"Today, through the heroic and tireless efforts of Vought's greatest superheroes, Homelander, Vanguard, and Stormfront, we successfully repelled the catastrophic attack of a rogue supe-terrorist also known as the leviathan.
While we deeply mourn the tragic loss of innocent American lives, Vought International remains unwavering in its commitment to the public. We are already coordinating comprehensive financial compensation and long-term medical care for all individuals and families affected by this devastating conflict."
Edgar spoke with his practiced, effortless calm into the wall of press microphones. The briefing room had been dead silent, thick with anticipation, but the moment he finished his statement, the peace shattered.
The room exploded. Flashes from dozens of cameras blinded the stage as a chaotic barrage of questions was hurled at the podium. Edgar slowly looked over the frantic crowd, raised a single finger, and pointed directly at a reporter in the front row. The room fell into a tense hush to hear the question.
"Mr. Edgar, where are Homelander and Vanguard?" the reporter pressed instantly. "Neither of them has been seen since the clash. Eyewitness footage from the beach showed Homelander looking deeply disturbed after the Leviathan was defeated, right before he abruptly flew away with the corpse. Can Vought explain his behavior, and where he took the body?"
"Isn't it obvious?" Edgar countered smoothly. His tone carried a quiet, polite condescension that instantly made the reporter's question feel entirely foolish. "Isn't that the entirely natural reaction of a man with Homelander's immense heart and protective temperament? He was just forced to take the life of a boy, a young man who had yet to even reach adulthood."
Edgar paused, letting a heavy silence settle over the room before continuing.
"Homelander was profoundly shaken because, beneath the manufactured terror, this boy was broken beyond measure. Vought has compiled accounts from survivors who encountered the Leviathan, and they match Homelander's own accounts. While this individual displayed terrifying prowess during the conflict, in his final moments, the violent conditioning imposed by his creators simply... broke. He was deeply disturbed, and, in a tragic way, entirely innocent.
In fact, I myself am one of those survivors.
When the Leviathan breached Vought Tower and forced his way into my private office, he did not attack me. He did not threaten me. Now, given the immense, catastrophic loss of life we witnessed today, it may sound foolish, perhaps even profoundly insensitive, for me to say this, but the boy exhibited distinct moments of peace when left entirely to his own devices.
When he reached my office, he simply sat down. We talked. I was entirely certain I would survive that afternoon, yet he showed no malice whatsoever. It was only when Homelander arrived that the boy's violent conditioning was forcefully triggered once again.
In fact, the boy's final words to our heroes were: 'I love the sea. It would be very kind of you if you threw my body into the waves.'
You see, ladies and gentlemen, our premier hero flew away to afford that tragic young man the dignity of a private, quiet rest, far from the spectacle of a media circus."
As Edgar stepped back slightly from the microphones, a heavy silence blanketed the room. The chaotic sea of flashing cameras went entirely dark. Even the most cynical, veteran journalists stood completely spellbound, so disarmed by the sheer gravity of the narrative that their aggressive follow-up questions evaporated right on their tongues.
For a long moment, no one knew what to ask. The sharp, predatory energy of the press vanished, replaced by an awkward quiet. Feet shifted uncomfortably against the carpet and notebooks rustled as the reporters looked at one another, utterly paralyzed by the story they had just been fed.
"Mr. Edgar, you mentioned the boy's 'creators' and his 'conditioning," A Russian reporter pressed, stepping forward. "If Vought International is the sole producer and gatekeeper of Compound V, who exactly created the Leviathan? Are you admitting on global television that there is a rogue organization out there manufacturing weaponized superheroes?"
For months, Vought had been subtly pointing the finger at foreign adversaries, specifically Russia and China, for the sudden rise of global supe-terrorists.
But the political landscape had fundamentally shifted. Ever since Starlight leaked the truth about Compound V to the public, the press knew Vought's monopoly on the truth was fractured. It was the perfect opportunity to hit the mega-corporation back with its own web of lies.
