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At this moment, countless people like Toomes, struggling on the edge of the abyss, were pulled back by an invisible large hand.
Meanwhile, online, topics about Homelander dominated all trending searches on Twitter, Facebook, Instagram, and other platforms with unstoppable momentum.
Notification! Gained popularity value +152223!
Notification! Gained popularity value +125252!
Notification! Gained popularity value +148520!
Notification! Gained... Massive popularity values pulsed wildly, wave after wave washing over Homelander's senses.
That feeling was more intoxicating than the strongest liquor.
Every cheer, every piece of praise, could be converted into tangible power with a single thought.
Homelander flew above New York, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, as if inhaling the adoration of the entire World into his lungs.
"A perfect performance."
He whispered to himself, then his figure flashed, landing on the Vought Tower platform amid the lingering reverberations of a sonic boom... returning to the Homelander CEO's Office.
The scent of post-passion hormones still lingered in the air, but Jessica was gone.
"Miss Jones has left, sir."
The voice of Skynet came from beside the desk. She was personally tidying the somewhat chaotic office, still wearing her black and White OL professional attire, though her neckline seemed to have dropped a little lower.
"When she left, she took the Macallan 64 from your liquor cabinet and left a message."
"If you don't take her with you to beat up that damn Planet, she'll sell Vought the moment you leave the Earth. She hasn't resigned from her position as Vought CEO yet."
"Heh, let her be." Homelander smiled slightly.
"The guest who introduced himself as 'Nick Fury' has been waiting in the reception room for an hour."
"Make him wait."
Homelander walked up to the liquor cabinet and poured himself a glass of milk.
"You clean up the office first."
"Yes, sir."
Skynet stepped forward, her slender hand resting lightly on Homelander's shoulder, her body leaning forward until she was practically pressed against Homelander's back.
"However..."
She breathed a puff of air into Homelander's ear, her voice slightly breathless.
"...I think Mr. Starr is also a bit messy."
Homelander turned around, looking at the perfect artificial beauty before him.
"Is that so?"
He put down the cup in his hand.
"Then... let's clean up thoroughly."
...One hour later.
Skynet tidied the slightly messy collar of her shirt and exited the office with elegant steps.
Another fifteen minutes passed.
"Bang!"
The office door was violently shoved open.
The door panel slammed against the wall, making a loud noise.
A White old man in a black trench coat strode in quickly, long-suppressed rage burning in his single eye.
"Motherfucker! Do you know what I hate most in my life, Starr?"
Fury had no intention of sitting down. He walked up to the desk, slammed both hands down hard on the surface, and stared intensely at Homelander.
"You made me wait two hours." He held up two fingers. "Two hours! Do you have any idea that what I need to discuss with you is about the World..."
"Zzzzz—!!"
Two beams of crimson high-energy Heat Vision instantly sliced through the air, accurately striking the chest of the White old man.
"Boom—!"
Before Fury could finish his sentence, his body was sent flying backward out of the office by the immense impact force.
The red light in Homelander's eyes gradually extinguished. He unhurriedly set down his milk cup and spoke calmly to the air outside the door:
"First, I don't like people shoving my door."
"Second, organize your words and say it again."
A few seconds later.
"Hoooo—!!"
A roar came from outside the door.
The temperature in the air suddenly rose, and a smell of sulfur spread.
"Thump! Thump! Thump!"
Heavy footsteps sounded, leaving scorched footprints on the carpet with every step.
Fury appeared at the doorway again.
But he was no longer the White old man from before.
Orange-yellow flames suddenly erupted from his seven orifices, instantly consuming his skin.
Hellfire blazed fiercely on his skull.
"This trick won't work on me! Star—" The skeleton's mouth opened and closed, letting out an angry roar.
"Bang bang bang bang bang bang—!!!"
The sound of thousands of bullets striking bone merged into one continuous noise.
Before Fury could finish his sentence, and before he could even take a step into the office, he was blasted straight down to the end of the corridor. The flames covering him began to flicker, showing signs of going out.
Inside the office, Homelander had inexplicably acquired two dramatically styled pistols.
One was jet black, the other pure White like jade.
Ebony and Ivory.
These were "trash" he had drawn from that cursed blind box long ago, which had been gathering dust in his magic space.
But now, these two Demon Hunting Guns revealed their fangs for the first time.
Homelander spun the twin pistols in his hands with flair.
"Hoo—"
He blew on the smoke curling from the muzzles, his gaze contemptuous.
"Flashy nonsense."
He then put the guns back into his magic space and picked up the glass of milk that hadn't quite cooled yet... One minute later.
"Tap, tap, tap."
A cautious knocking sound rang out.
"Come in."
The door was pushed open.
Nick Fury walked in.
Although his clothes were tattered and riddled with bullet holes, he still made an effort to straighten his collar and brush the dust off his sleeves.
He approached the desk, standing ramrod straight instead of sitting.
"Good afternoon, Mr. Starr."
"Good afternoon, Fury."
Fury looked at Homelander with a complicated expression and said, "Your marksmanship... is very interesting."
Homelander leaned back in his chair, examining this brand new Nick Fury with interest.
"Your new skin isn't bad either."
"Although it makes the 'Motherfucker' sound a little less classic, at least it makes you look more like a Republican."
"It was forced," Fury replied expressionlessly, "but at least the result wasn't bad for me."
"Sit down."
Homelander pointed to the chair opposite him.
Fury pulled out the chair and sat down, his body still tense.
The bullet storm just now had left a deep impression on his muscle memory.
"Speak," Homelander said, checking his watch, "My time is precious. You only have one chance."
"HYDRA."
Fury laid out his bargaining chip.
"Although the Insight Project controlled by HYDRA failed, they are planning a larger conspiracy."
"I know their network, and I know their codes. I can help you uproot them completely."
"In exchange..."
Fury looked at Homelander.
"...I need resources. I need Vought's support to rebuild S.H.I.E.L.D."
"Hmph."
Homelander chuckled lightly and shook his head, as if he had heard an absurd joke.
"HYDRA?"
"Fury, have you been hiding in a rat hole for so long that your brain has gone moldy?"
"What the heck is HYDRA?"