Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

The simple full-length mirror I was looking into showed a crooked smirk on my face. More from awkwardness than from an understanding of what was happening. After all, standing before me was a tall, muscular man, a blond with blue eyes, even teeth, and a symmetrical face. A true Aryan, no less.

Add to that a blue suit, a long cape stylized as the US flag, and, of course, yellow eagle-shaped shoulder pads on each shoulder, with a buckle of the same color on the belt. This is how you get the most famous superhero image in the whole damn world, the local Superman, in every sense of the word. Only red briefs over the suit are missing, but that's not what this is about.

Homelander—the strongest superhero in this bizarre world. The one who can be called an ideal, a superhuman without flaws. He was an alien, born in a dying world far away. As an infant, he was placed in a rocket and sent from his home planet to Earth before it exploded. He reached Earth and landed in the USA, where he was found by an elderly couple who named him John and raised him, teaching him the highest and purest American values—patriotism, altruism, and respect for truth and justice. Ultimately, when his powers manifested, John decided to protect his new home and became Homelander—the most powerful and righteous superhero the world had ever known.

A beautiful legend that became Homelander's backstory in the comics and then in the films. Although it's ripped off from Superman, who is Kal-El, in this world, no such being existed in any form. So it's plagiarism only on a multiverse scale.

However, few know the truth that John, as his creator called him, was literally raised in a controlled environment. A hydrogen bomb was attached to the child in case he tried to escape. At the same time, he was taught how to behave in public and the myth of Homelander was created—the greatest hero in history, who led the greatest superhero team in the world, called "The Seven."

A peculiar "Justice League" or "Avengers," where the greatest heroes of Earth were assembled. And, as one might easily guess, there were only seven of them. The team had its own black speedster, a Batman cosplay, an Aquaman parody who actually sucks this time, and its own Invisible Man. There was also their own Wonder Woman, with Superman in my person.

And all of them were endowed with their abilities at the whim of the only company that monopolized superheroes—Vought International. An American multi-billion dollar corporation, now headed by Stan Edgar. It is involved in creating films, TV series, comics, and merchandise based on its own superheroes. Homelander was created by them, literally fashioned and raised at their behest.

Now the question: Who am I then, if I don't associate myself with Homelander? A simple cameraman trying to make ends meet. An ordinary, most mundane person, with quite simple desires. At least until recently.

Waking up in bed, dressed in this ridiculous suit, which my predecessor rarely took off, was very unexpected. What can I say? The body didn't sweat, which already eliminated many inconveniences from constantly wearing this suit.

I felt a slight bewilderment when I realized that I knew everything Homelander knew. All his memories, from childhood memories in the lab to what he had recently eaten, were now in my head. And standing in front of the mirror, I completely failed to understand what I had gotten myself into and who had arranged all this. To fall asleep an ordinary overweight person and wake up an ideal in the eyes of most. What could be better? Only, such a service might well demand payment, because it was hard to believe it was gratuitous.

— I need some air, — I chuckled, taking a few steps towards the door. But I stopped abruptly, turning to the spacious balcony, from which it was convenient to... fly. — Why not?

A few seconds later, standing on the balcony, I swallowed my saliva, which had become viscous, looking at the asphalt below. As Homelander remembered, it was no less than eighty stories high. And he himself lived on the seventieth, which was clearly not that low. If I couldn't fly, falling down could flatten a person or car passing by. Little could happen to me, except maybe my ratings would drop. And even then, Vought would quickly deal with it, not letting such news leave the company.

Exhaling, I let go of the railing, which had slightly bent from the force of my grip. My eyes closed on their own, and I focused on the sensation of the wind hitting my face. I raised my hands, slightly bending my knees, and then sharply lowered them, jumping. My legs literally propelled me into the sky, where my body already flew completely freely.

I opened my eyes, seeing the night sky approaching me, or rather, my body approaching the sky. My heart was pounding like crazy, and the flight speed only increased. My hands instinctively moved forward, clenching into fists. The flight speed increased even more, and my body broke the sound barrier with a pop.

A couple of seconds and I see a crust of ice forming on my red gloves. But my body felt no cold; instead, only the desire to continue appeared. I knew this was not the limit... not at all the limit. So the speed increased again, reaching its maximum.

After another couple of seconds, the ice crust disappeared, as did all sounds. Flying became much easier, and I smoothly stopped. My breathing was even, although one cannot breathe in the stratosphere. But it's better to attribute everything to the peculiarities of a supe's organism than to dwell on it.

I slowly turned around, looking down, directly at the city. Neither clouds nor anything else hindered my enhanced vision, coupled with X-ray, from looking at the city in all its glory. The possibilities were incredible, and it seemed to me as if the entire city was nothing more than a constructor that could easily be disassembled. It was true, and that was what was frightening. But, I had to admit...

— This is fucking awesome! — I exhaled, only now noticing my eyes glowing crimson. The slightly reddish surroundings eloquently hinted at it.

In the sky, I felt like a fish in water, despite fears that I would have to relearn how to use my abilities. As practice showed, nothing of the sort was required. A smile froze on my lips as my gaze surveyed the city from a height that birds could not reach, no matter how hard they tried. Coupled with glowing red eyes, it certainly looked quite ominous from the side.

***

Smoothly landing on the balcony, I calmly entered the spacious, unadorned apartment. Nothing had changed here since Homelander moved in. However, a framed photo of Stillwell with him had appeared on the desk. The absolutely fake smiles displayed in the photograph now caused only irritation, instead of the usual nostalgia.

— And what did he see in her? — I muttered, looking at the younger version of the blonde, though not by much. She had wrinkles even then, though they were masked by expensive cosmetics.

Picking up the frame, I gazed at it for a second and then indifferently dropped it directly into the trash can. Feeling no internal reaction to this, I shrugged and sprawled in the armchair. Leaning my head back and staring at the white ceiling, I simply exhaled, letting go of unnecessary worries. It's better to solve problems as they arise, rather than tremble with fear at every rustle.

A knock on the door was unexpected, as was the fact that someone opened it unimpeded. A woman with blonde hair calmly entered the apartment. Her clothes were, as always, practical and tastefully chosen. Twenty years ago, she was quite the bombshell, but not now.

— Homelander. — Madelyn smiled, seeing me in the armchair.

— Madelyn. — I nodded indifferently at her.

I had no desire to talk to this woman. If Homelander was literally obsessed with her, I was completely indifferent to her. My predecessor also perfectly understood that he and his attachment were being fully exploited. For me, such a thing towards myself seemed unacceptable.

— I thought you wanted to help Maeve with the robbers today, — Madelyn said, stopping a few meters away from me. — But you were gone all day. So I got worried.

— Worried? — I smiled, trying to hold back the laughter bursting out.

I didn't compare Homelander to Superman for nothing; he literally possessed all the Kryptonian's powers. Except he couldn't freeze with his breath. Presumably, even a nuclear explosion wouldn't harm me. So words of concern from someone who was well aware of this sounded like some kind of joke.

But I didn't know that I had spent the whole day in the sky. Let's just say, flying was amazing. Perhaps parachute enthusiasts would understand me, though for me it was more like swimming, when you just don't want to get out of the water. And considering that I could easily ignore hunger, I flew for hours on end, losing track of time.

— Did she manage without me? — I asked, seeing no hint of concern on her face about my atypical behavior. Still the same polite smile.

— You know she's a professional. — Madelyn replied, her expression unchanged.

— Excellent, glad for her, — I told her, smiling. — I hope there will be no more questions for me?

— No, — Stillwell replied, a momentary flicker of concern in her eyes. — But because of this, her rating increased insignificantly compared to if Homelander had been with her.

— What a pity, — I said indifferently, looking directly into her eyes. And I could see her pulse quicken from it; she feared me. — Perhaps I can be present during another assignment?

— You mean Starlight? — The woman asked, surprised by my initiative.

— Yes. That's happening tonight, right?

— The Deep has already volunteered...

— I think I can convince him. Be so kind as to send me the text I'm supposed to read, — I chuckled, getting up from the chair and taking a few steps forward. — Well?

Fear. I managed to see it in her eyes, her heartbeat, her trembling knees. Homelander never allowed himself such a thing; he didn't want to shatter the illusion that he cared about this woman. I, however, was initially indifferent to her, and therefore saw right through her.

— I'll talk to The Deep myself. — Stillwell smiled and walked to the exit. I should have started to admire her ability to hide her emotions, but...

— By the way, how's Teddy doing?

...everyone has weaknesses.

Suddenly, she froze, her hand on the doorknob. A second, then another, and she quietly exhaled, so as not to inadvertently appear vulnerable before me.

— He's doing great, already crawling on all fours. — Madelyn replied, still not turning to me.

— What a good boy...

A heavy silence began to press on the woman, who couldn't even see my face. It was within my power to instill genuine terror in her, so that she would simply be afraid to use me for her purposes. However, this was enough for now.

— See you, Madelyn.

— See you, Homelander. — The woman replied in a more or less calm voice and exited the room.

Where she exhaled in relief, spending a few seconds just trying to normalize her breathing. Only after that did she cast a wary glance at the door, turn around, adjust her hair, and head to her office.

— All that's missing is popcorn or chips. — I muttered thoughtfully, watching Stillwell walk away from my apartment. But I couldn't deny that she was very strong-willed. It even evoked a little admiration. Just a little.

Chapter Text

People have been inventing heroes for as long as prose has existed. After all, it is human nature to strive for an ideal and to listen to stories. Accordingly, it is not surprising that stories about ideals have always been popular. Superheroes and comics are merely a more modern format for expressing the same idea. But what if these are not just stories? What if this is reality? That very reality where you live. Where the life of an ordinary person means nothing, and the fate of millions is decided by gods who are not alien to all the most disgusting flaws and vices of human nature.

A similar scenario was described in Watchmen, when ordinary people took matters into their own hands and dispensed justice. The outcome was predictable. The heroes were cancelled; they became outlaws. In this world, everything is gradually heading towards this. Only instead of one god-like being, there are thousands of them here. I wouldn't want a simple extermination of superhumans to begin, a group to which I now belong.

Vought International, which has been creating superhumans from children for years, uses them as a brand. Tens of thousands of comics, hundreds of films and TV series, advertisements at every turn. And there are thousands of these supes, and their number is growing. "The Seven" is simply the most popular team at the moment, where the most promising ones have been gathered. And as the growing revenues year by year show, Vought certainly made the right choice.

But like any person who has achieved something significant, the company's executives want more. Their next goal is to secure a military contract to start promoting supes as effective weapons. However, they do not take into account one important nuance: that the heroes here have never fought against superior forces. Supes rely entirely on their powers and are extremely self-willed, which the military understands perfectly. So it will take more than a few years, maybe more than ten.

— Ladies and gentlemen, there is no doubt that we are experiencing the dawn of the superhero business. Our revenue has grown by fourteen percent. Our latest film, "Agents: World War," grossed just under one billion seven hundred million dollars worldwide. And in the fall, we are opening a theme park near Paris. The branding opportunities are simply limitless. — Madelyn broadcast to the entire hall, with her unchanging smile, reading the prepared text for her. As always, with no particular emotions on her face.

— But you know, all this... it doesn't matter. Because for us, the main thing is the curation, support, and consulting of brave heroes who daily put themselves at terrible risk, for our sake. Your attention, please.

The woman pointed to the screen behind her, which began showing meaningless but captivating footage for Americans, shot for exorbitant money. A voiceover said something, but I didn't bother to listen. As always, it was something inspiring and boring, with a touch of patriotism. All as Madelyn Stillwell loves, who has been exploiting this approach for twenty years. And quite successfully, strangely enough.

The annual shareholders' meeting is held every year, which is logical, where they tediously talk about the company's future plans and stock growth. As always, people are fed dust before being told that the stock price has slightly increased. Therefore, Homelander refused to participate in this; he simply wasn't interested.

Now, the new member of "The Seven" is being introduced in this hall, where many years ago, at the same event, Homelander himself appeared before them. At that time, Stillwell was not yet the company's Vice President, but merely the curator of a hero then unknown to anyone. Stan Edgar held that position, and he passed it on to her when he became CEO. Almost everyone currently in "The Seven" received a similar introduction.

— So many memories, — Madelyn smiled, standing next to me. — Remember...

— I remember everything perfectly. I don't think you need to remind me that my memory is almost absolute. — I chuckled, turning to her. I didn't like that she had so much influence over Homelander.

— Are you mad at me for something? — She forced a fake smile, slightly nervous.

My attention wouldn't have caught this if not for her heartbeat. That's what made me seriously suspicious.

— You know I don't like it when things are hidden from me, — I smiled, moving closer to her. My hand instinctively reached for her chin and made her look directly into my eyes. — And your confession will be more acceptable than if I find out everything myself. Understand?

— I... — Madelyn mumbled, flustered, as her heart pounded wildly in her chest.

And at that moment, it became clear to me that I had hit the mark.

— I?

— I... have to go. — Stillwell smiled, and stepping back a couple of paces from me, calmly walked towards the stage.

— Interesting. — I smirked, realizing that this secret largely concerned my predecessor, and therefore me.

— And I have a big surprise for you, — Madelyn continued with the same confident smile, though her heartbeat told a different story. — Please welcome the leader of "The Seven," the greatest superhero on Earth, in person—Homelander!

