#supegod

Only Frenchie had been kind enough to agree to help Hughie into the tower's basement; but only to get in. He would have to get out on his own, which wouldn't technically be a problem if @supegod agreed to his deal. If he didn't... Well, Hughie wasn't going to think about that, nor about how his entire plan hitched on Homelander's cooperation.

In his defence of his plan, he couldn't picture Homelander turning the offer down. He had been stuck in a cell for a year, possibly without any human contact during that time. If he knew about the clone, then he would want to stop him at all costs; and if he didn't know... Hughie had been bearer of bad news before. He could only pray that Homelander wouldn't shoot the messenger.

He had been expecting something a little more Resident Evil. It was definitely a sinister, basement lab, but Vought brought a boring office vibe that Umbrella Corp had been lacking. Even so, trepidation grew in Hughie's gut as he quietly slunk towards the door at the end of the room. To think, they would have done anything to get Homelander locked away like this; and now he was letting him out.

It had only been two weeks since Elizabeth Voss had settled into an office on the 96th floor of the Vought tower. The space was larger than she had anticipated ( as was her budget ), so naturally, she tried to fill it as adequately as possible. It was nothing like her little office back in LA, but once she had everything set up, it felt right.

Against one wall windows taller than her stretch across, a bookshelf that spanned another wall, filled with books ( Psychology, Supe specific books, self-help books), a few trinkets ( art deco mini sculptures, a metronome, a crystal or two ). Somewhere in there was a large white desk, orderly much as Elizabeth herself had been. Two chairs in front, and naturally one behind. At the far edge of the room a long couch and an armchair, each piece of sitting furniture matching with a dark grey fabric. Stretched across the the entrance wall had been a large amount of certificates :: A Doctorate in Metahuman Psychology, Certified Supe Trauma Specialist (CSTS), Cognitive Telepathic Ethics Accreditation, Neuro-Behavioral Crisis Intervention License, Vought Certified Juvenile Development Specialist, community awards from LA :: Samaritan Medal, Vought Humanitarian Excellence Award, Gold Mind Initiative Recognition, National Heroic Wellness Citation.

Slender digits reach, adjusting the blinds to slightly dim the room for HIS appointment, her expression calm as can be as she hums softly. Next, she moves slow through the office, her head tilting slightly as she glances at the couch before stepping forward to fix two pillows. . .and once satisfied she allows a deep breath to escape as she moves back to sit at her desk. Soft blues drift, glancing over at the clock before she pulls out her appointment book to schedule the other six members of 'The Seven' per an email Ashley had sent out with their schedules. There had only been about ten minutes until his appointment, her emotional guard, mental and physical restraints coming to keep her calm before the inevitable arrival of Vought’s most dangerous man.

@supegod has company.

it had been monday when she had descended the steps from the final floor of the tower to the start of the basement, where a secured elevator had taken her down, down into the belly of the earth beneath new york city to the laboratories. the man with white hair had wanted to see her, conduct a few more tests that were little more than wild ideas being prodded through her at this point, and nelrathe had had little option but to oblige.

by the time she steps out of the laboratory itself, it's thursday, and her body is classifiable as broken. bruises litter the skin exposed by the more comfortable clothing she's been allowed to wear in times like this; soft baby pink pyjama shorts and a tank top that has some blood splattered on its white fabric with the little watercolor bunnies dancing around the whole of the garment. no one dares breathe a word to the dragon inhabiting a humanoid form about her bare feet.

not even as they cross from one classified bit of tile to another, using the elevator to rise a single level just to touch more of that numbingly white tile. this is where he resides. someone she hadn't known hide or hair of before he had been crammed into a cage just a touch smaller than her own.

when she reaches that cage, nelrathe touches at the thick glass that boasts more inches than any man ever could, a sanded down and uselessly 'clawed' nail tapping at the tank to try to stir the attention of the creature inside to see her. palm rests there after, a small, tired smile on her bare lips as she sinks down to rest on her knees on the floor, feet splayed out to either side as weight sets on her rump and knees.

"  –  and  that  concludes  what  you've  missed on glee.  I  will  not  be  answering  any  questions  ,  but  I  do  want  a  promise...  "  a  beat.  the  doctor,  with  gloved  hands,  hovers  over  the  button  that'd  be  either  the  biggest  catastrophe  (second  to  what  was  currently  going  on  with  the  world)  or  their  savior.  he  hesitates  for  flair.  "  don't  touch  the  hot  one  –  ANNIE.  that's  all.  "  and  then he  lets  homelander  out .

"You can all say what you will, but this is proof."

@supegod in response to true heroes

@supegod LIKED FOR AN AESTHETIC OF OUR MUSES :

MUSE FT. SOLDIER BOY & HOMELANDER DYNAMIC : FATHER & SON