Chapter 11: Negotiating with Edgar
2:00 PM, the street-side café in Brooklyn.
Edgar arrived even more punctually than he had anticipated.
The man who controlled the world’s largest superhero comrcial empire pushed open the café’s glass door, wearing a dark gray turtleneck sweater and black trousers. He ca without any entourage or security, looking as low-key as a university professor on a business trip to New York. If Benjamin hadn’t known exactly who he was, the man could have completely vanished into any crowd on the street.
Edgar sat down across from Benjamin, ordered a black coffee from the waiter, then crossed his hands on the table and looked at the man opposite him.
Benjamin leaned back against his chair, clutching an Aricano that had already gone mostly cold, his posture casual, as if catching up with an old friend.
"Your son killed Black Noir last night," Edgar got straight to the point. "With his bare hands. In the lounge on the thirty-seventh floor of Vought Tower. The security footage caught it clearly; I’ve already had it deleted."
Benjamin took a sip of his coffee, his expression unshifting.
He had already guessed it. The look Holander had left with—the hatred burning in those eyes—needed an outlet.
And his original body itself held a deep grudge against Black Noir; besides Noir, there were several other mbers of Payback. Although he didn’t personally hold a grudge, having inherited the original owner’s body, avenging him wasn’t crossing the line. Besides, those mories were genuinely real in his mind.
Soldier Boy had never bullied a normal person. But in this world of The Boys, full of psychos and freaks, normal people were far too rare. That was exactly why Soldier Boy used to bully people so frequently. Of course, bullying was plain wrong. But forty years of torture was far more detestable than any justified bullying.
"So, you’re here to pin that on ?"
"I’m here to do business." Edgar’s tone was as steady as if he were reading a financial statent. "The current situation is quite simple. The combined strength of you and John—Holander—the two of you together as father and son, is enough to completely erase Vought International from the New York Stock Exchange board. I am not exaggerating; you know what I say is a fact. But by the sa token, we at Vought also have capabilities... well, you understand. However, I am not looking to take the gloves off, because doing so offers absolutely no benefit to us, nor to you."
He paused as his coffee was served. He picked up the cup, took a sip, and continued.
"But I believe we have a better way to resolve this. We do not intend to go to war with you, nor do we intend to go to war with John. Quite the contrary—I want you to return to Vought."
Benjamin set his cup down, his gaze truly focusing on Edgar’s face for the first ti.
"Want to co back?" Benjamin sneered. "Did you forget exactly who sold to those fucking Russians?"
"That was a mistake," Edgar spoke quickly, with almost no pause, as if he had rehearsed this exact sentence repeatedly at so negotiation table. "A terrible decision made by the previous managent. Of course, I am not here to defend it; I am here to propose a new solution."
If I hadn’t watched the original show, I might actually believe him, Benjamin sneered inwardly.
Edgar pulled a folded piece of paper from his pocket, flattened it on the table, and slid it in front of Benjamin. It wasn’t a formal contract, but a handwritten outline of terms. The handwriting was neat and well-structured, clearly written by Edgar’s own hand—or at least personally drafted by him.
"Return to Vought, and enter managent as a Supe," Edgar began to state, tapping his finger on the paper. "Not to join The Seven, but to manage The Seven. Positionally, a brand-new title will be established—the Executive Director of Superhuman Affairs, heading the Departnt of Superhuman Affairs. Your authority will rank higher than any mber of The Seven, including Holander. All mission assignnts, personnel deploynts, and operational approvals will strictly require your signature. On the decision-making hierarchy of superhuman affairs, your rank will be second only to the Board of Directors."
He looked up, his gaze locking directly onto Benjamin.
"In other words, the position I am offering you is above your son."
The café suddenly grew very quiet. An old radio in the corner was playing a jazz tune.
Benjamin, of course, knew exactly what kind of ga Edgar was playing. This old fox never made a losing deal; giving him a seemingly lofty position was actually placing him and Holander on opposite sides of a scale. He would keep Holander in check, and Holander would keep him in check, the two balancing each other out, while Edgar sat dead center on the scale, continuing to act as the puppet master. This was the art of power—the very ga that people like Edgar excelled at.
But Benjamin didn’t call him out on it, because he had his own calculations as well.
"How about you step the fuck down right now, let take your seat, and make the boss of Vought?"
"If the opportunity arises, perhaps you might achieve that." Edgar didn’t refuse; he simply stated a possibility that could manifest in the future.
Looking at Edgar, Benjamin felt a slight stir of interest. He was a transmigrator, after all. If he wanted to get close to Holander, aside from taking him away by brute force, joining Vought was the best alternative.
Furthermore, Benjamin wasn’t the original Soldier Boy; his tastes were perfectly normal. To say he didn’t want to get with Queen Maeve, Starlight, or Victoria Neuman... well, that was an absolute lie. He didn’t know if Starlight had been blackmailed into degrading herself by The Deep yet, but it was probably coming soon. Whether it was dealing with Holander or enjoying life, Benjamin needed Vought’s resources. Moreover, if he wanted to eventually control the White House and dominate the entire United States just like in Season 5, joining Vought was a mandatory step.
And then... find an opportunity for revenge later down the line.
"Executive Director," Benjamin said. "Add one condition."
Edgar raised an eyebrow.
"What I intend to build is a normal superhero company, not a talent agency for actors. Recall all the Compound V leaking out there, and ensure it never leaks again. I know my goddamn pussy son is the one distributing it, but all of this is happening with your blessing."
Edgar’s fingers paused on the rim of his coffee cup. This directly threatened Vought’s core interests. But he only deliberated for less than three seconds.
"Deal."
Benjamin picked up the completely cold coffee, downed it in a single gulp, and slamd the cup heavily back onto the table.
"Then I start work tomorrow. If you break the fucking rules, or if I find an opening, I will blow your goddamn head off and shove it up your ass."
Edgar remained entirely expressionless.
------
A/n: If you want to read ahead and find out what happens next right away, you can read up to 20 Chapters ahead on my p@tr~on: /ForgottenDaoist (@ = a, link is in my profile).
User Comments
0 comments from readers