THE BOYS: The Wrong Main Character

THE BOYS: The Wrong Main Character

Hughie had only stepped out to buy lunch.

The television hanging inside the sandwich shop was showing nothing except emergency coverage of the Devil’s broadcast.

Every channel carried the same footage — the vial of Compound V, the fish tank, analysts desperately trying to explain what had happened.

Hughie stood frozen. "What the fuck..."

The bag nearly slipped from his hand. A minute later, he was sprinting back to the hideout.

When he pushed open the door, M.M. was already sitting in front of the television with his arms crossed. Frenchie stood beside him, smoking while news anchors argued over one another.

"That guy made one hell of a mess," M.M. said.

There wasn’t much anger in his voice — if anything, he sounded impressed. For years, Vought had controlled every story that reached the public. One broadcast had undone decades of careful work.

Butcher wasn’t paying attention to the television. Something else bothered him. Mark hadn’t been with them at Cincinnati.

He hadn’t seen the babies or watched nurses inject Compound V into newborns. Yet he already knew what it was — and he had a sample. That wasn’t information someone picked up by accident.

Who the hell are you, really?

He pushed the question aside. Whatever Mark’s secrets were, the situation benefited him. Raynor couldn’t ignore him now.

Half the country was demanding answers and Vought had no prepared response. With enough pressure, somebody in Washington would eventually be forced to move.

For the first time in years, Butcher felt like the bastards were losing ground.

***

Inside Vought Tower.

Stan Edgar stood before the massive display showing Vought International’s stock price. The numbers continued falling. Stillwell stood across from him with a folder in her hands.

"Tell me," Stan said evenly, "why this man is still free to do as he pleases after repeatedly interfering with company operations."

Stillwell kept her expression under control. "We’re investigating the situation."

"Investigating is not the same as solving." His tone never changed — that was what made it unpleasant.

"And while we’re investigating, I would also like an explanation for how an outsider obtained knowledge of Compound V and managed to acquire a physical sample."

Stillwell had no answer. The secret had survived for decades — generations of executives, politicians, and shareholders. This morning it had been broadcast live to millions of Americans.

Stan sat in his chair and opened a report.

"You may leave. Send Homelander to my office."

Stillwell quietly left. Five minutes later, Homelander entered and, without waiting for permission, took a seat across from Stan.

"Homelander," Stan said, "do you know what the greatest success in this company’s history is?"

Homelander didn’t hesitate. "Me. I’m the most successful hero in the world. The face of Vought. America’s greatest superhero."

Stan looked at him for a moment. "No."

The single word changed the atmosphere immediately.

"Our greatest success was never you. It was never the Seven, never our films or our public image." He placed the Compound V research file on the desk.

"The greatest success in this company’s history is Compound V. Everything else exists because of it — every superhero, every billion dollars in revenue, every government contract, every ounce of influence we possess. You are the result of that product. Not the other way around."

Stan’s voice remained perfectly calm.

"Vought is not a superhero company. It is a pharmaceutical company. The heroes are our most successful product, but they are still products."

"Compound V is the foundation beneath everything we have built. And our greatest secret has now reached the public." He paused. "Do you know why?"

Homelander leaned back. "Because a lunatic hijacked a news station and decided to put on a show?"

"You really don’t know?"

"I know one thing," Homelander said. "Without me, none of this exists."

"The Seven, the movies, the merchandise, the military contracts — I’m the face of this company. People trust Vought because they trust me."

Stan let the silence linger. "They trust an image we created."

"You are extraordinarily valuable, Homelander, but do not confuse value with ownership. The company existed before you and will continue to exist after you."

Homelander’s jaw tightened. "You think this is my fault?"

Stan folded his hands. "Don’t you?"

The question irritated him far more than an accusation would have.

"You have been moving Compound V behind my back."

"You had A-Train distributing it to terrorist organizations to create supervillains — you wanted the public frightened enough to accept superheroes in the military. You wanted a threat that only the Seven could solve."

Homelander maintained his smile, though it no longer reached his eyes.

"Of course I knew," Stan said. "And that operation collapsed. The people involved disappeared, died, or were exposed. If even one vial escaped, then this Devil may have obtained Compound V because of your actions."

"So you’re blaming me," Homelander said.

"I’m assigning responsibility. There is a difference."

"He attacked Compound V. And if your side project helped put that weapon in his hands, then you have contributed more to this crisis than anyone else in this building." Stan’s eyes didn’t move from him.

"Clean up the mess you made."

Homelander slowly rose from his chair. For a moment he simply looked at Stan with the kind of stillness that usually preceded something catastrophic.

Stan Edgar didn’t react. He remained seated behind his desk, hands resting on the reports in front of him, utterly indifferent — and that indifference was the one thing Homelander couldn’t intimidate his way through.

To everyone else, he was the most powerful man on the planet. To Stan, he was Vought’s most valuable asset. Nothing more.

A dry laugh escaped Homelander. "Right. I’ll clean it up."

Stan gave a small nod. "I know you will."

Homelander turned and walked out. The moment the doors closed behind him, the composure dropped.

His fist slammed into the concrete wall of the corridor, cracks spreading across the surface like a spider web. He stared at the damage for a moment before lowering his hand.

He hated the Devil. He hated the mess surrounding Compound V.

A/N : There will be Minor crossover and the next world is Jujutsu Kaisen

****

A/N: Advanced Chapters are available on Patreon.

👉 /Mark841

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