Conquering the Multiverse Starting with the Black Robe

"Madeline, what are you doing here?"

When Homelander saw her, his smile remained unchanged, and his tone was unreadable. He went straight to the refrigerator, and when he opened it and saw the baby bottle, he paused.

What he once coveted now appears utterly repulsive to him.

It's unbelievable that I've been sucking like a baby for so many years.

"What have you been doing, darling?"

Madeline spoke gently, radiating a soft maternal glow in the sunlight.

"Seeing an old friend."

The man from the motherland closed the refrigerator and turned around with a smile.

He looked at Madeline, but the image that flashed through his mind was the horrific scene of Vogbaum being drowned by his own hands.

Seeing that Homelander wasn't interested in continuing the conversation, Madeline naturally didn't want to make a fool of herself, so she changed the subject, "Have you heard about the mayor of Baltimore?"

"Of course." Homelander raised an eyebrow.

"I heard he crashed; the engine failed—a terrible accident."

"Yes, it's terrible." Madeline looked intently at Homerman, as if trying to discern something from his face. "In fact, I just spoke to him on the phone last night."

The smile on the man's face gradually froze, and he didn't reply.

Madeline picked up her coffee cup, took a sip, and said, "The Deep Sea told me the truth, and only to me."

He said there were burn marks on the mayor's plane engine, as if caused by two beams of light.

"The distance between them is like the distance between a person's eyes."

deep sea……

Homelander frowned slightly, puffed out his cheeks, and looked gloomy. "Madeline, you might as well just say what you have to say."

Madeline remained composed, maintaining her usual strong-willed demeanor. "You shouldn't be involved in this. Your image is positive and uplifting, and it doesn't include revenge. Like a god bathed in sunlight and cheers, you are pure and flawless."

People in the motherland have heard these words enough, repeated over and over again every day, it feels like they are being brainwashed.

His tone revealed a hint of impatience that he himself was unaware of. "He's already bullying us. Do you want to wait for him to expose the matter of Compound No. 5?"

Madeline, you don't understand these kinds of people. Their shamelessness is far beyond your imagination. He will test your limits again and again, endlessly, because he always holds something on you.

Madeline shook her head slightly, stood up, and walked gracefully to Homelander's side. She naturally reached out, wanting to stroke his cheek as usual, her tone concerned, "Darling, you've been acting strange lately. Are you under too much pressure? Is something bothering you? Tell me, you know I'll always be on your side..."

The man frowned, turned his head away, and avoided the woman's intimate gesture.

Madeline's hand froze in mid-air, and the atmosphere became somewhat awkward for a moment.

She slowly withdrew her hand, assuming he was just throwing a tantrum, and regained her usual composure. "What's wrong, darling? Are you in a bad mood?"

Homelander looked at her, his smile long gone, his blue eyes calm and still. "I'm fine, Madeline. Better than ever."

He straightened up, closed his collar, and his tone became light again, even with a touch of eerie playfulness. "I just... figured some things out and learned some truths."

"Honey……"

Call me Homelander!

Madeline was slightly taken aback by the sudden reprimand.

The man's expression remained calm, but his gaze towards her held a hint of detachment and coldness. "This is my room. I think you should leave."

Madeline was stunned, not understanding what had happened, why the man who had been so obedient yesterday had suddenly changed his attitude towards her completely today.

Her lips parted slightly, as if she wanted to say something, but she was choked back by the undisguised murderous intent in those eyes.

"Right now!"

"Disappear from my sight immediately!"

Madeline was so frightened she couldn't breathe, her face turned pale instantly, she took a few steps back, and then turned and left in a panic.

The people of the motherland turned around.

He walked to the window and looked down at the bustling streets of New York.

A few minutes later.

dong dong dong.

There was a gentle knock on the door, and a woman holding a folder cautiously pushed it open. "Sir, you wanted to see me?"

Homelander, holding a glass of milk, said without turning his head, "Ashley, go and call the Deep Sea to me."

……

Safe house.

In the damp basement, the old television screen flickered.

The screen shows a morning news broadcast, with the male anchor sitting upright and looking solemnly at the camera.

"Recently, a video about the murder of the superhero 'Xuanse' has been widely circulated online. After joint identification by the WART PR Department and the police cyber information department, it has been confirmed that it is a malicious prank video generated by AI."

"The creator of the fake video has been taken into police custody, and we reserve the right to pursue legal action. Furthermore, to debunk the rumors circulating online, we have invited Xuanse himself to appear today to refute them. Let's welcome Xuanse!"

As a sparse round of applause subsided, the camera panned to reveal a dark, silent figure in the frame.

"Blackie" remained silent into the microphone, slowly pulling out a pre-prepared plastic board from his pocket. He scribbled on it with a large marker, then held up a sign to the camera:

FUCK YOU!

French, who was closest to the television, squatted on the ground with his hands on his knees.

He turned to look at Rean, who was leaning back on the tattered sofa with his eyes closed, "Heh. Excuse me, Mr. Rean. I know you killed Xuanse, so what's appearing on TV now isn't his ghost, is it?"

"Don't be stupid, French." Butcher stood to the side, a half-smoked cigarette between his fingers, slowly exhaling smoke. "Obviously, Walter found a mime actor to impersonate Black."

After watching for a while, Butcher flicked away his cigarette butt, grabbed the black leather coat from the chair, and slung it over his shoulder with one hand.

I'm going out for a bit.

"Where to?" Rean opened his eyes.

Butcher grinned wickedly. "I'm going to find my old CIA sweetheart."

Rean looked at him. "Do you think they would take a small medicine bottle that a wanted criminal got from who-knows-where, without any evidence, and declare war on a company whose annual tax revenue is equivalent to the GDP of a small country?"

Butcher knew he wouldn't make things up. "This isn't Gotham. Don't play guessing games. Just tell me what to do."

"Go find the Claw Woman."

"Who is this?"

Rean said calmly, "A third-tier female heroine. You don't need to know anything about her. You only need to know that she is Locomotive's lover and that Locomotive has always entrusted her with the safekeeping of those Compound V items."

"Fuck. French, sounds a lot like your drug-dealing girlfriend." Butcher let out a short chuckle, then clapped his hands and urged, "You guys heard what the boss said. Guys, get moving, let's go."