The Boys: Ultimate Multiversal Lifeform

"Who else could it be? The FBI?" Homelander snapped, already irritated.

This mess was going to cost him more fans. Keep going like this and his poll numbers might dip under ninety. The thought alone made him glare at Ivan.

"How do you plan on fixing this? Want me to go out and apologize, or are we using other methods?"

"I know you’re in a hurry, but hold that thought. Stormfront’s situation is a lot worse than yours right now."

Ivan looked over at Stormfront, who was propped against the headboard reading the New York Daily he’d just handed her.

On the right side of the entertainment section a bold headline jumped out at her.

Unbelievable! Superhero under a major international company exposed as a racist!

Under the headline sat a censored poster. Even with the blur you didn’t need working eyes to recognize the supe in the picture was Stormfront.

The poster had been cut straight from her own promotional shots.

A cold smirk tugged at the corner of Stormfront’s mouth.

"Heh. So they never had any real evidence from the start. The only thing with any weight is the shit I said during the livestream, and that alone can’t take me down. I can just claim it was a slip of the tongue. Hell, I can say someone deliberately twisted my words.

Mr Greevs, this already qualifies as malicious defamation. You’re not suing them?"

"That’s why they never named names. I suggest you check the next article." Ivan’s voice stayed flat.

"Breaking: Stormfront suspected dead. Vanished without a trace after the Philadelphia meet-and-greet."

"That one’s the real headline. People online are claiming you’re already dead. If I’m right, this is the same crew that jumped you. They can’t confirm your condition, so they’re using public pressure to test their theory.

In your current state you’re in no shape to show your face. Not unless you grow that left arm back. Or you can go with option two and strap on a prosthetic. Personally I’d pick the second. Otherwise you’re stuck hiding behind the curtain forever."

Ivan made it clear: Stormfront’s fans and Vought’s fans would never accept a crippled superhero. Their faith would collapse, and Vought International’s stock would collapse right along with it.

Stormfront’s face went pure black. Crackling arcs of electricity flickered along both sides of her head.

"I’ll tear those fuckers into pieces and feed the scraps to dogs."

Her voice dropped the temperature in the room several degrees.

"Come with me."

Homelander’s face was iron. He clapped Ivan on the shoulder.

Once they were outside the medical wing and clear of the base, he finally spoke.

"Billy hasn’t contacted you?"

Ivan pulled out his phone and scrolled to the messages.

"He called four days ago. I missed it. Then three or four more calls, plus a dozen texts. At first he was almost polite, asking if Stormfront was actually dead and when I was going to keep my promise and get Becca out of the secret base.

Given the situation I didn’t answer. So the later messages are just him cursing you and me out. Pretty filthy. Want to read them?"

Ivan held the phone out.

Exactly as expected, Homelander made no move to take it.

"Find them. Kill them. You understand how silencing works." Homelander clasped his hands behind his back, voice ice-cold.

A sewer rat still thought it could negotiate with him. Suicidal idiot.

"As for Stormfront, you bury that shit and keep it buried. Otherwise... I’ve always liked you, Greevs. But the vice-president chair can be filled by anyone. Marketing’s Peter, for example. Or Ashley. She’s been performing very well lately."

The threat hung in the air without needing to be spelled out.

The effect just wasn’t what he’d hoped for.

"Is that so? I’ll do my best then. As for how it turns out, nobody knows. Maybe you should start praying the old man upstairs is feeling generous."

Ivan was already turning to leave when he added, "By the way, you might want to put your focus on fixing the current public shitstorm. Your approval numbers are looking dangerous. Keep sliding and Edgar might strip the team-leader title right off you. Right now the strongest candidate to replace you is The Deep."

Homelander’s face got even uglier.

He also realized Ivan wasn’t nearly as easy to push around as he’d thought. So he pulled out his phone and dialed Ashley.

A few seconds later her voice came through.

"Homelander, what can I do for you?"

"Pull everything you’ve got on Greevs. Where he lives, family, girlfriend, the works. Every scrap you can dig up." If he couldn’t control Greevs directly, he’d go after the people around him. He’d already perfected the method on Queen Maeve. That was exactly how he kept her in line.

"What... sorry, I didn’t catch that. You want me to investigate Mr Greevs, the Vice President of Vought? I must’ve misheard."

On the other end Ashley broke out in a cold sweat. She swallowed hard and started twisting a lock of her long blonde hair, silently praying she’d heard wrong. Even with three extra sets of balls she wouldn’t dare dig into her own boss.

"You heard me fine. Greevs."

Snap. A whole chunk of hair came out in her fist. Ashley stared at the blonde strands between her fingers, on the verge of tears.

"Mr Greevs is the Vice President of Vought International. I don’t even have the clearance to look into him."

Hearing the tremor in her voice pissed Homelander off so bad he wanted to laser her face through the phone. He’d been an idiot bringing her back to the company in the first place. He’d expected her to claw for power against Greevs. Instead the mere name made her piss herself.

"I don’t care how you do it. You’ve got thirty minutes."

The line went dead.

Ashley collapsed into her office chair, still holding the Deep proposal she’d planned to show off in front of Vice President Greevs. Now what the hell was she supposed to do?

"Fuck it. I can’t afford to piss Homelander off either. Just Google the bastard." She brushed the hair off her hands, opened the browser, and searched Greevs. In under a minute she found his short bio on the official Vought site.

It was even shorter than hers. No family, no useful details of any kind. Finally she tracked down some guy on a forum who claimed to have been Greevs’ high-school classmate, transferred him twenty bucks, and got a few scraps.

The second she had something she called Homelander back.

"Homelander, from what I could find, Greevs immigrated to the States fifteen years ago with his grandfather from France. After the old man died he lived alone. No other family in America. As for a girlfriend, nothing turned up. My guess is he doesn’t have one. If he did the paparazzi would’ve already plastered it everywhere..."

Beep-beep-beep!!!

The call cut off cold. Ashley blinked at the phone, completely lost.

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Read 12 Advance Chapters—P@t- Captain69