Robert Singer was immensely stressed out with supes running around, causing all sorts of havoc with their zero discipline and unchecked powers. A-Train ripped apart a number of people and Homelander couldn't even save a fucking plane yet he's pegging Singer for supes' position in the military. As the U.S. Secretary of Defense, he couldn't have that. If only he have anyway to prevent nor refuse Homelander's proposition. But that's life. Refusal can cause millions of death from a psychopathic manchild who happened to be build as a god of sort. "Ah fuck it", Singer thought repeatedly. He really wanted (and on many levels, needed) to kill Homelander, but there's no way he could do that. He has too much powers over the people and too much superpowers in comparison to other supes. His deal with Stan Edgar, CEO of Vought International, was no less tiresome. That condescending asshat wants supes in the military. That's fucking hilarious. Those immature, bone-headed, incompetent, spoiled jackass can't even save a plane from some untrained terrorists yet they want to go military? American might as well be Brits once again.

Robert Singer was really about to commit suicide just so Vought and those clowns stop pestering him, yet life was not very kind to him. The sound of flapping wings filled his office briefly and out of nowhere, a man in an overcoat appeared right in front of his face.

"Wh...W..Who the hell are you?", Singer asked with a panic and scared tone.

"I am Castiel", Cass answered

"Castiel? What a weird name you have there, kid. What the hell are you, a teleporting Supe from Vought, trying to pester you clowns into the military?"

"Vought? What is that?", Castiel confusedly asked.

"What?", Singer's voice became even more confused. "Who the hell does not know what Vought is", he thought to himself.

"I'm not a Supe. I'm an Angel from another universe, and I hoped you're someone who can help me", Castiel earnestly clarified.

"An Angel? Like..God's Angel?", Robert Singer's voice became curious.

"Yes. Do you happen to know a spell that opens a rift to another universe?"

"What makes you think I know that?"

"In my universe, you're a gruff, tough but fair friend. You were like a mentor to me, Bobby. There's nothing you do not know about, and even if you really don't, you always know somebody who does. You were a trusted friend of mine, Bobby"

"Look, Mr. Angel-of-God, you know what I think? You're just a second-rated Supe swallowing yourself in whatever that PR bullshit Vought gave you. Just because you have some cool superpowers doesn't mean you have become the Father's greatest messenger or something. Kiddo, rid yourself the illusions or God'll punish you. Oh wait, the Secret Service are coming to bust your ass to mental hospital, you demented idjit"

Castiel was slightly agitated that Robert Singer actually thought of him as a lunatic with self-delusion of angelic DID. So as soon as the Secret Service agents came in like flood to bust Cass' ass, the Angel calmly raised his hands. To Singer's horror, the agents were frozen mid-air, unable to move at all. In fact, time and space itself seems to have utterly paused, frozen, unmoving. Before Singer could ask further questions, Castiel decided to really show this man who he is, because let's face it, Cass is just as dramatic as Crowley can ever be. Light bulbs in the rooms completely exploded as strong thunderstorms drumming loudly. Space, time and reality distort itself into a strange, condense liquified air as a bright light rivaling the sun filled Singer's office. Finally, the spiritual figments of three large, glorious pairs of wings projected from Castiel's back. Looking at this great, shadowy object postulating from a supreme existence, Robert Singer finally conceded to this stranger's words and demands. Hopefully this person wouldn't kill him immediately like Homelander would.

"What do you want from me, Castiel?", Singer's voice became subdued.

"I want to know what was giving the supes their powers. I looked at their physiology, they're all too human to naturally gain such powers"

"There's one thing you have to understand here, Angel, is that those powers do not come naturally. Homelander's not some god from beyond the stars, he's just some sort of genetic production using Compound-V. It's a blue drug things that enhanced your physiology and give you all sorts of weird talents. They're distributed by Vought International. Oh, and they're also coming up with V-24, which gives you powers for 24 hours. But I don't think you need them at all"

"Thank you for your inquiry", Castiel politely expressed his gratitude before flying off. Singer was relieved as the Secret Service agents were hilariously confused.

Castiel flew into Vought Tower at night to find some more information on this Compound-V, for only foreign cosmic substances can alter human physiology to such a radical mutation. He should know, since he helped design humans during the Dawn of Time, and it was one of his more...passionate project. At the 67th floor, Cass found some of the Compound-V and V-24 synthesized here. The blue color in the V drug was really, really suspicious to his eyes. It was jarringly similar to the celestial essence imbued in angelic beings like him. Taking a vial for analysis, Castiel immediately took off before somebody could catch him.

Breaking down the vial of Compound V to small sub-atomic particles, Castiel found lots of interesting things in this drug. It does not have actual cosmic substances, but the sub-atomic interactions in the metallic vials mimic such phenomenon to nigh-perfect accuracy. Of course, some of the interactions could be fatal to adults, but even for human science, Cass could not help but to admire this handiwork. Like, holy shit, he has never seen something close to this in other worlds. These humans, with limited resources, actually managed to synthesize superpower-giving drugs. Obviously, those superheroes here were not that powerful in comparison to those of other cosmos Cass has been to, but let's face it, that ingenuity was still admirable. He broke it down further, and the quantum threads of this substance revealed that this compound actually has angel grace in it. Horrified, Cass had to ask himself how the hell did this universe managed to synthesize fucking angel grace, in cosmic genesis no less?

Castiel was lost in what should he do next. Normally, when he's trapped in these kind of problems, Sam, Dean and Bobby were always there to uplift and teach him something new about this kind of thought process. He's unfortunately on his own now. "Maybe the laboratory process will provide a clue", Cass thought. He returned to Vought Tower, again, while sliding his vessel into the Veil so that nobody can catch him breaking in.

Unfortunately, since he forgot to do so the first time, all of Vought's supes all know that somebody wearing a trench coat broke into the laboratory and stole a vial of Compound V yesterday. Standing in the position as the maker of luck and thereof lack of it, Castiel could not do anything but to facepalm himself hard from the sheer unluckiness and troubles he's in. Although to be fair, he should have made a better job hiding himself. But well, angel genesis-powered humans were after him now, and they're all not very happy with this intruder snooping around with all their secrets. They're all for blood and gore from this shithead.