Starting from scratch, Batman crushed my dream of getting rich

Chapter 485 Homelander of KFC
Homelander didn't understand what Superman meant by what he was saying.

He grew up under the influence of the Vought Corporation and joined the Seven at a young age. Madeline had told him time and time again that as a hero, no, as a god, he should be pure, perfect, and supreme.

That's how it should appear to others, at least.

He often felt confused and conflicted because Madeline told him to be pure and perfect, yet she did not impose any restrictions on his private conduct behind the scenes; she told him to be supreme, yet she also told him to obey the Vought Corporation's arrangements; she told him to be a hero, yet it seemed she only wanted to put him in a beautiful shop window as a symbol of an exhibition, never letting him have much contact with ordinary people.

"No, no, I still don't understand."

Homelander didn't want to listen to Clark anymore. With each additional word Clark spoke, the figure in the red cape became more and more glaring to him. Seeing that he had no chance to kill the Baltimore mayor who dared to threaten Madeline, he lost all desire to talk and flew straight toward the Vought Building.

Rather than saying he didn't want to understand what Clark was saying, it's more accurate to say he didn't want to understand. His life for the past thirty years had been built on what Madeline had told him, and what Superman was saying was a complete denial of his past life.

Children usually don't listen to adults' reprimands, and the character Madeleine cultivated for her homelanders is not much better than that of a child.

“Superman is a complete idiot,” he thought to himself. “I’ve done so much for Vought International, I’m the most successful superhero in the world, I’m a god, and I know exactly what ordinary people are like.”

“I should be above everyone else. Those suit-wearing bastards on the 82nd floor of the Water Corporation, with a few worthless pieces of paper proving their high academic qualifications, dare to use me as a tool. But what’s the difference between them and ordinary people?”

"They should listen to me, not the other way around."

This thought had been brewing in his mind for a long time, and it had become increasingly intense in recent years, much like a teenager entering a rebellious phase, with his growing self-awareness making him increasingly unwilling to be restrained.

The only difference is that the most impulsive choice teenagers can make during their rebellious phase is to run away from home, while Homelander has the ability to use heat vision to slice the Baltimore mayor's family's plane in half.

As he pondered those rebellious thoughts over and over, the emotions of the man from the motherland grew stronger, and he still did not feel that he had done anything wrong.

He received a message from Madeline the next morning, requesting that she come upstairs immediately to talk.

The moment Homelander stepped into the interview room and saw the dissatisfaction on Madeline's face, his righteous indignation deflated like a punctured balloon.

He could never be assertive in front of Madeline because she held a special place in his heart.

“This morning, Steve called me.” Madeline’s smile held a hint of coldness, like a homeroom teacher smilingly calling a struggling student to the office: “He said he thanked me for sending Homelanders to escort him in his private plane.”

Homelander lowered his head, remaining silent, looking just like a schoolchild being scolded. If Superman hadn't seen this, he might have been able to feign composure and offer a few words of explanation. But now, not only had he failed to accomplish his goal, he had also failed to keep it a secret.

"Tell me, Homelander, were you really there to escort them?"

“I heard him blackmailing you through the wall.”

"And then what? You're just going to go and kill him?"

"But I did this for you."

“I’m glad you have this idea, but you know what day it is tonight, right?”

Homelander was speechless. He sighed in disappointment, not wanting to be criticized any further, so he changed the subject.

"How did that guy know about Compound V?"

"I won't talk to you about this."

“Why not? I love Vought just as much as you do, and I can do so much more for it.” “You’ve already done so much; you’ve brought Vought over $12 billion in profits.”

"Yeah, all the money and credit went to those bastards upstairs. They only left us a few scraps and crumbs, and we're supposed to be grateful for that."

“I know, I know you feel indignant for me, but right now I need you to do what's in front of me.”

The grievances and bitterness welling up in the hearts of the people of the motherland almost overwhelmed him.

"Yeah, yeah, putting on a cool and charismatic act and reciting my lines, that's what I'm best at, isn't it?"

At that moment, he vividly felt the sensation of being used as a tool, and the other party was Madeline, which was the reason he felt wronged.

"All you need to do is let me protect you."

Will you protect me?

“I will. As long as you listen to me, I can help you maintain the image of a god in front of others—pure, perfect, and supreme.”

Madeline reached out a hand and gently stroked Homelander's cheek.

As the man looked at her face and eyes, it was like a teenager looking at the adult woman he admired. A hazy feeling lingered in his heart, a mixture of security, admiration, confusion, and a touch of instinctive possessiveness. The intertwined emotions made him smile.

If it were a teenager, this feeling might be described as the innocent emotions of youth, but when it comes to someone in their thirties, it quickly veers into the sordid and shrewishness of adulthood.

His gaze fell on Madeline's chest.

"We need to get rid of him as soon as possible."

The black car sped down the road, and the butcher was revving the engine. He had changed into a new black trench coat, the bloodstains on his face had been washed away, and there was not a single wound on his body, but his expression was somewhat gloomy.

“The Vought Corporation implanted chips in each of the seven men. We dragged him to the basement of the bar yesterday and spent the night there, but this trick can’t hide from Vought for long. We need to find someone who can solve this problem immediately.”

"You mean someone who can remove the chip?" Ma Zhaodi yawned. "That's amazing."

"I mean someone who can kill the Invisible Man."

"No, we can't kill them yet."

squeak--

The wheels screeched as they rubbed against the road surface. The butcher slammed on the brakes and pulled the car over to the side of the road.

“If you’re looking for death, then go ahead.” He sneered, “Get out of the car now with Invisible Man. I’ll collect your body after Homelander finds and kills you.”

“That won’t do.” Ma Zhaodi shook his head: “Do you remember the agreement in the basement? I’ll deal with the Invisible Man and rescue you, and you’ll be my cannon fodder.”

"I*****"

(End of this chapter)