Edgar didn't blink. He simply adjusted his glasses, looking down at the bribed journalist. The man was on Vought's secret payroll, and he was playing his part in Edgar's political theater flawlessly.
"A predictable line of questioning, Mr. Volkov," Edgar replied smoothly, his voice cutting through the room. "But you are operating on outdated parameters. You refer, of course, to the deeply unfortunate security breach orchestrated by our former member of the seven, Annie January. The illegal, treasonous distribution of our proprietary chemical formulas is a matter of public record."
Edgar leaned forward, gripping the edges of the podium.
"It is precisely because of that reckless espionage that dangerous, unvetted bio-assets have fallen into the hands of hostile, rogue factions. Factions that, I might add, completely lack the rigorous ethical standards and stabilization protocols practiced by Vought. The Leviathan was the tragic byproduct of stolen American science handled by desperate amateurs. If anything, today's tragedy proves that the world needs Vought's oversight now more than ever to clean up the messes made by those who stole from us. Next and final question."
"Mr. Edgar," another reporter spoke up, leaning into the aisle, "eyewitness audio from the beach captured the sounds of a brutal, violent struggle right up until the very end. If Homelander truly saw this boy as an innocent victim, why did the termination look so aggressively violent? Was there truly no way to safely pacify him?"
"Regrettably, no," Edgar replied without a second of hesitation, his voice flat and unshakeable. "And we must look at the grim, mathematical reality of the situation. This individual had already claimed countless precious lives across Hartford, through Florida, and now on this very coast. At Vought International, we believe that all life is equal, and the lives of American citizens must always take priority."
Edgar shifted his gaze across the room, letting his words sink in before dropping the corporate hammer.
"Based on my own personal prediction the boy's psychological conditioning included a highly volatile fail-safe. The moment he sensed Homelander's presence, his cognitive and social functions seemed to collapsed entirely, forcing him into a reckless, unstoppable kill-mode. Had Homelander hesitated, had he attempted a gentle, non-lethal pacification, the resulting delay would have cost dozens, perhaps hundreds, more innocent lives. The aggression you saw on that beach wasn't cruelty, ladies and gentlemen. It was the lightning-fast precision required to end a massacre. Homelander made the ultimate, agonizing choice to bear that emotional burden so that no more American families would have to grieve."
He calmly stepped back from the podium "Thank you. That will be all for today."
Edgar didn't slow his stride, looking straight ahead as he unbuttoned his suit jacket. "Ashley," he said. "The market's reaction. Did we claw back to the baseline?"
"Mr. Edgar, sir, it didn't just return to the original price," Ashley said, as she held the tablet up toward him. "We've entirely bypassed the previous baseline. The second you quoted the final words, the trading algorithms went completely wild. Vought International stock hasn't just recovered, it has surged by one hundred and fifty percent. It's the highest single-day jump in company history! You were absolutely magnificent today, sir!"
"I am aware," Edgar replied smoothly. A faint smile forming on his lips, but it vanished just as quickly as it appeared, "Is he still in his quarters with the corpse?"
Ashley swallowed hard, the corporate high instantly evaporating into pure terror. "Yes, sir. It's been three days. He hasn't left the room. He hasn't allowed anyone in, and nothing has come out."
"Even better," Edgar murmured.
The rest of The Seven were utterly paralyzed by fear, treating the upper executive suites like a haunted house and refusing to leave their quarters. Meanwhile, Vanguard and his father hadn't exchanged a single word in seventy-two hours.
The lovely, perfect family dynamic that had threatened Vought's stability was completely fractured. The foundational bond between father and son was cracked; now, it would only take one final, deliberate push to separate them for good.
Granted, it would take a great deal more effort to firmly secure the leash around Vanguard's neck. It would take an even greater effort to eventually push the boy to terminate the deeply defective product that was his father. But the seed had been planted. All that remained was to take slow, gentle steps along a razor's edge.
Everything was perfect. More than perfect.
Thank you, Aldrich, he thought. Thank you for your service.
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