The makeup team worked tirelessly to keep up with perfection. But honestly, they were lucky a god amongst men allowed them to look at him, much less touch him. So he kept still, careful not to turn one of the useless flesh sacs into a bloody smear.

 

‘Do it,’ a voice called in the back of his mind, but he ignored it. There was one thing that made ads for an armor company, of all things, worth it.

 

“Homelander, can you believe it? We’re going to get to see him do an ad live. I hope he looks at me; how do my boobs look. This is the greatest moment of my life.” The adoration was like water to a man dying of thirst. He needed to hear their worship.

 

The man with an American flag cape moved out of the makeup room, and the audience outside cheered. Homelander pointed to the girl with mouth-watering tits. “You’re all the real heroes.” He gave his iconic grin before stepping on stage.

 

“So I just walk up and punch the guy wearing the suit and call it Homelander approved.” The god of America said with a proud smile on his face.

 

He had rehearsed his lines and movements to perfection, but the normals liked it when he acted like them. The uncertainty was another layer of theatre to sell the legitimacy of a live performance.

 

“Of course, Mr. Homelander, whenever you can, just don’t hurt the guy too much. The armor is only made to stop bullets.”

 

“Of course, Mike, I’ll go easy on him.”

 

He walked up along the green screen when the actor wearing the new suit that was supposed to be better than any bulletproof vest stepped forward without facial protection. The script said he was supposed to punch the guy in the face; they practiced on a helmeted ballistic dummy to ensure he had the force right. He sniffed the air, and the guy didn’t smell drunk or high.

 

“Mike, why isn’t he wearing a helmet. The head is the only part the armor doesn’t cover.”  Homelander said.

 

“That’s right, pop him on the jaw, say the line, and we’re done. Editing will make the magic happen, and we’ll run the ad on fox news tomorrow night at 8pm central.” The crowd cheered, and a few cameras flashed in his direction. Homelander kept his signature smile in place, using his super cheeks to sell it.

 

He could fake it, but he was supposed to hit the guy hard enough to blast him off his feet into a concrete wall. The armor didn’t cover the face, and hitting someone that hard with a helmet would rattle their brains into jelly, something the armor was supposed to protect against somehow. The first test ballistic dummy wearing a bulletproof vest had been reduced to a puddle after his punch. With a helmet, the blow he practiced would still be fatal.

 

It wasn’t that he cared about the guy, but he shouldn’t decapitate someone in front of a live studio audience.

 

“We’re ready, sir; go for it.”

 

The man in the black suit smiled. “I loved you in Homelander Rise of a hero.” That really made him want to say something.

 

“You aren’t wearing a helmet.”

 

“That’s ok; the suit enhances my body; it's like being a supe, but it’s the suit.” The stuntman said. “If this thing didn’t cost 25,000$, I would buy myself one.”

 

Did that insect claim to be like him? His fist tightened.

 

Homelander started to see red at the man’s words. A normal claimed to be up to his level by wearing a latex suit. He smiled into the camera and gave Mike the ok. He reared back and punched hard. The man’s face held up surprisingly well at first.

 

Small disks covering the suit ruptured before the stuntman’s face exploded into paste. Homelander watched the suited torso step backward as blood spurted from the man’s stump. Homelander turned to the camera and smiled.

 

“The cyber suit X1 does not meet the Homelander seal of approval. Maybe the man should have worn a helmet.”

 

…

 

Everything had been perfect. They brought in that overpaid show pony Homelander to sell it to the police and firemen. They had the golden goose a suit that could make anyone super. It was a soft suit that anyone could wear under their clothing. Sure, it was a little expensive to manufacture at their current state. Still, after they made their sales, that would change with the expansion of their operation.

 

Vought fucked him over and offered to buy his company. America’s favorite supe was a fuckup.

 

Homelander ruined Silas’s product, and then Vought put a boot against his neck. The media blamed the accident on his suit failing to meet expectations. Vought jumped at the opportunity to paint him as the villain in the tragedy, and the public ran with it. Before, he had Senators and Generals blowing up his phone to secure orders. Today he had no friends besides those he took with him on the last jump.

 

Silas glared at Gantz, the black ball from his first adventure on the jump chain. It had everything he could need a 3d printer on a level the boys earth wouldn’t have for perhaps hundreds of years, teleportation, and a mobile AI.

 

Marketing was the stake that pierced the heart of Plan A

 

Silas had been legitimate. Sure, he was a system user on a jump chain with his own powers and abilities, but he had tried to be above board. All he did was make a single suit, hire some engineers to reverse engineer it and build one with local materials.

 

He wanted to play fair, and he was played in turn. Fortunately, he was a sole proprietor, so Vought couldn’t buy his company out from under him, and he used a skill called charm to brainwash people into investing in his product. People resist succubi all the time so using his own charm skill was perfectly fair. They gave him endless loans at low-interest rates, but he planned to pay them back, so it was alright.

 

This was a setback, but he would get through it. Silas had a good product that could legitimately help people. He knew he could do good if he tried.

 

A glamoured imp stepped inside with the appearance of a human secretary. “A miss Stillwell here to see you.” 

 

“Who,” Silas asked, and the girl rolled her eyes.

 

“She’s from Vought, the guys who fucked us hard and deep with no lube,” Lily said.

 

“Thanks; what is she here for?”

 

Silas assumed it was to kick them while they were down.

 

“To kick us while we are down,” Lily said.

 

“I was just thinking that,” Silas said.

 

“Yea, we have hung out for too long if our thinking aligns,” Lily said.

 

“I sat her in the tearoom; please don’t keep the woman waiting; she’ll stink up the place. Stillwell has the air of someone important, oh and Homelander is with her craving titty milk.”