The woman waved her hand in my direction, and all that was left for me was to walk onto the stage with a smile, to the enthusiastic shouts and applause of the assembled crowd. Approaching her, I gave her a slight hug and walked to the center of the stage.

— Thank you. Thank you very much, — I smiled at the audience, my gaze sweeping across the entire hall. — After a long, distinguished career in "The Seven," my good friend and comrade—Lamplighter—has retired. Let's give him a proper thank you!

After my words, the crowd erupted again in applause and shouts. Smartphone cameras were pointed at me; it felt natural to stroll across the stage, as if at home, enjoying their undisguised admiration. This kind of treatment definitely pleased me. Just try not to get too arrogant.

— And now, looking to the future, I would like to introduce a very special person. Someone I can't wait to work with. Your applause, Starlight!

A blonde in a homemade, though high-quality, costume almost ran onto the stage. However, my eyes noticed every flaw, and I can confidently say that this costume would easily tear from minor stress. Even The Deep's costume was more protected, though that wasn't his doing.

— Smile and wave to your future fans. — I said, demonstrating with my actions.

Annie, as she was called outside her superhero persona, quickly composed herself and, smiling, waved to the audience in the hall. However, the sparkle of delight in her eyes was too obvious, literally glowing with golden light due to an overflow of emotions, which indicated that all this felt like a dream come true for her. It looked incredibly sweet, it would almost be a shame to personally break those pretty rose-tinted glasses.

Chapter Text

Annie was incredibly excited, occasionally glancing at the back of Earth's greatest and strongest superhero. Even as a child, when she watched Homelander's exploits on the TV screen, she dreamed of one day becoming just like him. She sincerely wanted to protect civilians and be a hero they could rely on.

And now she was in "The Seven," the number one superhero team. And that's no exaggeration. Not many could rival each of its members. And now she was among them.

— How do you feel? — Homelander suddenly asked when they were in the elevator.

— I... I'm fine. — The girl tried to smile, but it came out too uncertainly. And it seemed he noticed.

— But really? — He turned to her with an understanding smile on his lips.

— I feel like I don't deserve any of this. — She averted her gaze from the hero's blue eyes.

— You're not alone in your feelings, — Homelander chuckled, remembering The Deep. — But I assure you, you're in "The Seven" not out of pity. Your abilities are at the required level, and that's what matters.

— Really? — Starlight was surprised, unable to imagine being able to stand up to someone like Translucent.

— Otherwise, you simply wouldn't have been taken. Only the strongest are in "The Seven." — Homelander smirked and confidently stepped out of the elevator, and Starlight hurried to follow him.

Soon they entered a spacious room where all members of "The Seven" gathered at one table. Monitors hung on the walls, surely intended for more effective city patrolling.

— This is where we gather. And here's your spot. — The blonde pointed to one of the chairs.

— Can I really? — Annie asked with undisguised admiration.

— You can, — Homelander nodded and watched with interest as the girl carefully sat down at the table. — Well?

— It's cool... I mean, good. — Starlight corrected herself, seeing the hero's smirk.

— Well, excellent, — he nodded. — Then let's move on to some rules you'll have to follow, Starlight. Are you ready to listen?

— Yes, of course. I'm ready. — Starlight straightened up, folding her hands on the table like a diligent student.

— First, everything that happens here must not leave the building. That's the main thing, — Homelander began, seeing misunderstanding in the girl's eyes. — Second, you report directly to me. Not Madelyn or anyone else, but me. If something worries you, you come to me.

— Understood, — Annie nodded, though she didn't understand the point of saying all this. After all, all of The Seven should obey their leader anyway.

— Since I introduced you as a member of "The Seven," from this moment on, we will start working together. Tomorrow we'll have to test your power level, and if possible, help you master them.

— But I know how to control my powers. — Starlight objected uncertainly.

— We'll see about that, — Homelander chuckled. — The rest is easier. Be vigilant in the ladies' room, as Translucent usually hangs around there.

— What? — The blonde stared at him in shock. She couldn't imagine why the local Invisible Man would spend time in the women's restroom.

— He likes to peek. — Homelander replied, as if that should explain everything.

— Why? — Annie almost whispered.

— Because he can and he wants to. That's the kind of person he is, — Homelander replied, with a smile. — And finally, you cannot ruin your own reputation.

— What do you mean?

— Don't rampage on the city streets. Don't get caught on camera drinking or smoking. Watch your words. If your rating in people's eyes drops too much, even I won't be able to keep you in "The Seven."

— I... I understand.

— Sorry, I didn't mean to burden you. However, this is important primarily for you, — he placed his hand on her shoulder, making her look directly into his eyes. — Now you're in "The Seven," and the hardest part is over. Now you can go and rest in your apartment; you'll get the keys from Ashley.

With these words, Homelander walked over to the panoramic window, beginning to gaze into the night city. Annie carefully got up from the chair and, looking at the hero's back, quietly exhaled.

— Good night, Homelander. — The girl smiled uncertainly before leaving the room. The day had definitely been too full of impressions.

— Good night, Starlight. — The man's voice reached her.

---

Hughie felt out of place and knew he didn't belong here. The death of Robin, his girlfriend, who was run through by A-Train, was the beginning of all this. It literally broke him. The speedster, whom Hughie had been a fan of, didn't even apologize for his actions, excusing himself by chasing robbers. And Vought simply sent a person who wanted to buy his silence with money. That finally enraged him.

After some time, some Brit came to him, with a beard and a noticeable scar on his forehead, introducing himself as an FBI agent. Billy Butcher, as this Brit was called, showed him papers with evidence that there had been no bank robberies that day. So the guy simply couldn't disbelieve him.

As a result, he was now standing in a room with monitors showing videos from the club's surveillance cameras. But not just any club, but one where supes hung out. They drank, took drugs, and fucked around left and right, which you don't expect from those called infallible.

— There it is. — Butcher pointed to the screen, where A-Train himself was sitting on the couch.

A black superhero who constantly wears his glasses, as he runs at incredible speed. He was in his blue suit, with the letter "A" on his shoulders, as if saying he was always first.

— So, wait... is he here right now? — Hughie asked, nervous at the mere thought that the speedster was literally a few steps away from them.

— No, this is yesterday's recording. Turn on the sound. — Butcher asked the guard.

— You really managed to run through a chick. — One of the supes, who was almost naked, laughed, joining A-Train in drinking alcohol.

— That's fine, I flew through her so fast that I swallowed one of her molars... Like a bug on the highway. — The black speedster said excitedly.

— Fucking unbelievable. — His interlocutor commented, beginning to laugh as if an amusing joke had been made. And A-Train laughed with him, literally roaring.

— They're laughing, they find it funny. — Hughie began to breathe deeply, clenching his fist in indignation.

— Laughing? — An unfamiliar voice sounded, and the one Hughie didn't expect to see here appeared in the frame. He looked at Butcher, but he was staring intently at the screen, ignoring him.

— Homelander? — A-Train coughed, while his friend quickly left.

— Do you find it funny that you killed a civilian? — Homelander asked, and it was definitely him.

— Come on, it's all under control. — The black guy replied, looking at the superhero warily.

— Really? Well, it doesn't seem that way to me. — Homelander chuckled, looking at him disapprovingly.

— Yeah, it's all...

— Did you not notice her? Or couldn't you stop? — The blonde suddenly asked.

— I didn't notice.

— You're lying, A-Train. And you know I don't like being lied to. — Homelander loomed threateningly over him.

— Alright, alright! I couldn't stop!

— How much were you taking?

— I didn't... Okay, I was taking some, a little.

— You'll have to stop if you don't want to get kicked out of "The Seven."

— For what? Because some chick died?!

— You're losing control of your powers, your body can barely handle this crap. You're becoming addicted to it, and your heart isn't made of iron, — Homelander replied calmly. — So Robin Ward's death is just the beginning; it'll only get worse from here.

— What about my heart? — A-Train asked anxiously.

— I see how the drug is affecting your body, and your heart first and foremost. If you don't want to become another disabled supe, you'll listen to my words. Have a good evening, — Homelander chuckled, surveying the room. — And deal with the consequences of your actions.

The speedster couldn't utter a word, just staring at him. And realizing that he had nothing to say in response, Homelander calmly left, leaving the superhero alone.

— Fuck!! — A-Train yelled in anger and smashed the glass table, along with the booze, with a punch.

The recording stopped, and Butcher looked at Hughie. The intense gaze was unpleasant, but the guy didn't look away.

— What have you decided? Since even Homelander mentioned the situation with Robin, that means they have something to fear, — Butcher approached him, staring intently into his eyes. — So, are you going to help me nail this bastard?

Chapter Text

Flying is cool, it's exhilarating, indescribable. No words are enough to describe what I feel while flying above the clouds. Although, maybe it's all about my vocabulary, which, I'll admit, is very limited. The other thing is that I don't need it, I'm not writing a book after all.

The other thing is that it's very easy to get lost in the sky, not paying attention to time. This intoxicating feeling of complete freedom from any chains is unforgettable. Having such opportunities, it's very difficult to give them up, but I wasn't going to anyway. Everything suits me just fine.

Landing on the balcony of my apartment, I smoothed my hair and calmly walked over to the carafe on the nightstand. Pouring water into a glass, I drank it in one gulp, glancing at the clock. Nine o'clock in the morning, which means the meeting should have already started.

— Looks like I'm late? — I said indifferently, putting the glass back. I snorted, then walked unhurriedly towards the exit. A familiar corridor, where you wouldn't meet any strangers, and a spacious elevator straight ahead. I pressed the call button and waited, watching the red numbers above the elevator entrance approach my floor. I didn't have to wait long, only a couple of seconds, after which the elevator doors slid open.

— Good morning, Starlight. — I smiled, seeing the girl in front of me, who looked at me with surprise.

— Hi... I mean, hello! — The girl replied with a nervous voice, even raising her hand in greeting.

She immediately took a step back to make room for me, although it wasn't necessary in the spacious cabin. I just mentally shook my head and walked inside, standing to her right. The doors closed, and we silently began to ascend.

— Nervous? — I asked, watching her reflection with interest in front of me.

— A little.

— You shouldn't be. They're all just people... when it comes to behavior. Although it's a bit difficult to say that about Noir, but only at first glance. Did you know he can play the piano?

— Really? — Starlight was surprised. Black Noir was too silent and genuinely secretive, and learning about his skills beyond the widely known was almost impossible.

— Absolutely. However, he only plays when he's in the mood, which means rarely.

— A shame. — The blonde sighed, realizing she wouldn't see that anytime soon.

— And yes, it's best not to be late for the first meeting.

— I'm sorry, sir. — The girl faltered.

— Oh, just call me Homelander. — I waved my hand, smiling at her. She smiled back.

Meanwhile, the elevator smoothly stopped on the right floor, and the doors opened. I exited the cabin and headed straight for the meeting room, with Starlight silently following me. The massive iron doors quietly swung open before them, revealing the assembled "heroes".

Black Noir, who attracted the most attention in the bright room because of his completely black suit. He was so silent you could mistake him for mute. The most effective of "The Seven," as he cuts down criminals in droves. He doesn't smoke or drink, and doesn't like loud gatherings. Abilities: superhuman strength, durability, and regeneration. Only one drawback: he is absolutely loyal to Vought.

Next was Translucent, sitting in glasses and loose grey cloth clothes. Why? - an uninformed person might ask. And the answer to this question is that he doesn't need a suit at all. It once crossed my mind, does an Invisible Man need to be naked to be invisible? Well, the answer is: Yes. In his normal state, he's just a simple middle-aged man. He has invisibility and invulnerability during this state. Well, almost. For the most part, Translucent cares about money and wasn't going to put himself at risk for the company.

A-Train joined the team quite recently, about four years ago. Before him, Mr. Marathon was in his place, also a speedster, only in red. He is now retired, well-deservedly so. After all, Bartholomew was a truly worthy member of the team, unlike his current replacement. At least he didn't run through people. Though he was not without his flaws. So, A-Train has the same abilities as any speedster. At the moment, he's so fast that he uses an entire train for training. Which is how he got his nickname. He earned his place literally with blood and sweat, by defeating Mr. Marathon in a race. Although that competition was partly staged, both of them ran at full speed. The only drawback: an addiction to superhero doping, in the form of Compound V. However, he is personally loyal to me.

Next, The Deep. A guy with a handsome appearance, in a green scaly suit. The most insecure member of the team. Can talk to fish, swim fast and deep. Standard strength and durability included. He considers himself a freak because of the gills on his body. The thing is, Homelander mocked him when he saw them. And after that, information about it became public knowledge, not without the help of a certain blonde. The perfect Aryan simply saw The Deep as a threat to his status as the most popular hero, as the latter had a lot of female fans. Since then, the guy doesn't show his bare torso in public. Homelander never denied himself the pleasure of reminding The Deep of this flaw. He is loyal to Vought, but without fanaticism.

And finally, Queen Maeve. A beautiful red-haired woman in natural armor. Although it should be noted that this armor was not far from being a "bra-armor." But this was compensated by the fact that the girl's body itself could withstand much more than armor could. By nature, she was a bitch, if you looked at her superficially. In reality, she truly loves her job, the part of it where she has to save ordinary citizens. She wanted to save the whole world but was disappointed by the realization that the world didn't need her. Hence the alcoholism. In terms of abilities: standard strength, speed, durability, and also the ability to fly. Although you can't call her flight fast, even a simple car is faster. She maintains neutrality, is afraid of Homelander and doesn't trust Vought.

