The smell of old money was distinct. It smelled like beeswax polish, mahogany, and the faint, dusty scent of velvet drapes that hadn't been changed since the Reagan administration.
Jessica sat curled up on a massive, overstuffed leather sofa that probably cost more than her entire childhood home. She held a mug of steaming coffee in both hands, staring out the floor-to-ceiling windows at the Midtown skyline.
"I could get used to this," she whispered, taking a sip. "I really could."
Yesterday, she was a squatter in a cheap apartment with a broken radiator. Today, she was the owner of a four-story brownstone townhouse just a few blocks east of Hell's Kitchen. The price tag? A cool ten million pounds.
The money, of course, came from Rosen.
His trip to London hadn't just yielded Vibranium; it had netted him a massive surplus of British Pounds and Euros from the various underground banks he'd raided. Since the System only accepted US Dollars for recharging, Rosen was stuck with sack-loads of foreign cash he couldn't use.
So, he did what any pragmatic criminal mastermind would do: he gave it to his new "protégé" to launder.
Rosen wasn't worried about the IRS or the FBI knocking on Jessica's door. His plan was to turn her into a high-profile superhero. In the Marvel Universe, superheroes were celebrities. Did anyone ask where Tony Stark got the money for his fiftieth car? Did anyone audit the Fantastic Four for property damage?
If Jessica was out there fighting crime, saving the city, and becoming a media darling, a little unexplained wealth would just be part of the mystique. "Battle spoils," she could call it. Or maybe "anonymous donations from grateful citizens."
And once S.H.I.E.L.D. inevitably came knocking to recruit her, they would scrub her financial records cleaner than a hospital floor. S.H.I.E.L.D. didn't care about tax evasion; they cared about assets.
For now, this mansion served a dual purpose. It was Jessica's new home, and it was Rosen's secret safehouse.
A ripple of displaced air distorted the living room, followed by a soft pop. Rosen appeared out of nowhere, casually stepping out of the invisible wind current of Gale Step.
"You're back?" Jessica's face lit up. She set her coffee down and jumped up to greet him, the movement effortless and eager.
"I am," Rosen smiled, hefting a sleek, metallic suitcase in his hand. "And I come bearing gifts. Your uniform is ready, plus a few toys to keep you alive."
"Oh?" Jessica's eyes widened, sparkling with childish excitement. "Let me see! I can't wait."
Rosen set the case on the coffee table and flipped the latches. The lid hissed open, revealing the contents nestled in high-density foam.
The first thing that caught Jessica's eye was the suit.
It was a masterpiece of blue, textured material—armored but flexible. It had gold eagle emblems on the shoulders and a heavy, high-quality cape that unfurled to reveal the stars and stripes of the American flag.
Any comic book fan from Rosen's original world would have recognized it instantly. It was the battle suit of Homelander from The Boys.
"Wow," Jessica breathed, running her fingers over the fabric. "It looks... intense. Kind of like Superman, but way more military. Why is the cape a flag, though?"
In this universe, DC Comics existed as fiction, so the Superman reference tracked. But The Boys was unknown here. To Jessica, this was just a patriotic design. To Rosen, it was a dark, private joke.
"Because starting today," Rosen said, a peculiar grin playing on his lips, "you aren't just a hero. You're a symbol. You're the Homelander."
"Homelander?" Jessica wrinkled her nose. "That sounds... stiff. I was thinking something like 'Jewel' or 'Knightress.' And honestly? Patriotism isn't exactly my vibe right now. After what I found out about the military..."
She trailed off, her expression darkening. The Air Force had moved the chemicals that killed her family. The government had covered it up. Wearing their flag felt like a betrayal.
"I get it," Rosen said, his voice softening. "I know you don't love the system. But listen to me: you live in America. If you want to operate freely, if you want the public on your side and S.H.I.E.L.D. off your back, you need to play the game. Wrap yourself in the flag, and they can't touch you. It's camouflage, Jessica. It's just a title and a cape."
Jessica looked at the suit again. She saw the logic. If she looked like America's golden girl, she could get away with a lot more in the shadows.
"Fine," she sighed, picking up the heavy cape. "Homelander it is. But I'm doing it my way."
She turned her attention back to the case. Beneath the suit lay a collection of jewelry that looked less like costume props and more like ancient artifacts.
"What are these?" She picked up a heavy, rune-etched bracer.
"That," Rosen explained, pointing to the item, "is a Rune Bracer. It increases your magical resistance. If you run into a sorcerer or someone shooting energy beams, that will keep you from getting cooked."
He pointed to a pair of thick, leather-and-steel gloves. "Gauntlets of Ogre Strength. They add the raw physical power of a fully grown man to your own. For you, that's a drop in the bucket, but the material is practically indestructible. Use them to block knives or catch bullets."
Next was a thick, golden belt set with a large ruby. "Belt of Giant Strength. Adds the strength of two men. Again, mostly for style and defense, but every little bit helps."
He picked up a delicate, shimmering gold headpiece. "Crown of Kings. It boosts all your physical attributes—speed, agility, stamina. Think of it as a constant adrenaline shot without the crash."
Finally, he held up a necklace with a glowing blue gemstone. "And this is the Amulet of Spell Shield. Every forty seconds, it generates an invisible barrier that completely negates one magical or energy attack. It's your 'Get Out of Jail Free' card."
He tossed her a pair of sleek boots. "Boots of Speed. Self-explanatory. You'll run faster."
These were all items from the System's Regular Store. To Rosen, they were mid-tier trash—cheap items costing a few hundred thousand dollars each. But to a fledgling superhero in 2007, they were game-changers.
Jessica looked at the pile of treasure, stunned. She didn't know the market value, but she could feel the faint hum of power radiating from them.
"Rosen," she whispered, looking up at him with wide, watery eyes. "This is... this is too much. How can I ever repay you?"
Rosen just smiled, leaning back against the expensive sofa. "Just go out there and make a scene, Jessica. Be the hero they can't ignore."
And make sure S.H.I.E.L.D. sees you, he added silently. Because the sooner you're on their payroll, the sooner I can start my real work.