Conquering the Multiverse Starting with the Black Robe

"So we're just going to stand by and do nothing, letting Walter run rampant and keep people in the dark?" Hughie's tone was bitter, the burning light in his eyes gradually fading, replaced by a deep sense of powerlessness engulfing him.

Rean shook his finger, denying his words, "There's no need to be discouraged. There's nothing in this world that's absolutely unsolvable. The reason why it can't be done is simply because the person involved is not capable enough. As long as we kill Homelander first, all problems will be solved."

"Easy for you to say!" Butcher sneered upon hearing this, as if to dampen morale even further, and poured cold water on everyone's enthusiasm. "What can we do? All the weapons on Earth are ineffective, not even nuclear bombs can kill him. Believe me, no one wants to kill that beast more than I do."

"Nuclear weapons won't work, but I can."

In America, bragging is tax-free, and they don't know their own background. Rean looked completely confident, leaving no room for doubt.

His next words were like a shot of adrenaline to everyone: "My original purpose in being secretly created by Vought was to fight Homelander as a backup plan to prevent him from having a brain fart and destroying all of humanity."

The crowd looked at him, infected by his confidence, and immediately began to believe him a little more.

Even Butcher was moved and sat up straight, after all, he knew Rean the most among the three and knew how strong he was.

Seeing that the atmosphere was just right, Rean decided to show off his skills to them, so that no one would keep questioning him. If morale was low, the team would be hard to lead.

He turned his gaze to French, "Shoot me."

"What?"

"Shoot, shoot me in the head." Rean pointed to his head.

"I don't want to hurt you." French felt confused and shrugged.

"You can't hurt me, shoot."

After speaking, Rean took two steps back to prevent stray bullets from injuring others.

"Can…"

Boucher, unable to stand it any longer, chimed in, "Stop talking nonsense, French! I told you to shoot, so just shoot! Where were you when the woman was yelling 'no'?"

"Because he's the boss, not your mother, that's why I can't shoot!" French retorted, but without further hesitation, he drew his pistol from his waist and fired at Rean's shoulder.

A gunshot rang out, and the bullet flew off somewhere unknown.

"I said shoot me in the head, don't you understand English, you Frenchman?"

"This is what you asked for!" French puffed out his cheeks, showing no mercy, and repeatedly pulled the trigger at Rean's head, emptying an entire magazine of bullets.

After a burst of gunfire, Rean was unharmed.

He stepped forward, snatched the smoking pistol from French, and, under everyone's gaze, broke it into pieces with his bare hands. "Conventional firearms are like scrap metal to me. Firearms might be effective against some third-rate superhumans, but against the Seven's Squad, they're no different from toys."

"Our top priority now is to get a lot of money to upgrade our weapons and equipment."

Boucher's mind raced, and he volunteered, "This is easy. Just give me that little blue potion, and I'll trade you a musket for a cannon."

"Butcher, I know you have connections, but we won't cooperate with the CIA. They might have already been completely infiltrated by Vought." Rean decisively refused. His goal wasn't to muddy the waters; involving too many forces could easily lead to self-destruction and a passive position.

"Huh...it seems our boss has his own inside channels." Butcher raised an eyebrow but didn't refute it further.

Rean smiled confidently, "That's right, I have an even better idea."

He turned to Hughie. "Hughie, get ready. You're coming with me. French, take good care of Butcher. Call me if anything happens, and let me know immediately if there's an emergency. I'll be back as soon as possible."

"What? Now? We're not resting?" Hughie let out a groan of surprise. He felt that he had been frightened more today than in his entire life, and he really needed time to recover.

"You can sleep all day tomorrow. But right now, we need to get our hands on the seed money before the police issue an arrest warrant."

"Alright, you're the boss, but I need to go home first." Hughie sighed resignedly and walked towards the door on his own.

"You can't go anywhere now!"

Rean's eyes suddenly sharpened, and his entire demeanor changed abruptly, with an invisible aura emanating from him.

In an instant, Hughie felt an indescribable sense of oppression wash over him like a tidal wave, making it hard for him to breathe.

Rean's voice descended like a mountaintop, "Take one more step towards the door, and I'll break your legs, making you meet your father in a wheelchair. I'm not kidding!"

Rean looked around at everyone with the same gaze, his tone calm but carrying a hint of threatening murderous intent, "What made you mistakenly think that I am an easy person to talk to?"