— I apologize for the delay, — I said, looking at all the assembled heroes, smiling cordially and pointing to the blonde. — I am happy to introduce you to the new member of our team, Starlight.

— Hello. — The girl smiled, waving her hand in greeting.

A disjointed chorus of voices answered the newcomer's greeting. Black Noir waved back at her, but Maeve simply ignored her, her gaze shifting from me to her with suspicion.

— Unfortunately, I haven't prepared a speech, — I walked to my place, right in the middle, and sat down in the chair. — So let's begin without any unnecessary formalities.

— Excellent, let's get straight to the main topic. — Translucent took the floor, sitting in his glasses while invisible. This looked funny, but his eyesight was perfectly fine. It was more about knowing where his eyes were.

— These bastards leaked a pirated copy of my latest movie three weeks before the premiere! — Translucent continued without restraint, reading something on his tablet. — And you can't walk down Fifth Avenue without running into a stall with unlicensed Homelander toys. An egregious violation of copyright that costs the company billions, and that's money out of our pockets. How much do we each get, four percent?

— What the fuck?! Everyone gets four? — A-Train was outraged. With his two percent, his outrage was quite justified, since everyone on the team should ideally get an equal share. But capitalism dictates its own rules. So Homelander gets a full ten percent of the profit from everything related to him personally and two percent from The Seven. The same situation is with Maeve and Noir. Translucent and The Deep get four, and Starlight doesn't have a single percent yet.

— And better lawyers. — Maeve noted, holding a glass of whiskey.

— Done bickering? — I asked, making everyone fall silent. — A wonderful first meeting. You've shown your best side. And now let's get to the main point: who did you save this week?

The Deep hesitantly raised his hand, but immediately lowered it. Sighing, I just rolled my eyes, the guy had been bullied too much. Looking at him, I nodded, giving him the floor.

— I saved six people. — The Deep became more animated.

— Drowning?

— Yes. — The guy deflated somehow.

— That's all you're good for. — Maeve whispered, although everyone heard her perfectly.

The Deep pressed his lips together, seeing A-Train cover his mouth with his hand to hide a smile.

— Not bad, keep up the good work. — I smiled, ignoring Maeve's words.

— Thanks. — The guy nodded gratefully.

— Next, Black Noir...

Overall, everything went as usual and was quite good, although Starlight couldn't boast of any special achievements. It was forgivable for her, but it seemed to have left a mark. Everything ended with another whining session from Translucent about lost money. Then it was time to personally test what Starlight was capable of. I hope she doesn't disappoint me.

Chapter Text

— My apologies, Starlight. I should have asked them to be more restrained. — I chuckled, entering the training room. One of six, and that's just in the Vought Tower.

There were mannequins and everything else for physical training. Not to say that all of this was needed by supes, but for a demonstration, it would do. There were also targets made of metal plates, even the floor was metal, along with the ceiling and walls. Although I had no idea what kind of metal and alloys were used, also like original Homelander. But it seemed that everything here was extremely reliable for the safety of the other floors.

The entire room belonged entirely to The Seven and, as can be seen from the completely intact things, they weren't here often. Only for cleaning. Vought probably expected combat training to be held here. However, they didn't take into account the supes' arrogance.

— Wow, — Starlight breathed out, looking around the empty room. — This is where you train?

— We have five more, so we can use spares during repairs. As practice has shown, such rooms are not durable.

And that was the pure truth. Homelander himself personally destroyed two at once, going over everything with laser from his eyes. The other team members' successes were more modest, but very quickly such training rooms became simply irrelevant. The obvious fact was to blame: supes don't lose strength without training. Black Noir or The Deep won't become less strong or fast without it. So the result is predictable.

— Where do we start? — Starlight asked enthusiastically, realizing that she didn't need to be afraid of breaking anything here.

— And what do you know how to do? Besides superpowers.

— Taekwondo. I have a red belt. — The girl answered proudly, which made me skeptical of her words.

— Will you show me what you can do? I swear I'll only defend myself. — I smiled, raising my hand as if swearing on the Bible. Considering I was an agnostic.

— But it's already clear that I'm weaker than you. — Starlight objected uncertainly.

— And? Your goal is to show your abilities, not to win. And this is not an exam. — I smirked and got onto the most ordinary-looking ring. Here, everything looked more classic, only instead of simple ropes, the ring was surrounded by iron ones. The floor of the ring also consisted of iron plates. A couple of half-strength spars would definitely withstand them, and replacing them would not be difficult.

— Okay. — The blonde sighed and joined me.

— We don't need a referee. Start, — I commanded and immediately shifted to the right, dodging a sharp kick. — Not bad.

The kicks were very good, it's just that while she could literally pierce a normal person with her kicks at her speed, her techniques had no effect against me. Not to mention, my speed and reaction are comparable to speedsters. A-Train is certainly faster, but my speed is not much less.

So every punch from the girl looked like a hit from a five-year-old to me, predictable and ridiculous. Smirking when she almost kicked my head, I grabbed her leg and knocked her to the floor, tripping her.

— Get up, — I smiled, looking down at her. — Or is that all you're capable of?

The girl's eyes glowed with yellow light and she jerked up from the floor. This time she was much fiercer, using her fists as well. However, the result didn't change, she only started making more mistakes and became inattentive, eventually leaving herself open for an attack.

In an instant, my hands easily lifted her, grabbing her hips and knocking her to the floor. I immediately hovered over the blonde and grabbed her wrists, not allowing her to move. Starlight was breathing heavily, and her eyes were glowing even brighter, while the lights began to flicker uneasily.

— You swore you'd only defend yourself. — The girl breathed out, but there was no indignation in her voice.

— Offense is the best form of defense. — I smirked, feeling her attempts to break free from my grip cease.

Her heartbeat quickened, and the girl's gaze became too intent. My gaze involuntarily shifted to her temptingly parted lips...

— You know how to attack. — Ironic words sounded, a little to the side.

— Maeve. — I forced a smile on my face, feeling annoyed at the interruption at such an interesting moment.

Getting up, I looked at the heroine, who was watching us with interest. Starlight also hurried to get up, smoothing her skirt. She definitely felt at least awkward.

— In the flesh, — Maeve snorted, glancing at both of us. — Decided to relive your youth?

— I was testing what Starlight is capable of... in a combat sense.

— And? — She raised an eyebrow.

— Quite good, even excellent. — I assured the redhead beauty.

— Really? Well, to me, you seem biased in this case, — the girl smirked, looking at Starlight again. — It would be much fairer if the sparring was with me. Don't you think?

— I have no objections. — I smiled, watching her easily jump over the ropes and land in the ring.

— That's great.

— Well, please come to the center, — I decided to take on the role of a kind of referee. The girls didn't object and now stood opposite each other. — I hope you both understand that this is just a friendly match. So please don't get too rough.

— We understand you. — Maeve smirked, giving me a glance.

— Begin. — I stepped back, giving them space for the fight.

No miracle happened, and the match turned out to be almost identical to the last one. At the beginning, Starlight gave it her all, trying to reach Maeve. Maeve didn't let herself be touched, and a minute later, having seen everything she needed, she simply laid the girl on the floor of the ring. Expected.

— Really not bad, — Maeve delivered her verdict, offering a hand to the girl who was on the floor again. — You would definitely tear The Deep to shreds. Well done.

— Thanks. — The blonde didn't refuse the help, getting back on her feet.

— Okay, I'm going. Business awaits. — The redhead heroine smirked and, throwing a glance at me, jumped over the ropes and headed for the exit.

— What's gotten into her? — I muttered, not understanding her behavior.

— Between you...

— Oh no, what are you talking about. We're just friends, — I denied her assumption. — Most likely... she just decided to have some fun.

Homelander's relationship with Maeve was far from normal. While they had a passionate romance at the beginning of their acquaintance, they later broke up and got back together repeatedly. Only about six years ago did they finally decide to just be friends, an initiative started by Maeve herself. This annoyed Homelander, but not me.

— I see. — Annie said uncertainly.

— Now it's time to test the power of your ability, — I decided to change the subject. — By the way, what is it?

— Well, it's something like a laser, only slower. It can push back, and with prolonged contact, it can burn. — Starlight began to explain.

— And you get your energy from electrical appliances. — I nodded, getting down from the ring.

— Did you read my file?

— No, I just guessed. I noticed how the light flickered when your eyes glowed, — I easily lied, remembering every nuance about her abilities. — I only know the general gist of your powers. So what?

— Yes, that's right. That's how I accumulate energy. In urban conditions, I am the strongest.

— And how long can you hold it inside?

— A couple of days. If I hold it for too long, it gets uncomfortable. — The girl grimaced, clearly remembering unpleasant sensations.

— Understood. Shoot at the target, with all your might. — I asked, and she raised her palm and, accumulating energy in it, fired in less than a second.

The results were acceptable. There was a perfectly round hole in the target, or rather, in the iron plate. But there was one nuance.

— Do you release this energy only from your hands or from your whole body?

— From my whole body.

— Then why your hands?

— It's convenient? — The girl answered uncertainly, it seemed she hadn't thought about this question at all.

— Your eyes emit light. During stressful situations, they are the first to glow, which means they conduct your energy most easily. — I replied, watching the girl's astonished face.

— I... wait. — The girl focused again, but this time she lowered her hands.

Her eyes began to glow, more and more intensely, until they fired a beam of light. As a result, there was another hole in the second target, only twice as small as the first one.

— It worked! — Starlight joyfully shouted, almost jumping in place. She clearly didn't have any discomfort.

— Yes, it worked. — I nodded, watching her happy face with interest.

I wonder how many other supes there are who haven't even tried to understand their powers? Vought seems to not be concerned with training control over their powers, and this suggests that they don't need professionals in their field at all. The same can be said about tactics, hand-to-hand combat, and controlling technology.

Homelander himself doesn't even know how to drive a car, let alone a plane or a helicopter. In many ways, he is completely incompetent. Even his first mission completely failed because he decided to shoot at a machine gun with his laser. The predictable result was life-threatening injuries that both the hostages and the perpetrators received. This is definitely something to think about.

We spent another two hours in the training room, testing Starlight's powers. As a result, she started emitting beams from her eyes quite decently. And they turned out to be much safer than my lasers, only pushing back and not burning straight through.

Returning to my apartment, I flew out again, beginning to gain incredible speed. I definitely couldn't get tired of this, at least not in the next few weeks. It's too intoxicating a feeling, here not only alcohol, but even drugs don't count.

And it was in this state that I landed on the balcony again, smoothing my damp hair. Who knew that flying through the clouds would make you wet?

Snorting at the ridiculous thought, I walked to the refrigerator and took out the milk, pouring it into a glass. The refreshing liquid disappeared from the glass very quickly, moving into my empty stomach. I should order something, I thought, wiping the marks from my lips.

— What brings you here, Madelyn? — I asked, without turning to the woman who was watching me from the couch.

It looks like today I'll find out what they were hiding from Homelander. And I was sure that this wasn't only Stillwell's initiative. Stan Edgar is definitely involved here.

— We need to talk.

— I'm all ears. — I smiled, turning to face the woman.

Chapter Text

Homelander considered himself an ideal and it was true. A sharp mind, a perfect body, a super-being in the flesh. Maybe with psychological defects, but insignificant ones. But there was one small flaw that, although not so strongly, bothered him. And it proved in practice that he was still far from ideal.

Any organism lives for only one purpose, with which it is born and with which it dies. And this purpose is progeny. To give life, something that is accessible to almost anyone, but not to a supe. All supes become sterile from the moment they receive their powers. A limited-edition product, like androids that only imitate human behavior. However...

— Repeat that, please. — I asked her, not believing my own ears.

— You have a son. — Madelyn repeated, but this time there was no eternal smile on her face.

— How old is he?

— He is eight. — The woman answered, pressing her lips together.

— So you've been hiding my son's existence for eight years? — My eyes glowed with red light, but there was no fury in them, just interest.

However, that was enough for her to fear for her life. Her heartbeat quickened, and I could clearly see droplets of sweat on her forehead. And it was crystal clear to me why they were hiding the son from his father. It's simple: Homelander would make a good father like Gandhi would make a terrorist. He is a narcissistic psychopath who considers himself not just a superhuman, but almost a God. This is how you could characterize Homelander. He doesn't know how to love, friendship and amicable relations are just a tool for him. And the only thing that could manipulate him was his attachment to Stillwell.

He would spoil his son, making him a second version of himself, only much worse. The Vought executives simply couldn't allow that. But at the same time, I perfectly remembered what they did many years ago to the boy who would later be named Homelander. A hand stuffed into a furnace was the most harmless of the experiments, not to mention complete isolation for months or being shoved into a huge aquarium until he lost consciousness. It's better not to even talk about testing the most diverse weapons and poisonous substances.

I didn't even notice how my eyes glowed much brighter and more ominously, and my eyebrows furrowed. If they do even a third of what Homelander went through to the child... I will grind the entire Vought leadership into dust.

— His mother asked us to! — Madelyn almost shrieked, pressing herself into the couch.

At these words, I froze, and the red light in my eyes slowly went out.

— Who is she?

— Rebecca Butcher, she worked for us as the director of digital marketing. — Madelyn quietly exhaled, seeing that my eyes were not going to burn through her.