 

“Maybe we should have debuted a hard suit instead,” Silas grumbled before following his imp girlfriend. After enough time, they were no longer demon and summoner. Time had changed their relationship to not quite lovers but more than friends. She acted as his secretary and advisor on the long road that was his jump chain.

 

“Taking down Vought economically is going to be harder than I thought. Most of our funding went into marketing to hire that overpaid pretty boy.” Silas said.

 

“I personally find his features rather dull. Blond hair, blue eyes, and a chiseled jaw are so human; where are the horns, tentacles, and thick tail?” Lily asked.

 

Silas felt his lips twitch at her antics. His horns had recently grown in after his human skill entered the apprentice rank. It was an arbitrary level of his skills and a bygone function of his system. He was far from the world governed by his system and under the sway of a techno god that thought him a girl. Anyone with over 10k charisma would look beautiful. After reincarnating as a monster gaining numerous skills, and then being picked up by a Rob, he had grown quite powerful.

 

He kept his glamour up, giving himself the appearance of a middle-aged man balding with a beer gut. While Lily preferred to go for the sexy innocent secretary, Silas tried to make himself look as unattractive as possible. The Rob was most likely watching and didn’t want to encourage the being’s interests.

 

His blindingly green suit sported an amulet of spring dreams that gave off the faintest scent of Irish spring. On his true body, he only wore a soft black bio suit from the original Gantz world. They gave a percentage-based increase instead of a flat increase. The more someone has to work with, the better to a certain point.

 

He stepped into the room and saw Homelander standing to the right of a sitting middle-aged executive-type woman. She smiled with all the smug self-confidence she could manage.

 

“An interesting use of a supe. Do you think he gives you more power in negotiations?” Silas asked.

 

“Now, Mr. Flex, don’t be a sore loser. Your product wasn’t up to Homelander’s seal of approval. You have no one to blame for this stunt but yourself. Didn’t I recommend someone like Starlight or Deep? But you were greedy; you wanted America’s hero.” Madelyn said.

 

“It wasn’t my product that failed to hold his punch to acceptable levels. If your front runner can’t do as he’s told.” The woman dared to raise her hand, but Silas kept speaking. “Then he should be dropped unless he was following orders.” 

 

Silas glanced at the blond whose eyes had started glowing red and snorted. “What, you’re going to murder me in cold blood after ruining my product’s reputation.”

 

“That is an option but not one I prefer. If you would sit down, we can discuss what’s next for us. You have a solid product with bad PR, but my people are good at fixing your situation.”

 

He would rather beat them into paste and rip their pretty boy limb from limb. But he wanted to do things legitimately. So, he kept his mouth shut and sat down. It was hard resisting his bad old ways. There was also the troubling thought that he might be unable to take the guy.

 

“I’m Vought's vice president of hero management, and unfortunately, I was absent during the commercial shooting. We don’t do business in bad faith at Vought; I want to assure you of that. This isn’t some paltry intimidation tactic, no. You have a product that can save lives, and we want to help you get it out to the masses. Right now, you couldn’t pay someone to wear one of your suits.” Madelyn said.

 

“We want you to focus on product while the illegal copy of the ad circulates and when it's old news, we will remarket the suits with a new name with different ads. Vought is prepared to pay off your loans and bring you to lead Flex Co as Vought Materials. You’ll have more funding than you could ever dream of and a chance to do some good.”

 

Silas stood up. “We’re done here; get out.”

 

“Mr. Flex, this is the best deal you’ll get. You owe a lot of money to many dangerous men. How else did you think this was going to end.” A lawyer brought over a stack of papers and a pen.     

 

It seemed he had no choice but to go with plan B.

 

“You might have put the boot on my neck, but it's not over until I stop struggling,” Silas said.

 

“Don’t do this, Mr. Flex; you won’t like the outcome.”

 

“My only sin was paying your company to perform a service. So what’s next will Homelander murder the next man who offers him a Pepsi in a commercial?”

 

“The Pepsi guy didn’t want me to punch him without a helmet.” Homelander said.

 

“We have confirmed that your product is no good. It's incapable of performing the feats you promised. Our video has become the third most recommended under debunking tech.” Madelyn said.

 

“The suits are bio-locked to the first person who puts them on and ruins themselves upon the user’s death. Why would I give you something that was easily reverse-engineered? That’s not the point. I’m not signing my company over to you. Get out of my house. I have a recovery to prepare.”

 

“Who will believe you?”

 

The old executive-type woman stood up before smirking. “Oh, and get ready. I heard from the grapevine the IRS is preparing to audit you. Have a good day Mr. Flex.” Madelyn said.

 

Homelander flashed a smirk and winked before the Vought team left with their papers on his tearoom table. Yan, his Asian lover, accomplice, and friend, walked in with a steaming teapot.

 

“So, what was plan B?” Yan asked.  

 

She gave him a look he knew all too well. They had traveled from the first dungeon together past several dimensions despite the rob’s best efforts.

 

Vought had fucked them hard, throwing his product under the rug and blaming his company’s faulty craftsmanship for the fuckup. It couldn’t possibly be the supe with anger issues. More than Vought Homelander, America’s number 1 hero fucked him hard and deep. So why not return the favor in a manner of speaking.

 

“We’re going into animation. You know I’m a summoner, but did you know my first summons was sunshine fairies.”

 

“You mean the perverted tiny girls that hate the cold,” Yan said.

 

“They also love sugar,” Lily added.

 

“Ok, what are they going to do?” Yan asked.

 

 

Silas opened the door to a room covered in runes. Thousands of fairies moved with an equal number of tablets drawing and animating what he planned to call Homo lander Rise of a Dick.

 

Check out my other work Lecherous Leech