As Homelander In Multiverse

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On the helipad, Edgar watched the car monitor, showing Maeve struggling against the formidable "Black Sovereign" armor, suppressed at every turn. He sighed and picked up his phone, using the Seven's private channel to reach Homelander.

Originally, he'd hoped that Maeve and Starlight would work together and successfully rescue Arnold, completing their deal with the Defense Department. But now, though Maeve had managed to get Arnold out of the Empire State Building, she was being overpowered by this new, elite suit, with little hope of winning.

With no other options, Edgar decided to contact Homelander.

A rush of wind filled the call before Homelander's voice came through. "Make it quick, Edgar. I'm watching the show. Oh, looks like Maeve's about to lose."

A muscle in Edgar's face twitched. Damn it! This arrogant lunatic hadn't left—he was just hanging around, enjoying the chaos.

Edgar took a deep breath, calming his irritation. "Manhattan is in trouble right now. This is the perfect moment to showcase our strength and image."

"If you were to handle this situation, I believe our company's stock would soar."

"I'd be willing to give you 10% of the shares. What do you think?"

From the phone, Edgar heard a laugh. "If I want shares in Vought, why don't I just kill you and take it all? I'd make a lot more that way."

A chill went down Edgar's spine, but he managed a steady laugh. "Forgive me, but when it comes to running a company, I think I have more experience than you."

He expected to hear a sneer or some mocking retort, but instead, Homelander paused before saying, "Makes sense."

The calmness unsettled Edgar even more, revealing a side to Homelander that wasn't as unhinged as he often appeared.

Edgar hesitated. "So, do we have a deal?"

Homelander's voice turned cold. "Do you think I'm that cheap, Edgar? That 10% of Vought's stock would be enough for me to follow orders?"

"Dropping the call now."

And with that, the line went dead.

Edgar's face froze. In all his years of clawing his way up, building Vought into one of the world's wealthiest corporations, no one had ever told him he was "unqualified."

"That… that damn…"

As he gripped his phone in frustration, another call came in. The Defense Secretary.

Near the Empire State Building.

Two red beams slashed across the ground, catching Maeve in their path and sending her tumbling.

Maeve was covered in bruises, her gladiator-style suit barely hanging together.

Since she became a hero, she'd never been this battered.

Wiping the blood from her mouth, she tried to stand, only to see Z—clad in the menacing "Black Sovereign" armor—slowly lift off the ground.

"I'm done playing."

"And tell me, were you acting under federal orders?"

"The feds think they can get their hands on 'Zero'? Over my dead body!"

Z's voice boomed. "Since the government ignores my warnings, Manhattan will be reduced to rubble tonight!"

Meanwhile, at Times Square, a "Raptor" suit approached the Seismore device, inputting a command to transmit a signal.

Moments later, Maeve felt the ground begin to shake again.

The Seismore was activated!

Earthquakes spread across the island.

Manhattan residents stumbled, windows shattered as broken glass rained down, and the streets cracked with tremors, sending up plumes of dust and geysers of water from ruptured pipes.

The ground heaved like a boat in a storm, tossing everything with it.

Finally, a building at Times Square burst into flames, collapsing under the pressure and crumbling to dust and twisted metal.

On the waterfront, boats scrambled to flee the island, only to be ambushed by "Deep Diver" units.

From the air, fires dotted the river as boats sank, with survivors clinging to life jackets, crying out in panic.

Smoke billowed from Manhattan, a city that looked like it was living its last moments.

Cries and shouts for help filled the air.

Homelander watched it all unfold without so much as a flinch, even stifling a yawn.

"What's taking so long?"

He knew that by refusing Edgar's offer, he'd soon reel in an even bigger fish.

As it stood, it was clear that nothing short of large-scale weaponry could handle those armors.

But the government wouldn't risk using such weapons on their own soil.

So, they only had one choice.

Homelander.

And as if on cue, his communicator buzzed again.

"Hello, Homelander. This is Wilson. Wilson Brown."

Homelander chuckled. "Good evening, Secretary."

He knew exactly who Wilson was.

He'd thought he'd be getting a call from Homeland Security.

Instead, he was hearing from the man himself—the Defense Secretary, Wilson Brown.

"Let's get to the point," said Wilson. "I'm sure you know the situation in Manhattan."

"Z has activated the Seismore. I admit, we're out of options."

"And Edgar mentioned that he's unable to command you."

"So I'm asking—can you fight for the country? For justice?"

"Can you end this crisis with your own hands?"

Clever foxes, all of them.

As if country or justice meant anything to him.

Homelander smiled. "Of course, I'd love to help, but, unfortunately, I'm just a guy in a cape, flying around as a civilian."

"I don't think I'm really suited for the honor of fighting for the country."

A long silence followed on the other end.

Finally, the Defense Secretary chuckled. "Would the position of Secretary of Superhuman Affairs and a Lieutenant Colonel's rank in the Army be enough to make this mission...official?"

Homelander's grin widened. "That sounds appealing. And if you throw in the stock Edgar offered, I'd say that's the motivation I need."

The Secretary replied with a measured "Mmm." "I'll accept on Edgar's behalf."

"Is that so?"

"Then, Secretary, I'm sure you'll agree that 20% isn't quite enough. Let's make it 30%. Now that sounds fair, wouldn't you say?"

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