— I see. — I remembered that name and the woman herself... as well as the difficult circumstances of my son's conception. Classic workplace harassment. Another event in honor of a meaningless record invented by marketers. And boredom in the idiot who decided to play a fucking NTR with Rebecca Butcher, who came there with her husband. A simple threat of being fired did its job. And the desperate girl chose a career over her husband, who was literally a couple of meters away from them at that moment.

— Is she raising him herself? — I asked, understanding that Rebecca could have originally turned her son against supes and Homelander in the first place. But it was hard to believe, as Vought wouldn't like that.

— Yes. They live in a vast area surrounded by concrete walls.

— I recognize your methods. — I smirked maliciously, seeing her look away.

— Nothing was done to him. No experiments, he lives with his mother and is growing up like a normal child. — The woman began to justify herself, and I had to believe her, as I could see right through her. Literally.

— And what is his name? I hope it's not John Doe? — I raised my eyebrow questioningly, involuntarily remembering the name on Homelander's civilian ID. But he hadn't been called by that name for a very long time.

— His name is Ryan.

— "Little King," what a fitting name, — I snorted to myself, slowly and calmly walking up to the woman. — So, will you tell me where they are?

— Homelander...

— You have no right to ask me for anything, after hiding this for so many years and keeping my son locked up. — My eyebrows furrowed.

— We are not keeping them locked up, and they can leave at any time. We are just monitoring to control the activation of his powers, if it happens. — She assured me, but...

— Did you forget? I can easily spot a lie, especially such a blatant one. — I said with displeasure, touching her chin and raising her head.

— I'm sorry. — She swallowed her viscous saliva, looking straight into my eyes without blinking.

— Only because of our long-standing friendship will I allow you to walk on this mortal earth, but don't think I'll forget what you did.

A couple of minutes later, I was looking through the wall as Madelyn walked with stiff legs to the elevator. She was still tense, and her heart was beating like crazy. She probably suspects that she is still being watched. Chuckling, I looked away, no longer following her. What was more important now was to figure out how to meet my son. Of course, at first glance, it seems meaningless, because why would I need a literally foreign child? I am not Homelander, but now this is my body, and I simply couldn't fail to understand the plan of the Vought executives.

Homelander is the strongest superhero, and he cannot be killed in any way. All attempts to create a supe of comparable strength constantly failed; Queen Maeve is one of them. And now a child has appeared who, in theory, can inherit all of my strength. And if they failed to raise a completely loyal superhuman with him, it is quite possible that they can succeed with his son, if they use a different approach. And for some reason, I really didn't want a weapon to appear against me that was controlled by a group of unprincipled bastards.

Sighing, I walked to the closet and opened the doors to see four identical superhero costumes in front of me. Silently closing the doors, I turned around and flew out through the balcony. Definitely, I cannot meet my son looking like this. I don't think a child would be happy to see a freak in front of him, even if he is world-famous. First of all, I should present myself as a person, not a fucking demigod. So I'll have to postpone the meeting.

However, I wasn't going to just leave him alone for even a day. I have to be careful with Vought, as they could replace the child with another, giving him Compound V. I couldn't allow that, so I was flying at full speed, more than ten thousand kilometers per hour. So it's not surprising that I arrived in just ten minutes.

Hovering over a huge area that was indeed surrounded by walls, I peered down. Through the walls and clouds, my eyes counted just over thirty people working there. But my attention was drawn to only two people. One woman and the only child in the whole area, a boy with brown hair and blue eyes. They were hugging on the couch and watching some melodrama on TV.

Not wanting to look at this scene for long, I just flew back. I solved the problem of simple clothes quite quickly, just by asking Ashley to bring some decent clothes. Unfortunately, out of everything, I only liked a white shirt and black trousers. Everything else, in my opinion, was too colorful.

For the first time in these past few days, I decided to leave the building on foot. I had become too dependent on my newly acquired powers. The main thing was to style my hair so that it looked careless. This was not difficult. But what would complete the image of John Doe, I found in the nearest clothing store.

— They really suit you. — The girl at the checkout complimented me.

— Thank you. — I smiled at her, looking at the mirror.

The person looking at me was not Homelander at all, at least he would definitely not wear glasses. Yes, you could call it plagiarism, but who could accuse me of it? After all, even though it's common to laugh at Superman for his way of hiding his identity, it doesn't negate the effectiveness of this method.

After all, it's the readers or viewers who can look at everything from the outside and Superman and Clark Kent are one and the same to them. But many don't take into account that to people, Superman is always Superman. He doesn't hide his face behind a mask, which means he doesn't hide his identity. He has an official name — Kal-El. Even a perfectly official position.

Therefore, it's the same as if people suspected Will Smith of also being some kind of Karl. As if the very classy and authoritative Will Smith would change into cheap clothes and become Karl, a shoe salesman. You have to agree, it's absurd.

That's why no one recognizes Superman in Clark Kent, although they do notice the resemblance of the clumsy and inattentive reporter to the superhero. That's why no one recognized me when I walked past people. The image of Homelander, the perfect man with a perfect hairstyle and a constant smile on his lips, didn't match John Doe at all. And with the glasses that made my blue eyes not so obvious, no one would even suspect that I was Homelander.

I even remembered a moment from the movie "Back to the Future 2," when they showed the future McFly family. I thought I would be able to distinguish the son from the father, even though it was the same actor. All he had to do was wet the guy's hair and play a panicking teenager. That's why I was absolutely calmly walking in the park, relaxing from the hustle and bustle that had fallen on me in these past few days. I even bought myself a vanilla ice cream, which I hadn't eaten for about a year, and sat down on a bench.

— Calm is the father of all great thoughts. — I involuntarily recalled a quote, which fit the situation perfectly.

Chapter Text

Sitting at the entrance of the two-story house, I thoughtfully looked at the green lawn. A beautiful lawn, I thought, looking at the lawn, trying not to listen to the natural moans from inside the house. It was an awkward situation, and it was messing up my plans for... it had already slipped my mind.

And everything started so well! I found out Ryan's schedule from Madelyn, and timed it so that Rebecca would be alone. After all, only a complete idiot would show up to their place suddenly. The child might not understand much, but he would be able to pick up on the negativity that would definitely come from his mother. So it's better to agree on everything in advance, without the child's presence, so there wouldn't be any awkward moments later.

Who would have thought that a lonely woman, who had not had intimacy for eight years, would be masturbating at that moment? Not me.

So it came as a complete surprise to me when I saw this scene through the walls. And before me was a woman sensually writhing on the bed, who not only hadn't lost her beauty, but had become even more sexual. This may be my arousal talking, but I could understand Homelander to a certain extent. Not in terms of forcing intimacy, but still.

Turning away, I decided to leave the woman alone, not to peek at her. If I were in her place, I would have been at least awkward if I were being watched like that. Therefore, I smoothly and unhurriedly flew in the direction of the next house, where the boy was being tutored. This takes about ten minutes by car, which Rebecca had available. For me, this journey lasted only four minutes.

Sitting on the grass, I watched Ryan's lessons with interest—the son of this body. The boy was handsome, having received all the best from his parents. Or are all children beautiful at this age? A difficult question that I didn't want to think about. But the boy's upbringing was good, but he was even too obedient. Although I'm nitpicking here, the teacher was also smart. More precisely, the tutor... and judging by her behavior, she was trying to get Ryan attached to her.

— How banal. — I even rolled my eyes at such a move by Vought.

It was clear that in a couple of years they were going to somehow get rid of Rebecca and replace her with a tutor who looked like her. As a result, Ryan would be under the control of a Vought-loyal employee, and that's when they would start teaching him all the superhero tricks.

— Everything genius is simple. — I sighed with displeasure.

It's unlikely Rebecca even realizes that she will be gotten rid of soon. No, she can't be called stupid, she just trusted the wrong people. People shouldn't be trusted at all, especially if these people represent the interests of a multi-billion dollar corporation.

***

The knock on the door was sudden for Becca, as she had only gotten out of the shower a couple of minutes ago. The woman hadn't even had time to dry her hair, but she still went downstairs. Of course, it was unclear why they were bothering her. After all, before this, the employees would always call first before bothering her.

But she didn't worry, as it could be something urgent. The door opened and she froze for a second, frowning and not recognizing one of the Vought employees in the person standing in front of her. At least she hadn't seen any blond men in glasses among them, and without a special uniform even more so.

— Hello. — The woman said, looking at his face with suspicion, but not recognizing him at all.

— Hello, Rebecca. Long time no see. — The blonde smiled and the woman took a couple of steps back, looking at the guest in shock.

Now she recognized, even by his voice, America's most famous superhero. What she had feared and seen in her worst nightmares had happened in reality. And since he was here, he knew about Ryan. Becca didn't know what to do, although it was already clear that no one could give Homelander orders when it came to his personal affairs.

Apparently taking her actions as an invitation, the blonde calmly walked into the house, looking around with interest. He quietly chuckled, most likely noticing the hidden cameras with his X-ray vision, and turned his gaze to her.

— What are you doing here? — That was all she could squeeze out at that moment.

— What do you think? — The man smiled, taking off his glasses. — I decided to check on my son, whose existence I just recently found out about.

— He is not your son. — Becca said with even more anxiety.

— Really? Maybe we should do a DNA paternity test then? — Homelander chuckled, walking into the living room. — That was a rhetorical question.

— I already figured that out. — Becca replied, looking at his back with hatred.

Sighing and trying to collect her thoughts, the woman still closed the door that had been left open. It was unclear if Vought knew about this and what they would do in the end. But she didn't have much hope in them in such a situation. So after standing by the exit for a couple of seconds, she followed him.

Running away was pointless, especially when your pursuer flies at the speed of a military jet. So when she saw the man calmly sitting on the couch, she just sat down on the other side of him, waiting for his words.

— It's nice here. — The man decided to break the silence anyway.

— I won't give him up. — Becca declared, to make things clear.

— I didn't say I was going to take him, — Homelander sighed theatrically, looking her straight in the eyes. — I have no right to take him from you, since to him, I'm essentially no one.

— But then... — The blonde frowned, making her shut up with a single glance.

— However, he is my son, and I have the right to see him at least once a day to get to know him better. And you will facilitate this. Is that clear?

— He's just a normal boy. — Becca said in a trembling voice, instead of answering his question.

— We both know that's not true, — the man sighed, rolling his eyes. — And you're a very bad liar. So, what's it gonna be?

— Fine. — The woman forced out.

— Excellent. — He clapped his hands on his knees and got up from the couch. But he suddenly stopped and looked at her.

— And by the way, you smell delicious. Is that something floral?

— I find you disgusting. — The woman frowned, shuddering at the vile sensation from his words.

— See you around. — Homelander shrugged and, putting his glasses back on, headed for the exit of the house. Rebecca needed time to process what was happening, and he would gladly give it to her.

Only a couple of hours later she was able to pull herself together, just in time to pick up Ryan from his tutor. Taking a deep breath and exhaling, the woman opened the door of the house and, stepping outside, froze in place.

— And hello again, Rebecca. — The blonde smiled, putting down his phone.

— You've been here all this time? — She asked, furrowing her eyebrows.

— Yes, because I need to meet my son. — The man answered calmly, taking a couple of steps toward her.

— Now is not the best time, Homelander. — Becca sighed.

— You can just call me John, — America's most famous blonde requested. — I'm Homelander only when I'm in my cape.

— I see... John, — the woman said with annoyance. — Please, not now.

— Rebecca, do you really think my time is unlimited? — John replied condescendingly. — Today I'm almost completely free, but tomorrow I'm not.

— Fine, get in the car. — Barely holding back a heavy sigh, Becca walked to the SUV and got behind the wheel.

John didn't object and sat in the passenger seat.

— Funny, I haven't been in a car for over ten years, — John chuckled, looking around. — It's so cramped in here.

— I don't want to talk to you, — Becca stated categorically, gripping the steering wheel with her fingers. — Don't act like we're friends.

— But we have to, Rebecca. If we want to get along and not start arguing over trifles in front of the child.

— You raped me. We can't be friends. — Becca said, looking ahead tensely.

— Oh really, — John smirked, making her turn her head sharply towards him, out of extreme indignation. — It was a deal, like the ones you made with different companies when you were a director. So it was mutual for us.

— Is that how you saw it? — The woman looked at him with anger.

— Rebecca, I'll be frank with you, — John replied, looking at her seriously. — I didn't take you by force, you gave yourself to me willingly. You had a choice, either your job or your husband. And we both know what you chose.

— Don't talk like you know me. — Becca said through gritted teeth.

— And don't pretend you're an angel in the flesh. Not only then did you choose the company, but also afterwards, — the blonde chuckled, leaning back in his seat. — When you left your husband, becoming a missing person to everyone. And where are you now?

— That's different. — Becca muttered, realizing that she had lost this argument.

— Of course. — John said with obvious sarcasm, with a smile on his lips.

Without answering him, Becca started the car and began to drive to her son. Trying not to look at the unwanted passenger, she immersed herself in her thoughts. And to her regret, she came to the conclusion that she was equally to blame in the whole situation with the blond bastard.

Leaving her husband in the dark about her condition, cheating on him and having a child with another. Too much depended on Becca's own choice, from the infidelity to the escape from her own husband, into her own personal prison. And the realization that all this was explained to her by Homelander himself... it only made things worse.

Lost in thought, she didn't even notice that she had already arrived at the right address. After parking, Rebecca looked at her son's tutor, who ran out of the house and quickly jumped into the back seat.

