The distance between them slowly closed.
Once they were close enough, Homelander dropped to one knee, his face twisted in humiliation and barely contained panic.
As if on the verge of breaking down completely, he reached out with shaking hands and began fumbling at The Deep's pants.
Black Noir and The Deep immediately turned their heads away in stiff silence.
Ashley, however, after her initial shock, hesitated only briefly before watching with unsettling focus. Her lips twitched, as if she were struggling not to laugh.
"Stop, please, stop!" Homelander begged, his voice cracking.
He fought with everything he had, but his hand still pushed past layers of fabric.
It touched the one thing he least wanted to feel in that moment.
Worse, his fingers started to pull.
"No… no…"
Tears spilled freely down his face.
Homelander's cheeks were soaked, and in that instant, he looked less like a god and more like a helpless child being tormented beyond endurance.
Then, without warning, the invisible force controlling him loosened.
"How disgusting," Malrick said coldly from the end of the conference table, his eyes filled with disdain. "A grown man crying because he was humiliated."
Malrick glanced at Homelander with open contempt.
"Enough. I'm not as depraved as you people are. You can stand up."
He released his hold completely, refusing to force Homelander to cross that final line.
For a brief moment earlier, Malrick had felt as though he himself was being dragged into the scene, and the sensation had been unbearable.
"R-really?" Homelander froze, disbelief written all over his face.
Slowly, he pulled his hand back, then stood upright with stiff, uncertain movements.
Only after confirming that his body was fully his again did he hurriedly put distance between himself and The Deep.
The Deep let out a breath he did not realize he was holding and scrambled behind A-Train and the others.
He failed to notice the murderous intent in Homelander's eyes as they locked onto him.
That killing intent vanished instantly when Homelander turned to Malrick, replaced by a strained, submissive smile.
"Sir, I don't know what you want…"
"Relax," Malrick replied calmly. "We're not finished yet."
He smiled faintly and pointed to A-Train's seat. "Homelander, sit."
Homelander nodded at once and rushed forward to comply.
"Sir, sir…" He did not even bother wiping his tears, his hands trembling as he rubbed his thighs beneath the table. "I don't know why you were sent here, but everything we do is for the company. Any misunderstandings can be talked through."
"I'm not with Vought," Malrick said, leaning back and resting his boots casually on the table as his chair rocked slightly. "That much should be obvious."
He paused, then added casually, "I'm hungry. Make me a bowl of beef noodles."
Homelander blinked. He had never even heard of the dish.
His mouth twitched as he prepared to explain that he could not cook and had no idea what that even was.
Then his eyes met Malrick's.
In that instant, Homelander felt as though he were staring into something vast and endless.
His vision went dark.
It felt like his entire body had fallen into an infinite void, his consciousness dragged downward without end.
The sensation only stopped when Malrick smiled and casually asked Butcher whether he wanted a bowl too.
Homelander gasped as if surfacing from deep water, his heart slamming violently in his chest.
"I… okay," he said quickly, nodding again and again. "The Deep and I will take care of it right now."
He stood, shot Ashley and The Deep a sharp glare, and marched out of the War Room with them.
Once the door closed behind them, Butcher burst out laughing.
"Bloody hell," he said, grinning widely. "I like you, kid. You remind me of Hughie, only with a hell of a lot more bite."
He leaned back, eyes narrowing with interest. "You really not from Vought? If that's the case, why let that bastard off so easy?"
"It wasn't mercy," Malrick replied evenly. "There was nothing to let off."
He turned his gaze toward A-Train. "You lot don't seem too worried about Homelander. Since we're waiting anyway, how about a bet?"
A-Train and Black Noir straightened instantly, shaking their heads in silence, clearly unwilling to get involved.
"A bet?" Butcher asked, intrigued. "About what?"
"In my experience," Malrick said calmly, "beef noodles come with chopped green onions. Let's see if Homelander add that."
Butcher stared at him for a second before laughing. "Green onions? This is New York. No one puts that in anything."
Malrick's expression did not change. "If they forget, I kill them all. If they added it, they live, and we continue searching for Compound V."
"Fair enough," Butcher said, clapping once. "I like the sound of that."
A-Train and the others exchanged uneasy looks but dared not object.
---
In the elevator, Homelander's restraint snapped.
"Go to PR and Security," he snarled. "I don't care how, just find a way to deal with that man."
He tightened his grip on The Deep's collar while yanking Ashley by her wig.
"And you," he continued, eyes glowing red, "get to the kitchen and make those damn noodles."
Both of them nodded frantically.
"What about you?" Ashley asked weakly.
Homelander clenched his jaw. "I'm going to find out where he came from."
The elevator dinged and stopped at the kitchen floor.
"I'll handle the food," The Deep said quickly, rushing out.
Homelander was about to issue another threat when his ears twitched.
He heard everything.
The conversation in the War Room echoed clearly in his mind.
His face darkened. "That bastard really can kill me," he muttered. "And he knows it. What the hell is he?"
He grabbed The Deep again, lifting him off the ground.
"Listen carefully," Homelander hissed. "Put chopped green onions in the noodles. Don't screw this up."
The Deep had no idea what that meant, but he nodded desperately.
Homelander turned to Ashley. "Go to my quarters. Get a dose of Compound V."
Ashley obeyed without question.
They split up as the elevator doors slid shut.
Half an hour later, they regrouped.
Homelander's expression was grim. He had found nothing on Malrick.
The Deep carried a bowl of beef noodles, steam rising from the surface. Chopped green onions floated on top.
"A chef in the kitchen made it," he said nervously. "It should be fine."
Ashley held a container of Compound V, documents tucked beneath her arm.
"PR reviewed the footage," she whispered. "They think he cares about justice and reputation. If that's true, we might be able to control him that way."
Homelander sneered.
That was exactly how Vought had controlled him.
"Let PR do their job," he said coldly. "We'll prepare something else."
He took a step forward.
"It's time to face him again."
Ashley followed closely behind, her lips curling into a faint, uneasy smile.
---