real time.

"This... this isn't how it was supposed to go," he whispered to himself, devastated.

"The doctor said she was gravely injured!"

"Since when can Homelander treat life-threatening injuries?"

"He made me look like a clown… humiliated me in front of a million people. He just ruined my career!"

Frustrated and seething with rage, Dodge turned back toward Seven Tower. His face twisted with hatred as he raised his hand and gave the building a not-so-subtle middle finger.

---

Elsewhere, in a Townhouse

A man sipped coffee as he scrolled through his phone.

"What's caught your eye?" asked a woman—his girlfriend—handing him a fresh cup.

He set his phone down with a smirk. "That idiot crossed the wrong person—Homelander."

The woman leaned over, glancing at the phone's screen. She caught a glimpse of Dodge Wesson leaving Seven Tower in disgrace.

"Who is that?"

"Some second-rate journalist," the man replied. "Tried to boost his career by slandering Homelander. It backfired."

With a playful grin, he wrapped his arm around her. "So, darling, how about this—if I bring that idiot's head to Homelander, do you think he'd let me join the Seven?"

The woman cupped his face, her smile sly. "Oh, absolutely. Soon, my Blue Hawk will be one of them."

---

In an Old Apartment

The Liquid Man slouched on a worn-out couch, watching the live stream unfold on his tablet.

Angelina, pale but defiant, appeared on screen, tearing Dodge Wesson's reputation to shreds.

"This… this can't be happening," he muttered in disbelief.

Just then, his phone rang.

He glanced at the caller ID—O'Connor. With a sigh, he answered but discreetly enabled his recording app.

O'Connor's voice exploded through the speaker:

"Explain yourself! Are you screwing with me? How is that woman still alive?"

Liquid Man opened his mouth to respond, but O'Connor cut him off.

"You've taken my money. You'd better make sure that sweet little niece of mine ends up in a cold coffin!"

The line went dead.

Liquid Man sat in silence, then replayed the recorded conversation, listening carefully to every word.

---

Seven Tower, 88th Floor

In his office, Edgar closed his phone after watching the live stream. Leaning back in his chair, he let out a small, amused chuckle.

"Tell me," he mused aloud to the empty room, "how do you think Homelander managed to heal such grievous injuries?"

"Severe organ damage and internal bleeding aren't the kind of things you just patch up."

The room remained silent.

Edgar smiled knowingly. "I know you're there, Invisible Man. Homelander sent you to keep an eye on me, didn't he?"

He paused, as if waiting for a response, but none came.

"He's really changed, hasn't he? Do you know why?"

Still no answer.

Edgar chuckled softly. "Looks like the death of Deep scared you senseless."

"No worries. Stay silent if you want. I only have one request."

"When I use the bathroom, stop watching me. Thanks."

He returned to his work, his expression calm. Behind him, one of the potted plants rustled slightly—just a single leaf, fluttering without any breeze.

---

In Maeve's Room

Homelander stood at the window, arms crossed, gazing out at the cityscape.

Maeve, lying on a lounge chair in casual clothing that showed off her long legs, rolled her eyes.

"Don't you have your own room?"

Homelander turned with a grin, casually walking over to her. Without hesitation, he cupped her cheek, his touch light but deliberate.

"As your teammate, I feel obligated to check in on you."

Maeve gave him a sideways glance but made no move to remove his hand. "Well, you've seen me now."

"As you can tell, I'm fine. Fully recovered."

Homelander's hand slid down her cheek. "I'm not so sure… I think you need a full-body check-up."

Maeve chuckled. "Just a check-up?"

With a playful smirk, Homelander hooked a finger under the neckline of her shirt. "What else?"

Before things could escalate, his phone buzzed.

Maeve seized the opportunity, placing a hand over her chest. "Looks like you've got more pressing matters to attend to."

Homelander gave her an amused grin but said nothing as he left the room.

Once the door clicked shut, Maeve exhaled quietly. Staring at the ceiling, she muttered under her breath.

"What's with that guy lately?"

"He feels... different."

"And now he wants to reform the Seven..."

She smirked slightly. "Well, if it means no more ads, movies, or reality shows, I guess I'm all for it."

---

Sunday Afternoon – Training Room

In the private training room, with all cameras deactivated, Homelander stood with Angelina, ready for their sparring session.

"Come on," he said with a grin, motioning her forward.

With a sharp battle cry, Angelina launched herself at him, moving with astonishing speed. Her movements were so fast that most people would only see a blur.

She aimed a powerful knee strike at his midsection, but instead of staggering, Homelander stood perfectly still.

Undeterred, Angelina attacked from all angles—punches, kicks, every blow powerful enough to kill an ordinary person. Yet, against Homelander, it was as if she were swatting at a stone wall.

He didn't budge.

In fact, he even opened his status screen mid-fight, checking on his Steel Body skill.

Hmm. It's barely gone up by a point…

"Looks like regular training won't cut it. I'll need real combat to see meaningful progress," he thought.

Just as he mused on this, Angelina leapt onto his shoulders, locking her legs around his neck and twisting her body in an attempt to throw him.

But Homelander remained rooted to the spot.

With an amused chuckle, he grabbed her by the wrist. "I'm not the right partner for your training. Let's wrap this up and... move on to something more fun."

Angelina's face flushed a deep red.

As they shifted to a more intimate activity, Homelander spoke casually:

"The assassin who came after you… I had Annika from the crime analysis team dig into it. I believe it was Liquid Man—a professional killer on our blacklist."

"Now that he knows you're still alive, he'll likely make another move. I'll need you to cooperate."

He smiled, his tone soft yet commanding.

"That way, we can set the stage for your revenge."

Angelina's voice trembled slightly as she whispered, "Whatever you say... Master."

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