— Hello. — The child politely greeted the unfamiliar man and looked at his mother with a question.

— Honey... he's your father. — She introduced her son to the stranger, without much enthusiasm.

— Well, hello, Ryan. You have no idea how happy I am to meet you, — the blue-eyed blonde in glasses smiled. — My name is John.

The man's smile only grew wider when the child's eyes lit up with red light. And Rebecca just pursed her lips and immediately tried to smile, so as not to provoke the superhero's displeasure.

Chapter Text

The cold evening air, the refreshing scent of the sea. Annie would have liked to walk here, relaxing after work, all the interviews, and photoshoots. But right now she was on a mission for the first time in her entire superhero career, and it couldn't help but make her feel anxious. And performing it with one of the members of The Seven, whose fan she was as a teenager, made her tremble with nerves.

Of course, it wasn't Homelander, since he was busy right now. And she was put in the place of Translucent, who had suddenly disappeared somewhere. But she couldn't complain about it, because this was the first serious case in her entire career and essentially her debut in the big leagues.

And then, Starlight noticed The Deep surfacing from the water in his usual getup. But just by looking at the guy, you could tell that he wasn't particularly thrilled about it. He finally reached her and stood next to her with a sigh, not even bothering to nod.

— Oh, for goodness sake, a crime on the water! Goddammit, I'm so fucking fed up! — The Deep exclaimed, as soon as an awkward silence appeared. — They only put me on missions on a pier... or on a river... a lake... a dam.

Starlight gave him a crooked smile, not knowing what to say. She had not expected this.

— Narrow-minded morons, I have so much potential! And they only put me on to dive beautifully for the camera and flex my biceps on Instagram, — The Deep grumbled. — How humiliating is this... What about you?

— Me?

— Yeah, you. What's going on with you and Homelander?

— Nothing. — Annie answered in confusion. She couldn't understand why The Deep was interested in this.

— Come on, spill it. You didn't get Homelander's protection for nothing, did you? — The Deep smirked, and the girl didn't like this smirk at all. — You didn't get it just for your pretty face.

— He saw potential in me. — The girl frowned, and the lamps began to flicker from the tension.

In stressful situations, she automatically accumulated energy, collecting it from the nearest electrical appliances. Therefore, at such moments, various lamps most often suffered and became unusable.

— Hey, come on! I'm not serious, — The Deep raised his hands, stepping back a couple of steps. — It's just not typical for Homelander.

— What do you mean? — Starlight calmed down, staring intently at the guy.

— Well, he never wastes his time on newbies, ask A-Train, — The Deep explained. — And here's a girl, and a pretty one at that. So I wanted to know what your relationship is. Just out of curiosity!

— We're not in that kind of relationship, — the blonde frowned, not understanding how he could even think of such a thing. — He was just training me to use my powers.

— Okay, now everything's clear, — the sea supe smirked, but the girl didn't notice any understanding in his eyes. — Will you show me what he taught you?

— With pleasure. — Starlight answered with anticipation, noticing an SUV that had pulled up to the hangar.

— Heh, I got you, — the guy smiled and walked to the edge. — I'll go from the rear, and you from the front. Alright, let's go!

After saying this, The Deep theatrically dived into the water, doing a backflip. Annie rolled her eyes at this posturing and went to the stairs. Not every supe is given the ability to fly, and she didn't need it. Although it would have been effective for quick travel, but she didn't have it. So she ran to the hangar in just two minutes, but she still made it in time for the start of the commotion.

The Deep was already beating up two guys, although it looked more impressive than effective. However, two more were already pulling out guns and Starlight chose them as her target. Her eyes glowed with a bright yellow light, increasing in brightness very quickly. Much faster than if it were a blast from her hands.

A direct hit of the golden beam to the chest threw one of them a couple of meters away, leaving him unconscious, the fate of the second was similar. After finishing with this, she looked at The Deep, who had just finished tormenting his opponents.

— Over here, quickly! — Ashley suddenly appeared, along with a film crew. — You're great, very dramatic!

— W-what? — Starlight was flustered, looking at all of this.

— A smile for the camera.

Annie didn't understand what they were doing here and looked at The Deep, who was smiling and saying something to the cameraman. As if he felt her gaze, he turned to the girl and winked, giving her a thumbs up. And she realized that everything had been planned from the beginning.

— Smile, Starlight. Come on!

With a quiet sigh, Annie smiled, looking at the camera. The skills from childhood and teenage competitions had not been forgotten, so she easily did everything required. But she thought that after joining The Seven, all of that was behind her. It seemed she was wrong.

***

Arthur Robinson, a tall black man in an expensive suit. You might not be able to tell by his appearance, but he was a big shot in the military industry. The head of Lockheed, an American military-industrial corporation that produces ballistic missiles and ammunition, among other trinkets.

Talking to him or people like him was a pleasure on par with swimming in a pool of shit. Everything here irritated me. From the guests at this reception to the fact that I had to deliver a whole speech about patriotism and other nonsense.

One thing was comforting, I wasn't the only one who had to suffer here, trying to appease the influential gentlemen. Maeve and Noir also participated in this, although they were not thrilled with what was happening either. Only Translucent was absent, who was apparently either getting drunk or watching someone again. A damn exhibitionist with the tendencies of a stalker.

— Okay, let's drop all this wordiness, — Robinson interrupted me mid-sentence, drawing the attention of his like-minded people to himself. — What do we need you for? Why should the government pay for you and your buddies to fly around and irritate our soldiers?

The condescending tone with which he addressed me was very annoying. What does he even understand about what he's talking about? What does he even understand about the products his corporation produces? This prick understands jack shit about it. He's only different from Madelyn in that he advertises weapons, not supes. And I'll be honest, Stillwell's job is much more difficult. So I didn't deny myself the pleasure of putting this freak's face in the dirt, right in front of his colleagues.

— You want honesty, Arthur? — I gave him a welcoming smile.

— That's exactly what I want. — Robinson smirked, waiting for my words.

I glanced at Madelyn, who was standing at the bar counter with another general. Our eyes met and I saw alarm on her face, and her eternal smile slowly faded. One glance was enough for the woman to understand that a certain blonde was up to something. But she couldn't do anything to stop me.

— Arthur, you're standing in front of me and talking so confidently, as if everything is under control. However, you don't take into account that you're sitting in the mud with your ass out, holding a crooked stick. — I openly smirked, looking at the black man who was surprised by my words.

— You'd better apologize...

— For honesty? I wouldn't dream of it, — I replied to the black man, giving him a disdainful look. — Hundreds of billions of dollars are spent on your weapons, but for some reason, they don't shoot lasers.

— Our army is the best in the world largely thanks to technology and...

— And? Is your technology helping in Afghanistan? — I smirked condescendingly, looking around at those present. — You've already lost. Your tactics aren't working and everyone has already realized this.

— And what will people like you change then?

— Everything, Arthur. And we all understand that perfectly, — I smirked at him, winking at Stillwell, who was intently watching our conversation from a distance. — A military contract is simply inevitable.

— That's not gonna happen. — Robinson frowned, looming over me, which was easy for him with his basketball player height.

— Oh really? Do you know America's oldest lie, Arthur? — I smiled and once again glanced at the people gathered around me. — That power is never criminal.

With the same smile on my lips, I headed for the exit with an unhurried gait, leaving the disgruntled "Rulers of the World" behind. What a pleasant feeling that was.

— What did you do there? — Madelyn immediately asked me, catching up with me in the hallway.

— What should have been done a long time ago.

— Homelander, do you even understand what this threatens us with? We won't see that military contract for ten years because of your words! — The woman hissed through clenched teeth.

— Really? Well, that's great, — I smiled at her, not feeling a single bit of anxiety about it. — Let Black Noir talk to them next time. He likes to keep his mouth shut. But I refuse to do that.

— Are you getting revenge on me? — Madelyn sighed, starting to massage her temples.

— That depends on how you look at it, — I replied to the woman, looking intently into her eyes. — Sometimes you have to settle for less when you're trying to take what doesn't belong to you.

— Homelander...

— Tell Stan that if he even thinks about touching my son... this unpleasant incident will seem like the most harmless thing that has ever happened to Vought, — I moved closer to the woman, who froze in fear. — Did I make myself clear?

— I... I understand.

— Well, that's great. Don't be bored, Madelyn. — I smiled at her and hurried to leave the event.

My actions may seem reckless at first glance, but with this, I showed them how expensive my resentment will be for them. And I should also sometimes remind them that I'm no longer their errand boy. They should remember this once and for all, so they don't do stupid things again.

***

It was uncomfortable and scary. Hughie was breathing deeply and often, trying to calm down even a little. He looked at the iron door, behind which was the main reason for his anxious state. And what else could you expect from a bungler like him?! He had to go and attract the attention of the fourth number in all of The Seven!

Hughie nervously scratched his hair, as hard as he could, to stop the itch. Why the hell did he agree to Butcher's offer? Why did he even bother to put that damn wiretap in the Vought Tower? Hughie knew the answer, of course, but he just couldn't stop thinking about it. The situation was rotten beyond belief.

An entire Translucent in an electrified iron cage. And the supe saw their faces and knows his name. As if that wasn't enough for the last two days, it turned out that Butcher wasn't even a federal agent, but just some kind of psychopath. And then there's that Frenchman, who can make a damn rifle bullet in a couple of hours and most likely sells illegal weapons. And it was into this deranged company that Hughie Campbell had insinuated himself, who could only have hysterics from the hopeless situation.

One thing was clear: no one was going to leave Translucent alive. And if so, he needed to find out at least something about A-Train and the day he killed Robin. This was the only thing the guy's skills would be enough for. Even if nothing worked out, he could at least try.

Pouring a glass of water, he opened the iron door, seeing an empty iron cage in front of him. He put the glass in front of the cage and stepped back, looking at the empty cage.

— So you don't want it. — Hughie mumbled and was about to take the glass.

— Wait. I'm thirsty. — Translucent finally made contact, and he could see the invisible man drinking the water.

— Listen... I need to ask you about A-Train, — Hughie began. — When he... flew through a girl... recently. Robin Ward. I want to know why? Where was he running? What was he doing?

— Was she your sister? A girlfriend? — The voice of the man sitting in the cage asked.

— A girlfriend.

— So that's what you want!

— Please, listen. These guys... they want to kill you. Tell me something and I'll...

— What? Stop them? They're listening to your every word! You're the big boss here, aren't you? — Translucent retorted with sarcasm.

— Fine. You don't want to? Oh well. I tried! — Hughie turned to the exit, clearly understanding that he wouldn't get anything from the supe.

— Kid, I'm an excellent judge of people, — a naked man appeared in front of him, with no visible differences from any other naked man. — You're terrified and you perfectly understand that you've swum in this sea of shit past the buoys. And you'd better run before you sink to the bottom.

— First we'll kill you. — Hughie frowned, looking him straight in the eyes.

He might be a coward, he might be terrified right now, but he wasn't going to run away in this situation. Since he started all this, he would see it through to the end. And if he had to kill Translucent to do that, then Hughie would do it without hesitation. If it leads him to A-Train.

— I'm invulnerable. I have impenetrable skin, I'm a fucking superhero. Did you forget? — Translucent smiled. — We destroy gangs, terrorists. We save the world every day! And who are you? A rag doll stuffed with guts and meat. Homelander will find me and he'll cut you open from your Adam's apple to your nuts. And I'll go home, sipping cocktails. Because I'm me, and you're you.

— Well, good luck, I tried. — Hughie smiled and still went out the door, slamming it shut.

— Run without looking back, Hughie. — Translucent smirked, looking at the ceiling. He was absolutely sure that they were already looking for him. And he would get out of here soon, and then tear these fucking bastards to pieces with his own hands.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

The day was sunny and perfect for flying. My hair swayed in the wind as my body floated leisurely in the air, and I looked at the ground below me. Admiring the beauty of nature was at the very least peaceful, but it didn't last long. I finally reached my destination, landing smoothly at the porch.

The knock on the door was unexpected for Rebecca, but from her heartbeat, it was clear that she had guessed who had come to visit them. Finally opening the door to me, she spent a full two seconds peering into my face. All I could do was smile, presenting myself to her in the same simple human guise.

— Why the masquerade? — She asked, slightly furrowing her eyebrows.

— And why do you have one? — I asked in return, winking at Rebecca.

My gaze at her body and a slightly changed smile immediately made her understand what I meant. She hadn't expected that from me, but she liked this peculiar compliment to her appearance. I can say that for sure.

— Still, why? Homelander never takes off his superhero outfit.

— But I'm not Homelander, — I smiled at her, causing her confusion. — My name is John, and Homelander is just a role I play for a multi-billion audience.

— So, John? — Rebecca grunted, not believing my words at all.

— Yes, Rebecca. — I smirked, winking at Ryan, who was watching me with interest.

— Fine, John, — she almost hissed, noticing her son's reflection in my glasses. — Come in.

— Thank you, Rebecca, — I nodded to her, walking inside the house. — Hello, Ryan.

— Hello. — The boy replied politely, although he looked wary.

— We were having breakfast, — Rebecca took the floor. — Join us.

— With pleasure. — I politely accepted the invitation, even though I had already had breakfast.

A whole stack of freshly made pancakes stood in the most prominent place on the table, looking appetizing. I sat down in a free seat, watching as Rebecca served breakfast to her son.

— Aquí está tu desayuno. — She said, causing me genuine surprise.

