Why should I fear death?
If I am, then death is not.
If death is, then I am not.
Why should I therefore fear that which cannot exist when I do?
~ Epicurus
____
"Hello, Mr Guardian. I’m Faceless Man. My superpower is changing identities."
Vought Tower.
Ashley had called in another batch of supes, all of them trying out for The Seven.
Before Hillel could say a word, Homelander lost it.
"I’ve seen a reel about you! Get out! You loose-sphinctered faggot, I don’t need some shitty hero who drops turds from his ass while he’s fighting."
Ryan immediately covered his ears, but it was already too late. His biological father’s voice had already blasted straight into his head.
Annie January yanked Ryan to her side and covered his ears for him.
"Homelander, there are children here!"
Homelander finally noticed and waved a hand like it was no big deal.
It just proved Hillel’s read on him was still dead on.
Maeve sat off to the side, rubbing her forehead and refusing to look.
"Next."
Hillel waved them on.
Another supe walked in from the hallway.
This one was a man wearing a blindfold. Soft face, looked like the world’s nicest guy.
"I’m Blindspot. Born blind, but I’ve got super hearing."
He sounded confident.
Then he turned toward The Guardian in the center seat.
"You must be The Guardian. Your heartbeat sounds like an earthquake."
Hillel nodded.
Blindspot turned to Homelander next.
Homelander looked bored out of his mind and shot Ashley a glare that said, "If you’re getting paid to do this job, at least bring in some decent ones."
Homelander thought: Either they shit themselves or they’re blind. The Seven wasn’t a fucking support group for the disabled.
"Alright. Show us what you can do."
Hillel made the call.
Blindspot grabbed a long spike from the weapon rack they had set up. He moved fast for a blind guy, closed in on the training dummy, and hurled the spike. It punched straight through the dummy’s skull.
Good force. Good accuracy.
"Wow!"
Hillel started clapping.
This blind guy actually had something.
Homelander stared like he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. "You’re not seriously thinking about letting this blind guy into The Seven, are you?"
Blindspot froze where he stood. He couldn’t believe those words had just come out of Homelander’s mouth.
"What does it matter? He doesn’t have eyes, but he can still ’see’."
Hillel tapped the table. "He doesn’t have to join The Seven. We can put him in the Vought Supe Crime Investigation Division. We use everything we’ve got. Everyone in the right spot."
Homelander opened his mouth to argue again.
Hillel cut him off. "Think how disciplined he must be to train to such an extent, much better than those drug-addicted supes with eyes, right? Alright, I’ve said my piece. Any objections?"
The Guardian’s eyes moved across the table one by one.
A-Train dropped his head like a quail trying to disappear.
Maeve didn’t vote. She just stared at the lines on her palm.
Starlight half-raised her hand for her boyfriend.
Ashley looked down at her own toes and wondered if she should get a boob job.
"Fine. Fine. Fine. You win."
Homelander crossed his arms and sulked.
After they led Blindspot out, the next one stepped in.
A fat guy, easily over two hundred kilos, steaming like he just stepped out of a sauna. Every step left a scorch mark on the floor. His skin was bright red.
"Hello! My superpower is extreme heat. My body temperature can hit three hundred degrees!"
The fat guy looked proud of himself.
"This power’s not bad," Hillel said. "So, how do you use it for catching a criminal?"
Everyone at the table turned to stare at him.
"Ehm, I can’t run to catch a criminal because of my weight..."
"So you expect the criminal to stay by your side while you heat him up?"
The fat guy shook his head. "Oh, no, sir! I can shoot my heat on him if he is running away!"
"Oh? Can you breathe fire like Lamplighter?"
Another head shake.
"Hmm? Heat vision, then?"
The fat guy showed a foolish smile, "Hehe.. Actually, I can masturbate and hit a running target with my heat projectile—"
Homelander: "..."
Maeve: "..."
Starlight: "..."
"Get the fuck out!"
Hillel waved without wasting a second.
Homelander suddenly spoke up. "I think instead of letting these losers take up space, we should just push my son Ryan into The Seven. We’re missing a teenage hero anyway."
"Let’s wait until Ryan’s a few years older."
Hillel went with the stall tactic.
Once Ryan could turn into a mental version of Henry Cavill’s Superman, he could take Homelander’s spot.
...
The next one through the door was a tall, thin guy in a green bodysuit that looked like he was trying to copy The Deep.
With a fish tank on his head.
Another fish-related freak. Homelander had already lost the will to keep watching.
"I’m Jellyfish Man. I can breathe underwater and control jellyfish!"
"Jellyfish?"
Hillel raised an eyebrow. "Only jellyfish?"
"Yes. Any kind of jellyfish will listen to me."
"Ashley, this guy’s got talent. Transfer him to the Vought Supe Crime Investigation Division."
Homelander: "What the fuck!!"
Hillel gave his reason. "This guy can handle assassination work. Some jellyfish are extremely venomous. People can die without making a sound."
"Ashley!"
Homelander barked her name.
Ashley shrank into herself. She’d developed a reflex where just hearing Homelander’s voice made her tense up.
"Do you think my time and The Guardian’s time are worthless? What kind of sewer-tier heroes are these losers? When you pick people, pick actual good ones!"
Hillel waved it off. "Alright, alright. No need to look at the rest. This whole batch is garbage. If we were recruiting for Supe Crime Investigation Division or any other miscellaneous divisions, it would be good. Sadly, we are not; we’ve got people for that, right? We are here to recruit for The Seven, so make sure to keep your bar high!"
Jellyfish Man backed out with tears of gratitude in his eyes.
At least he landed a high-paying job.
Ashley wiped the sweat off her forehead and pulled a tablet out of her bag.
"The Guardian, I actually have a few really strong candidates prepped, but they couldn’t make it today. I’ve got their files here..."
She worked the tablet quickly and projected everything onto the big screen. The legendary stress-resistance queen was still performing at a high level even now.
The screen lit up with a file.
The photo showed a woman.
"This is Sister Sage. Her superpower is super intelligence."
Homelander looked at the woman on the screen—slightly chubby, short, very average-looking, dreadlocks—and her power was listed as super intelligence.
He couldn’t help it. He laughed.
Laughed until he got angry.
"Ashley, did a moron fuck your brain?"
Ashley didn’t process it right away.
"Sir, what did you just say?"
Homelander stood up, walked to the window, and started breathing hard.
He felt like he was surrounded by apes. Powerless. Like he couldn’t reach inside anyone’s skull.
"Sir, I didn’t explain it properly. According to Vought’s tests, her IQ is off the charts. The upper limit for normal geniuses is around two hundred. She’s completely beyond that. She’s the next Einstein, sir!"
After Ashley finished, Hillel couldn’t hold it in either. He started laughing like a pig.
The prize pool was still stacking.
Ashley got more nervous the more she tried to explain.
"These are real numbers. Her super intelligence isn’t just calculation and logic. It includes super memory, pattern recognition, and even precise predictive ability."
"Alright, Ashley." Hillel cut her off.
"Invite Miss Sage to come work at Vought. Tell her Homelander personally requested her."
Even with all the Sister Sage buffs stacked on her, this was still outside the show. In the real The Boys world, her IQ was still formidable as hell.
Precise predictive ability?
Hillel couldn’t hold back. He let his teeth out to cool off again.
____
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