I can tolerate you in minor matters, but I don't want to see anyone not putting in their best effort, and I certainly don't want to hear any dissenting voices within the team.

He walked up to Hughie, placed his hand on his shoulder, and then slid it down to the back of his neck. With just a little force, he could easily break his cervical vertebrae.

"Hughie, little Hughie, poor Hughie."

What did I do to make you disrespect me like this?

I saved your life and gave you the chance to avenge your beloved, but how have you repaid me?

You ignored my words in front of everyone, making me lose face.

Who gave you the courage to provoke me like this?

Rean's tone was no longer gentle; it was chillingly cold. "This is not a game. We each only have one life, and there is no room for carelessness."

What I need is an elite team, not a rabble. I won't allow anyone to disobey my will. I could punish you right now as a warning to everyone, but I don't want things to get that ugly. It's not that you're so important; it's simply because I don't like a stifling atmosphere. It affects my mood. Do you understand?

"Understood! Absolutely understood, sir!"

Seeing Hughie's terrified expression and frantic nodding, Rean's attitude softened. He withdrew his overflowing energy aura, put on a smile again, and moved his hand away to pat Hughie's face. "Remember, there won't be a next time. When I give an order, you have to obey it obediently. Don't embarrass me again."

Hughie was deathly pale, trembling all over, and stammering, "I'm sorry... sir, I understand what I need to do. I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry..."

French frowned and looked silently at Butcher, who responded by shaking his head and remaining silent.

"That's my good child."

Rean rubbed his dog's head, oblivious to the two people's subtle actions beside him. Even if he had, he wouldn't have cared. He had already achieved his goal. No matter what they thought, as long as everyone respected him and didn't outwardly comply but inwardly defy him, that was enough.

"Go call your father and tell him you're safe and sound. We'll be leaving soon."

Hughie's Adam's apple bobbed, his heart pounding. "...Can I go to the restroom first?"

"Of course, please go ahead." Rean said calmly.

Hughie walked cautiously toward the restroom. As he passed Butcher, Butcher suddenly reached out and grabbed his arm, startling him so much that he leaked a few drops of urine.

"Be smart, kid," Butcher whispered in his ear, his expression unusually serious. "Stop talking about our boss behind his back, and stop disobeying him in public. I don't want to be dragged down with you and turned into a pile of minced meat, at least not now."

After saying that, she gave him a look that said, "You'd better watch yourself."

"..." Hughie nodded tremblingly, but began to regret his choice, feeling as if he had boarded a pirate ship.

Before tonight, he was just an ordinary office worker who shouldn't have gotten involved with these desperados in the first place, but now it's too late...

Hughie hung his head and slunk into the bathroom.

……

Late at night, Water Tower.

A phone rang.

Madeline woke up with a start, frowning as she turned on the lamp and answered the landline on her bedside table.

"It's me, Miss Stewell."

"Steve? What's wrong so late?" Madeline asked, her voice a little hoarse as she adjusted to the light, rubbing her temples with her fingers.

"I saw that breaking news about the 'villain'." The voice on the other end of the phone sounded smug, as if he had caught his arch-rival's little secret. "Your PR team must be swamped, right? In less than two hours, the number of views exceeded one million. Heh, this kind of thing is hard to suppress."

"If you're calling me in the middle of the night just to mock me, then we have nothing to talk about."

"Don't hang up yet, let's speak frankly, Marty."

The man on the other end of the phone lost his smile. "I think there's still a lot of room to lower the 'Nubian Prince' garrison costs. Lower the price further, or I'll expose your secret training of superhumans and your self-directed charade."

Madeline's gaze sharpened, and her tone instantly turned icy. "Steve, we didn't do this ourselves."

"Really? Guess what? I don't care. If you don't lower the price, I'll get the media to give 'Compound Five' a huge publicity stunt. I think taxpayers have the right to know how their beloved heroes turned into monsters in a lab."

Madeline took a deep breath, feeling her headache getting worse. "Fuck you, Steve. $150 million a year. You'd better keep this about Compound V to yourself."

"This price is very reasonable, thank you, Marty. Sweet dreams, my dear."

The phone hangs up.

Madeline sighed, put down the microphone, and pulled the blanket tighter around her.

She didn't notice that her homelander, who was lying on his side with his back to her, had his eyes open the whole time.

A fiery red light burned in his eyes, and he heard every word of the phone conversation.

Reflecting on the day's misfortunes, a surge of anger, like a volcano about to erupt, could no longer be contained.