— Gracias. — Ryan replied to her.

— Spanish? — I recognized the word "thank you" pronounced by the boy.

— On Sundays, we speak en español. — Rebecca explained.

— Wow. — I expressed my surprise more explicitly.

— And do you speak Spanish? — Ryan addressed me, taking a sip of orange juice.

— No, but I speak Russian and German. — I decided to show off in front of my son. Homelander himself only knew one language, which was understandable with his pride.

— Really? — Rebecca was surprised this time.

She had never heard of anything like that, even though she was Homelander's main publicist. So she was skeptical of my words. It was understandable. If the company knew about this, they would have been using it to promote Homelander to the fullest.

— Yes, — I smiled at Rebecca and addressed my son. — You know what, Ryan? I'll start learning Spanish too, so I don't fall behind you.

— Won't it be hard for you?

— Aller Anfang ist schwer, — I winked at the child, which caused a look of confusion on his face. — That means: all beginnings are hard. Don't worry, Ryan. I can handle it.

The child nodded and began to eat his breakfast, trying not to stare at me. His certain detachment was understandable, after all, he doesn't see strangers often. My behavior in his place would certainly have been the same.

— What can I pour you? Tea, orange juice? — Rebecca decided to break the awkward silence.

— A glass of milk, please. — I politely asked her.

The breakfast was quite decent, homemade. Rebecca had clearly learned to cook much better than she did eight years ago, although I hadn't had to try her cooking before this. After all, there were no shopping centers, no restaurants, and you couldn't even order a simple pizza here. So the woman had to make do with the situation.

I should think about where to move her and the boy so that there would be no unnecessary noise in case of anything. I also need to take into account that socially, Ryan is no better than Homelander in his first days as a hero. And he, on his first day, managed to blow up a factory, which I would like to avoid in the case of his child.

Thinking about this, I automatically slowly finished the two pancakes that were on my plate. A smartphone somehow found its way into my hand, on which I was watching a viral video. A very interesting amateur video, where a blonde in civilian clothes, with bright yellow lasers from her eyes, technically knocked out two rapists. It seems Annie decided to ignore my words after all.

— John! — Rebecca almost shouted, interrupting my thoughts.

— Yes? — I gave her my attention, putting my phone away.

— It's not acceptable to be on your phone at the table. — She sighed. It seemed my behavior bothered her.

— I'm sorry, it's for work. — I replied to her, trying to give my voice a guilty tone. To which she nodded, seeing me put the phone in my pocket.

— ¿Y cuál es tu trabajo?

With a questioning look, I stared at Ryan, who had apparently asked this question. To which he decided to take pity on me and translated his words into English.

— What do you do for work?

— I'm an actor. — I answered him without hesitation.

— Really? Like Clark Gable? — Ryan asked with delight.

— Who? — I asked in response. I had never heard of such an actor in this life or the other.

— Gone with the Wind. He plays the main male role there. — Rebecca explained.

— I've never seen that movie, although I think I've heard of it.

— Maybe we can watch it together? — Ryan suggested, looking at his mother with a pleading look. — Please.

— Okay, — Rebecca smiled, giving in to the child's pressure. — It's his favorite movie.

— Hooray!

And that's how I ended up staying with them for four hours, which was how long the movie was. Watching the story of how a selfish girl turns into a bitch was certainly interesting. To a greater extent, this was facilitated by the acting, especially the main actress. But the feeling of watching the lives of shitty people... didn't leave me the whole movie.

At the end, I had to express my admiration for the movie in front of the child. And although I spoke about the movie very positively, my real impressions were not the most unambiguous. But my opinion is not the most important thing here. And in general, I never considered myself an expert on movies from the forties, which were ahead of their time and are more like movies made in the eighties. In this situation, the most important thing is that the time passed unnoticed and was engaging.

However, I simply couldn't stay there for long, so I left them shortly after watching the movie together. Now I needed to find out what Madelyn was going to do about Starlight. This woman never liked it when her proteges acted on their own. She didn't even allow Homelander to take a single step without her permission, let alone the others.

The elevator cabin, which had become familiar, had not changed during my absence, just like the corridor on the ninety-fifth floor. People were running around, not paying attention to America's main superhero. Certainly not the Earth's, as Homelander thought of himself. But the one who really paid attention to my figure was a certain blonde in a cute superhero outfit.

— Homelander! — Starlight was happy to see me.

Until that moment, she had looked extremely pensive, which indicated that something had happened.

— Starlight, you have no idea how happy I am to see you, — I smiled at her, immediately leading us to the meeting room. — So, tell me.

— About what? — Annie asked in confusion.

— About what made you so thoughtful that you almost knocked a person over. — I smirked, looking at her with a condescending gaze.

— Really?

— The purest truth, — I assured her, as the iron gates slid open. Without waiting for them to open completely, I walked inside. — So, what is it?

— Miss Stillwell wants me to wear something that's usually sold in sex shops.

— Something like a swimsuit?

— Yes. — Starlight grimaced.

— And this is necessary for the ratings. — I nodded thoughtfully, remembering the pads in Homelander's costume, which were supposed to show off his abs and mighty muscles.

— Yes, — the girl sighed. — Can you help?

— Naturally, — I smiled at the desperate girl. — And I even have a completely workable idea.

***

Madelyn was very irritated, although you couldn't tell by her appearance. The woman had learned to hide her true emotions behind a professional smile during her years of working in the entertainment industry.

Perhaps that's why what had happened over the past couple of days was so nerve-wracking for her. After all, for the first time in years, she had dropped her mask in front of Homelander, showing panic and fierce fear. Something she had never allowed herself to do, realizing the full danger coming from America's most famous blonde.

And on top of that, Translucent had suddenly disappeared. And that meant all plans for him were canceled. The son of a bitch didn't even bother to write a text message if he was going to go get drunk. This is not to mention Homelander's protest against Vought, who had previously considered himself a part of it. Now, after the news about his son, everything had changed.

Then everything went to hell. A-Train, who decided to screw up live on Instagram. And of course Starlight, the newbie, who decided to go for a walk in her civilian clothes and shoot lasers from her eyes! Fortunately, everything worked out. The heroine's rating even went up and she had to act before the popularity dropped. But... there's always that damn "but."

The woman clenched her fingers into a fist, feeling her nails dig into her palm. The ragged girl, instead of accepting a kind offer of help, stubbornly refused the new costume design, which promised to increase her rating among teenagers and adult audiences. As if that wasn't enough, the blonde started saying that everything concerning The Seven was decided personally by Homelander. Which almost drove Madelyn crazy, but she held back and clearly explained the company's policy to the naive idiot.

And then, just a couple of hours later, Homelander called her to the meeting room, something he hadn't allowed himself to do before. She's the one who calls him on the carpet, not the other way around! But this time too, Stillwell held back from unleashing all her fury on this bunch of children who were playing in their sandbox. And she had to clean up all the shit! And she was clearly not paid enough for this thankless job.

With these thoughts, she put her professional smile on her face and approached the iron gates. They smoothly opened, letting her in, where the remaining six supes were gathered, watching her with anticipation.

— Good afternoon, Madelyn. — Homelander smiled, spreading his arms wide, as if trying to hug her. But the distance didn't allow it.

— Good afternoon, Homelander, — the woman smiled back, glancing at Starlight and the new costume lying on the table. — Why did you call?

— Well, I wanted to solve one insignificant problem, — the blonde's smile became more strained and with one movement he threw the costume on the floor, right in front of Madelyn. — That's all.

— I see, — Stillwell grunted and looked around at everyone gathered. — But then why all this?

— As everyone knows, we have a democracy. Which means we should take into account everyone's voice in a decision that directly concerns the entire team. And you're needed to witness it. What do you think, Maeve?

— I completely agree. — The red-headed bitch replied, taking a sip from another glass of whiskey, giving Madelyn a contemptuous look.

— And when do we start? — Stillwell smiled, feeling a sharp pain from her nails digging into her skin more and more.

— Right now, — Homelander said carelessly. — Who is in favor of changing Starlight's costume design? Raise your hand.

Expectedly, no one voted against Homelander's decision. At that moment, Madelyn so wanted to hit the smug face of this bastard who had arranged this show of humiliation in front of her subordinates. She would definitely remember this.

— And who is in favor of leaving everything as it is? — Homelander raised his hand and everyone decided to follow the example of their nominal leader. — Well, I hope you won't challenge our decision.

— I...

— What makes you think you're allowed to decide anything here? — The person who was rightfully considered the most important man in the entire company entered the room.

It was a black man in glasses, wearing a business suit that was clearly custom-made. With an arrogant look, the same one he could use to put anyone in their place, including Homelander. So the silence was absolute, as Edgar literally suppressed with his presence.

— Stan! What a surprise! — Homelander greeted him happily, not at all embarrassed by the man's words. — Did you decide to come down from the heavens to see us?

— Witty. But I'm not the one who flies over the city all day long instead of getting things done. — Stan Edgar replied unperturbed.

— I'm just trying to make up for lost time, sir. — Homelander smiled at him. In his words, a subtext was easily guessed, which was only understood by three people in the room.

He soared above the table to fly over it and land in front of the company's CEO.

— That's no reason to jeopardize an important contract for us. — Edgar frowned, looking the blonde straight in the eyes.

— In my opinion, it's an excellent reason. — Homelander smirked, looking at him with a challenge.

— You think you're our company's most valuable asset?

— Oh no, why would you think that? — The superhero scoffed, looking at the black man with a mocking look. — But fortunately, I know what that asset is and I have it with me. Just in case. Right, Madelyn?

She flinched, feeling the ground fall out from under her feet. How was she to know a decade ago that one day he would use the knowledge of Compound V against her? The bastard just openly stated that he would publicize the information about the drug because of the newbie's fucking costume!

— And what do you want then? — Edgar asked, thereby shocking Madelyn.

Before this, he had never given in, as he always had aces up his sleeve. But it seemed that against Homelander, who didn't care at all about the future of the company, those aces were gone. At least this time, but Edgar wouldn't let this go so easily.

— A mere trifle. I'll continue to mind my own business, and you yours. And yes, you won't force my team members to do anything, — Homelander replied, looking down at the CEO, extending his hand. — Do we have an agreement?

— I suppose... yes, — for the first time in the entire conversation, Edgar allowed himself to smile, shaking the hero's hand. — See you soon, Homelander.

— See you soon, Stan. — Homelander smirked, looking at the black man with a mocking look.

Madelyn watched wide-eyed as Stan Edgar walked away, defeated by someone he considered a capricious child who could be easily put in his place. Stillwell decided to follow him, out of a desire not to stay here and to find out the further plans for Homelander. And they definitely exist.

— Ashley, please get this crap out of my sight. — Homelander requested, noticing Stillwell's assistant, who had decided to eavesdrop on their conversation.

— Yes, of course! — The girl almost shrieked, quickly picking up the costume lying on the floor.

— Well, since everything is decided, let's get back to work. — The blonde smiled, turning to the silent audience.

The first thing he noticed was a look of complete admiration from Starlight. But the same could not be said for the other team members. Shock was widespread, even in Black Noir's pose. And that says a lot.

Well, the goal was achieved even beyond expectations, and John was quite happy with it. Now he just had to wait for Edgar's retaliatory actions, and they would definitely come.

Chapter Text

Leaning against the wall, I was reading a decent-sized book with interest and even some excitement. One might think I was captivated by the plot or some unexpected twist. But no. For anyone standing close enough to see the book's cover, it would be clear that wasn't the case.

— Since when have you been learning Spanish? — Maeve asked interestedly, sitting in a chair and sipping on some cognac.

— Since yesterday, and I've achieved a lot. This is already the fourth book, — I boasted to her, closing it in the middle. — I bought it two hours ago.

— You would hardly have done something like this before... And who influenced you so much?

— My son. — I shrugged, as I wasn't going to make a secret out of it.

— You adopted a child?!

— No, of course not, he's my own. My flesh and blood.

— How is that possible? — Maeve mumbled in shock, such news seemed absurd to her.

— I don't know myself. Maybe not all of us are sterile, — I voiced my assumption. — Or maybe it all depends on the circumstances.

— And... how? How long were you going to hide this?

— I found out about it three days ago, — I informed the girl in a somber tone. — And he's already eight.

— That is... wow, — Maeve said and fell silent. The silence lasted for a couple of seconds until she couldn't hold it anymore: — What is he like? Your son.

— He's grown up into a good, kind boy. And smart too. Much smarter than I was at his age.

— Yes, children are much smarter than we were at their age, — Maeve smiled and sighed, pursing her lips. — Does he already have powers?

— He does, but he doesn't develop them and isn't aware of them. Which is for the best. — I answered her, glancing at the wall, behind which there was a whole tribune of jubilant fans.

This was not the first race of this kind that A-Train participated in. Over the years, no one had been able to overtake him to get his place in The Seven. But the race was also needed for the PR of both participants, as usually after such an event, sales of various merchandise skyrocket. And that's regardless of who won.

— You're very lucky. — Maeve smiled sadly.

— I know.

This made me remember how much she loved children. And how she literally cried after the news that she would not be able to have them. Homelander took advantage of the situation then and seduced her, but that's a completely different story.

— It's your turn. — Ashley entered the room, as always on edge.

— Thanks for the heads up, Ashley. You can go, — I smiled at her and flashed my eyes to make her quickly get out of here. — Maeve, start without me. I need to cheer up our comrade.

— Okay. — The heroine shrugged and, leaving her glass of alcohol on the table, went to the exit.

I, however, peered through the walls to see the locker room, which was for A-Train's sole use. And I didn't like what I saw very much.

Reggie was nervous, holding a bottle of Compound V in his hand. The blue liquid in the glass container caught his eye and made him swallow his now viscous saliva. The black superhero was sweating heavily, nervous about what he was about to do. Homelander's words were imprinted on his mind much more strongly than his mother's whining and his brother's moralizing.

— Fuck! — Reggie exhaled through clenched teeth, clenching the bottle in his hand.

He didn't want to die, but A-Train also didn't want to lose everything he had now. His whole life he had achieved success in every possible way. Hard workouts, after which even his body was bruised, and Compound V, which was much more convenient. He didn't have to bust his ass for an extra millisecond, and overtaking opponents was pure pleasure. But everything has consequences.

— Bitch! — Reggie shouted, throwing the bottle at the wall in a fit of emotion.

— What a waste. — A hand in a red glove easily caught the bottle mid-air, not letting it break.

— Homelander...

A-Train flinched, realizing he was being watched. Only at the last moment did he notice the blonde run into the locker room, just a blurred silhouette. Sometimes he forgot that even in terms of speed, Homelander was quite capable of competing with average speedsters. And it wasn't even worth mentioning how fast he was in flight.

The speedster would never admit it to anyone, but he was scared to death of him. Homelander was incredibly dangerous and unpredictable. He was able to see this for himself quite recently, when not only Madelyn, but even Stan Edgar was powerless to do anything. Which meant he had to play by his rules.

— This thing is worth millions. — Homelander smiled, putting the bottle into his pocket.

— I... I wasn't going to use it. It was just lying around in my bag. — A-Train tried to justify himself, but in response, he only heard laughter.

— Oh, come on. I don't care how you got it. The important thing is that you didn't do something irreparable, — Homelander smirked and, walking over, put his hand on his shoulder, which made him unable to even breathe from fear. — I didn't come here to lecture you, I just decided to support you.

— You want to get rid of me so badly? Is it because of my addiction? — A-Train still asked.

— Not at all. If I wanted to get rid of you, I wouldn't be helping.

— Helping?

— I'll talk to your opponent so he slows down a little. But then you'll have to handle it yourself, — Homelander frowned, showing how much he disliked this idea. — You have a year to get back into proper shape.

— I'll manage! — The guy replied a little sharply, but quickly realized his mistake. — I'm sorry. And... thank you, Homelander, — A-Train exhaled with relief.

— You'll owe me. — The blonde nodded and headed for the exit of the room to go to his team member's opponent.

The shockwave from landing on my knees and the gathered crowd roared with delight. Smiling, I got to my feet and waved my hand, thus satisfying the fans. After which I turned my gaze to the ladies sitting down, who were looking at me with anticipation.

— Sorry for being late. I was getting cats out of a tree, — I smiled at her, causing the journalist to smile genuinely. — Is there a place for me?

— Of course.

— You're as intoxicating as ever, my dear, — I shook her hand and looked at the gathered people. — So, are you ready for the race?!

The gathered crowd began to squeal, showing their readiness. Only after that did I sit down in the prepared seat for me and the interview began. The questions were mostly prepared questions about supes joining the army and a little about the upcoming race.

Shockwave, as A-Train's opponent was called, of course resisted when I tried to persuade him. Unfortunately, I had to resort to more obvious threats. It wasn't hard to scare the upstart, all I had to do was choke him a little and make my eyes feel hot. The guy almost pissed himself, but he still agreed to cooperate.

Meanwhile, the interview came to an end and the race began. All the cameras were aimed at the main characters, who were already waiting for the start. I, however, looked at Shockwave, and he suddenly turned to me, feeling a strong heat on his face. His heart beat faster, much faster than a human's. Seeing the subsequent nod from me, the speedster exhaled and nodded back.

It was not often that Homelander used invisible beams, although he could easily burn through steel with them. This was more likely the influence of marketers who considered red beams to be cooler and more marketable. To me, it seemed like a more convenient way to use my eye beams. And it looks less sinister, which is also a plus.

— Oh, you scared the boy. Are you proud of yourself? — Maeve feigned indignation, standing next to me.

— Only a little... But I'm not proud of it.

A shot rang out and at the same second the red and blue speedsters ran, disappearing from view. Time stood still for me, and the speed of the two opponents no longer seemed so extreme. A-Train ran with all his might, trying to overtake Shockwave. But it was clear that the rookie was already equal to him.

It was noticeable that he only had a little bit left to overtake A-Train. However, at some point, Shockwave slowed down, just a little, but noticeably for such fast runners. A moment later, A-Train reached the finish line, and my perception of reality returned to normal.

Everyone held their breath. The screen showed slow-motion footage of the last milliseconds of the race, clearly showing who won it.

— And A-Train has won again!! — The announcer shouted, along with a crowd of fans who were rejoicing at their idol's victory. — Unbelievable! Simply unbelievable! A-Train won!!

No one cared about the speed and numbers that were shown on the screen anymore. What's the difference how much slower the speedsters had become? The main thing was that expectations were met.

I grunted, turned around, and went to check on Starlight, who was giving out autographs for the first time. And she was doing quite well, not counting Ashley, who was making sure she didn't screw anything up. Smirking, I went to her, nodding at Black Noir, who was also giving out autographs.

— Ashley, do you mind if I steal Starlight? — I asked her, just for the sake of it.

— I...

— Thanks for agreeing. — I smiled at the woman, walking with a delighted Starlight to the exit of the hall.

Few visitors approached her, mostly children. However, everyone had already gotten what they needed, and she just wasn't being let go. It seemed Stillwell wanted to teach the girl a lesson this way, but yours truly intervened.

— And where are we going? — The blonde asked with interest.

— I want to treat you to the most expensive beer there is here. — I replied to the girl, which made her smile.

— Only if there are expensive nachos there.

In response, I nodded enthusiastically and we headed towards the bar, which was inside the building. Surprisingly, no one was there, which indicated that everyone wanted to see the race with their own eyes. They were probably a little disappointed when they only saw the beginning and the end, since they physically couldn't see anything else.

— So you were punished?

— Something like that, I guess... You don't give autographs to people at such... official events anymore? — She decided to change the subject.

— Very rarely. Usually in such situations, a huge crowd forms, which gets in everyone's way.

— But Black Noir doesn't have a problem with that. — She remembered the silent member of their team, who was giving autographs with her.

— You won't believe it, but no one knew about his appearance here. Except for Madelyn and Ashley, who prepared everything. So his main fans didn't come here.

— I see. — Starlight nodded thoughtfully.

— So what's it like? To know that everyone wants to sleep with you. — I asked, smiling as I looked at her figure. Quite nice, by the way. And that's without X-ray vision. But with it...

— I don't think it's like that, — Starlight objected uncertainly, looking away. — I look more like an innocent lamb than a sex symbol.

— Trust me, that's what makes you so attractive. — I smiled at her, taking a sip of orange juice.

— And do you really never drink? — She asked, trying not to look me in the eyes.

Her attempt to change the subject was even worse this time, but I decided to give in so as not to embarrass the girl too much.

— It's true, Starlight. I never drink or use anything... illegal.

— Can we call each other by our names? — The girl said uncertainly, expecting me to refuse.

— With pleasure, Annie, — a smile appeared on my face on its own. — My name is John.

— I'll remember that, John. — Annie smiled sincerely, and something in her gaze changed. Something elusive, but at the same time intuitively understandable.

Chapter Text

The girl looks at me uncertainly, and I look back with anticipation. She sighs quietly and opens her palms, in which a golden light slowly ignites. Slowly but surely, the light begins to gain strength, and the electrical appliances react to the outflow of electricity. But the light immediately goes out, and the blonde looks at me with doubt.

— John... am I sure I can do it? — Starlight says anyway, for some unknown reason stopping the experiment.

— You're doubting yourself?

— A little bit.

— Annie, I understand your doubts. But you also have to understand that I know a lot more about this than you do, — I gave a reassuring smile, shamelessly lying to the girl. — And if everything is as I assume, then you will succeed. Just try, and we'll see.

Perhaps you're wondering, "What's happening here?" and "What are you trying to achieve?". Well, I'm trying to unlock the potential of someone who can certainly lay claim to second place in The Seven. And maybe I don't understand supes' abilities, but I know a little bit about physics. And as my knowledge suggests, she'll definitely be able to fly.

— Okay. You can do it, Annie. — Starlight exhaled, pointing her palms down in the manner of an Iron Man pose.

And then there was a bright flash that would have burned out the eyes of any normal person, and the girl's sudden ascent up and back. Which would most likely have ended in bruises after hitting the wall. However, yours truly was not nearby for no reason. So it was not difficult for me to catch her in mid-flight, and the fact that my hand squeezed her firm butt, that was... an accident.

— You overdid it. — I stated, smirking when I saw her scared face.

— Uh-huh. — She took what I said as a question, nodding in confusion.

Snorting, I slowly descended to the floor, regretfully letting the girl go. She awkwardly adjusted the skirt of her superhero costume and looked at me. And something in that look told me that I had been busted anyway. But I would have been surprised myself if it had been otherwise.

— I can fly! — Suddenly shrieking in a completely childlike way, she happily hung on my neck, pulling her legs up.

I didn't try to dissuade her, just patting her back as a sign of support. After that, she moved back a couple of steps, not looking away. Now the uncertainty in her eyes was replaced by the conviction that she would succeed.

— Will you spot me? — She asked with a smile.

— With pleasure. — I answered affirmatively to her question, just nodding.

My hands rested on her waist, holding her back from a sudden flight in an unknown direction. But Starlight didn't resist in any way and didn't even express any complaints about it, which I took as a signal for action. So I slowly but surely began to close the distance between our bodies, and in the end, after half an hour, I was literally pressing myself against her from behind.

— Ha... — Starlight quietly exhaled, holding her balance in the air with the help of the light from her hands.

The lamps in the training room flickered continuously, clearly showing how much energy was being spent on this flight. But the girl was tense not because of that. Surprisingly, such a short time was enough for her to get used to the new skill. Flying outside the city or at too high an altitude should be forgotten, but it's already something.

— I'm letting go. — I warned her before stepping back a little.

— What? — Starlight asked before realizing what had happened. — Oh crap!

Crying out, she still managed to hold her balance and even turned towards me. She had to lean forward to hold her body weight in flight. And I even knew how to make her pose more aesthetic.

— You did great, Annie. — I smiled openly, landing smoothly on the floor.

— Thanks. — Nodding, the girl followed my example and landed clumsily, almost falling to her knees.

But I didn't catch her, letting her fall, although I could have prevented it. After all, her body can easily withstand pistol bullets and doesn't even get a bruise, and here she just falls. It's like with a bicycle, she has to feel independent in order to ride properly. Spotting will only slow down the progress, which is not the fastest anyway.

— But you should work on the landing. — I smiled, helping her up.

— Uh-huh. — Starlight replied, involuntarily biting her lips.

I looked into her brown eyes, meeting her gaze. Annie looked back in anticipation, not looking away. Smiling slightly, I slowly approached and gently kissed her on the lips, and she reciprocated. Our first kiss was gentle and tart. I really wanted to go further, to let my hands roam, but I managed, showing heroic willpower, to restrain myself, continuing to hug the beauty around her waist and enjoying the taste of her lips and the dexterity of her tongue, which was forced to enter into a struggle with mine.

We didn't go any further, after all, Starlight's flying practice was necessary and I didn't want to deprive her of that. We also talked, shared a little of our personal stories, sometimes stopping to refresh the memory of the taste of each other's lips. It was surprisingly nice and pleasant. The impression wasn't even spoiled by Ashley, who came to pick up the heroine for another event, leaving me alone.

The warm sun felt pleasant on my skin, a light breeze was cool, and the smell of fresh grass filled my lungs. Well, this place was definitely acceptable for living, if you didn't take into account that it was essentially a prison. Cozy, of course, but just as isolated from the rest of the world.

— Good day. — The blonde smiled, adjusting the collar of his new shirt.

— A pink shirt? — Becca stared at him wide-eyed when she opened the door.

The choice of a pink shirt seemed strange to the woman, perhaps because of her husband, who constantly wore dark clothes. Or perhaps because of Homelander's image, which implied idealized masculinity. But John had a different opinion about that.

— What's wrong with that? I walk around every day in blue tights and wear the American flag as a cape, and you're judging me for a pink shirt? — He feigned indignation, which made her laugh. — Those are double standards, sweetheart. And our society actively condemns them.

— Sorry... Heh... sorry, — the girl replied, trying to catch her breath. — It's just so unusual. Men are usually quite strict about the colors of their clothes.

— Come on, the color pink won't overshadow my masculinity, it will rather emphasize it. — John smiled, adjusting his glasses.

— Well, come in, heh, — Becca stepped aside, letting him in, only now noticing the black bag in his hand. — Did you bring something?

— It's certainly not Gone with the Wind, but it's a worthy thing too. — John smirked, pulling out a Blu-ray disc box with the cover of the fourth episode of Star Wars on it.

— Is this a new movie? — Ryan asked with interest, having come down the stairs unnoticed by his mother.

— A legendary movie that once defined the further development of cinematography, — the man handed him the movie box. — Are you interested?

— But why episode four? — Ryan asked with genuine confusion, noticing a strange detail in the title.

— Because Lucas decided that way, — John said with inspiration, and then laughed at his own words. — In fact, the creator of these movies conceived everything in a different chronological order, but did not have the opportunity to film the prequel. So yes, the story starts in the middle.

— Wow. — The boy expressed his surprise.

— At least that's how he justified the four in the title of the first movie, — John smirked, ruffling the boy's hair. — Are you interested?

— Of course! — The boy even got a little indignant, looking at the cover, and then gave his mother a pleading look. — Can we watch it?

— Can we, Rebecca? — John tried to imitate the boy's look, which looked more comical than pleading.

— Okay, okay, you can, — the woman gave in to the double pressure, smiling at this light atmosphere. — Only after your lessons!

— Oh, mo-om!

— After your lessons, Ryan. And that's non-negotiable. — Becca stated firmly.

— Okay, — the boy sighed, and immediately cheered up. — I only have math left!

Before she could say a word, the boy was already in his room, bypassing all obstacles in his path in a matter of seconds. Becca looked at Homelander with disapproval, to which he only smiled apologetically, handing her a bag with six boxes.

— He won't be able to fall asleep. — Becca sighed, taking the bag.

— Only the first movie, — the blonde smiled. — And the rest tomorrow.

— Will you stay and watch? — She asked, walking into the living room, after which she placed the bag on the table.

— If you don't mind... But I'm not insisting. — John assured her.

— You can stay, — she resigned herself to the man's presence. — Just behave yourself.

— Absolutely, — the blonde nodded, when suddenly his phone rang. He didn't get calls often, so Homelander picked up the phone. — Hello?

A second ago, his relaxed face suddenly became extremely tense, as he listened to what was being said on the other end. Homelander frowned, listening to someone almost screaming into the phone.

— Calm down, — the man said in a calm tone, hearing a hysterical voice on the other end. — Where are you? I'm already on my way.

— Something serious? — Becca asked with concern.

— No need to worry, it's work, — a smile appeared on the blonde's lips, but this time it was clear that it was completely fake. — Watch without me, but I'll try to sort it out as soon as possible.

— Okay. — Becca nodded, seeing him out.

As soon as Homelander walked a couple of steps away from the porch, he immediately soared into the sky. Only the blurred silhouette of the most powerful superhero on Earth was visible for the first couple of seconds, until he disappeared from view altogether.

Becca watched after him anxiously, frowning. If Homelander himself showed concern, the situation was truly serious. It couldn't be otherwise.

Chapter Text

The flight didn't last long, only about ten minutes. However, in doing so, I was left without clothes, which simply could not withstand such a load. My shirt tore very easily, as did my pants, but that no longer bothered me. I flew into my apartment at a more acceptable speed, albeit almost naked.

Changing into my suit didn't take long, and then it was a flight to New Jersey. In total, all of this took about twenty minutes, during which I had already reached an empty beach. This was followed by a smooth landing in front of the one who called me and an inspection of the area for anything suspicious. And nothing was alarming, except for a suitcase lying on the sand. Specifically, the fact that I couldn't see through it.

— What's in the suitcase, Deep? — I asked the guy, who was sitting on the sand and hadn't noticed my arrival.

— Homelander! — He stood up abruptly, seemingly happy about my quick arrival. — I... Hitch told me he found a suspicious suitcase, so I took it out.

— What is Hitch?

— It's... a sea lion I talk to. — Deep confessed with shame.

— Interesting. So Hitch found the suitcase deep underwater? — I didn't let on that I had noticed that.

— Yes, that's right. — Deep nodded, feeling relieved that he wasn't being ridiculed again for his ability.

— But what does this have to do with what I heard on the phone? You told me you found Translucent and that this wasn't a phone conversation, — I said irritably in response, gradually realizing that I shouldn't have rushed here. — So where is he?

— Ahem... he's here. — Deep pursed his lips and, walking over to the suitcase, opened it wide.

— Holy shit. — I couldn't hold it in, seeing the impressive picture of human entrails.

My gaze immediately noted the transparent shards that were inside. They were similar to those that usually appear when a glass breaks, only larger and covered in flesh, with blood. And on the inside of the suitcase, there was an inscription written in Translucent's blood: You're next.

— How could they have pulled this off? He's invulnerable! — Deep exclaimed almost hysterically.

I just stared in surprise at what was left of one of the most effective supes. And it was unclear who he could have pissed off so much to be treated so... inhumanely. Translucent had never been known for anything that could tarnish his reputation, other than peeping on everyone.

In general, each of The Seven had their sins, but they weren't significant enough to get killed for. Although, with A-Train, that's no longer the case. I feel like it's all connected somehow and I really don't like it. I took a deep breath and smelled the scent, one that can be distinguished from others almost anywhere.

— They put a bomb in him. — I mumbled, thus answering the guy's question.

— What kind of psycho could have done this? — Deep said, stunned.

— Even though he's a psycho, he's a smart one. — I replied dispassionately, closing the zinc suitcase, the only material I can't see through.

— And what's next? — The guy asked, puzzled. Given that he probably hadn't faced something like this before... the question was self-explanatory.

Next, I had to act as an air courier, taking two packages at once for convenience. It was still a pleasure, especially because of how Deep screamed in fear. It seems the sky is not his thing... I probably should have slowed down. But I wasn't going to put this off for long, so I dumped it on those who were responsible for the safety of their employees and constantly monitor them.

— Why did you call, Homelander? — Madelyn asked with displeasure, just entering the conference room.

— Oh, nothing... I just wanted to ask you directly: Where is Translucent now? — I replied to her in the same tone.

— He's in New Jersey, — the woman rolled her eyes, as if I had asked something stupid. — He's getting drunk and hiding from us, again. You know him.

— Really? Then what is this? — I kicked the suitcase to draw her attention to it.

— A suitcase. — Stillwell snorted, looking at me with annoyance.

— Deep, if you please. — I smiled at him, and the guy obeyed without a word and opened the contents of the suitcase.

— Oh my God!! — The woman allowed herself to raise her voice and immediately turned away, trying to catch her breath. Yes, at her age, you shouldn't get too worked up.

— I hope you realize that you're the one who messed up, — I snorted in displeasure, giving her a hard look. — If you had acted in a timely manner, nothing like this would have happened.

— Are you trying to blame me for this? — Madelyn frowned, clenching her fingers into a fist.

— Come on, I just want you to deal with it. Nothing more, — I waved my hand towards the supe's remains. — It's your job. And it would be desirable to find the people who did this. After all, he's not some second-rate hero for this to go unnoticed. And then let me know, if it's not too much trouble.

— It's not too much trouble. — Stillwell hissed and, giving Deep a sharp look, left the room.

It may seem that I don't care about Translucent's death, but that wasn't the case. I felt relief that I didn't have to deal with him myself. Yes, this transparent supe, although he was one of the purest people in terms of reputation, knew too much, as he liked to spy on everyone.

That's why he had enough dirt on the company and on a great many heroes, including all of The Seven. And this voyeur only thought about himself and his own skin, and I didn't want to have such a team member. You never know what to expect from him, so I don't care. It's amazing how easily your attitude towards death changes when you've been through it yourself. Knowing that there is life on the other side, it's hard to perceive death as the end. And I couldn't explain my presence here any other way, given my heart problems.

— She's really pissed off. — Deep commented on her behavior, no longer so sure that he should have called Homelander and not Stillwell herself.

— That's an understatement, buddy. But I assure you, she won't do anything, — I smiled at the guy, patting him on the shoulder. — And now I have to go.

Before Deep could recover from the painful pat on the shoulder, I disappeared from view, flying out, leaving him alone. At full speed, I flew straight up, where there are no insects and especially no birds.

During this short time, the sky had managed to become something of a place for me to think. To properly reflect on what I should do in a given situation. And now I was again slowly (by my standards) flying to Ryan and Rebecca, thinking about who could have done this.

And these thoughts led to the conclusion that I had too little information. It was unclear when Translucent disappeared, who had a grudge against him, and who it could be. The only thing that was clear was that it was definitely a group of people who made it clear that they were not interested in any money. This was something personal.

Campbell immediately came to mind, the guy whose girlfriend A-Train turned into mincemeat. Translucent's death looks too symbolic. And it could also be one of the hundreds or thousands of people who were harmed by the members of The Seven. There were even meetings of those who suffered from the actions of supes, like Alcoholics Anonymous. Homelander monitored several of them, just to laugh at the stupidity of people who often blame themselves for what happened.

So in the end, there were no leads, except for the guy who had recently lost his girlfriend. And I think I should follow him, just for the sake of it. Freezing in place, I spent a few seconds thinking about this and turned around, flying back to the Vought Tower.

— Hello, Ashley. — I smiled at the girl, who flinched at my sudden appearance, when she had just left Stillwell's office.

— H-homelander. — Madelyn's assistant stammered helplessly.

— Could you help me with one minor problem? — I asked with a smile, putting my hand on her shoulder.

— Yes, of course. — Ashley smiled back crookedly.

— Very good, — I nodded to the girl. — Find me the address of a certain Campbell, please.

— Who? — The girl asked sincerely, which annoyed me. Another proof that ordinary people are not considered human here.

— The guy whose girlfriend was run over by A-Train while chasing robbers. — I explained patiently, at which I saw a realization in her eyes.

— But why do you need his address? — She asked uncertainly.

— I decided to personally apologize for the tragedy that happened. — I answered the girl with the most honest look.

— Really? — Ashley looked at me in surprise.

— Purest truth.

— I'll send you the address by email. — She tried to smile in return, but it didn't work out well.

— Just make it quick. — I nodded to her and calmly left, and three minutes later the address arrived on my phone.

— Yeah, Dad. What's wrong? — Hughie answered the call, looking away from the team that had gathered at his place.

The big black muscular guy, whom everyone calls Mother's Milk or M.M. The Frenchman, an explosives expert, as it turned out. And Butcher, literally a Butcher, who without hesitation blew up Translucent inside an iron box, like an egg in a microwave. They all looked at him with interest, as nothing interesting had happened during this time. And watching a Chinese restaurant all day wasn't exactly exciting.

— Yeah, I'm glad to hear you too. — Hughie said uncertainly, who couldn't understand how he hadn't been kicked out of here yet.

— You have no idea who came to visit us. — His father said happily.

— Homelander! — The man shouted, and everyone present perked up.

Hughie pursed his lips, seeing Butcher mouth to him to put it on speakerphone. He looked at the men of not the most virtuous appearance, who were watching him carefully and intently. Sighing, he turned on the speakerphone.

— Dad, just don't tell me you hired an entertainer. — In his mind, Hughie was just begging for it to be exactly that.

— What do you mean, I'm quite real, Hughie. — The words came through, which made the guy tremble. And not just him, he realized from the shocked faces of the Frenchman and M.M., Butcher just frowned.

— He's real! He even autographed your comic book and T-shirt! — His father continued with delight.

My mouth went dry. Hughie immediately lunged for the water bottle, greedily drinking the disgustingly warm liquid in large gulps. Only after emptying the bottle did he begin to breathe, deeply, to calm his furiously pounding heart.

— Hughie! Can you hear me? — Meanwhile, his father continued.

— Answer him! — Butcher tried to bring him back to his senses, giving him a painful slap. But Hughie just looked at him, not reacting to anything.

— Hughie! It seems the connection was cut off, — the guy's father said with annoyance. — Maybe I should call back?

— No need, I just wanted to apologize for what my colleague did, — Homelander's insinuating voice came through. — I know that in such moments, support is very necessary. Without it, there is a high chance of falling under the influence of not the most virtuous people.

— Really? — The man replied to him in surprise. — Hughie... has really been acting strange in recent days.

The group tried not to even breathe too loudly, afraid that they would be heard. They were lucky that the forty-year-old man wasn't so good with technology and never hung up himself. So they should take advantage of the opportunity.

— And how has he been acting? — Homelander asked with interest.

— He recently packed his things and left with some guy, and before that, he tore all the posters off the walls in his room.

Butcher clenched his teeth in fury that they could be found because of this. The Frenchman grabbed his head, anxiously waiting for the continuation. M.M. was tense and was considering the option of abandoning this whole idea of ​​confronting supes, as he was not going to expose his wife and children to danger. But Hughie had just come to his senses, listening to his father's words in shock.

— And you don't remember his face, this suspicious person?

— No, my eyesight is bad, as you can see, — Hughie could swear that at that moment his father adjusted his glasses on his nose, even without seeing it. — I won't even be able to identify his car.

— That's a pity, that would have helped a lot, — Homelander replied to him, and they heard his steps moving away. — Thanks for your hospitality. See you soon, Mr. Campbell.

— See you soon. — The man's answer came through, and the sound of the door slamming.

For several minutes, they instinctively listened to the sounds from the phone's speaker, until the sounds of some comedy TV show became audible. Everyone exhaled with relief and Hughie finally hung up.

— You can't go back. You'll live with me for now. — Butcher decided, frowning and looking at the guy.

Hughie could only nod at the words of their unspoken leader. Returning now was definitely not an option. The possibility that Homelander had correlated the day Translucent disappeared with Hughie's visit to the Vought Tower was too great. He could only hope that nothing would happen to his father.

Chapter Text

Ryan watched the television screen with admiration, seeing Luke Skywalker striving to understand the ways of the Force and become a Jedi. He saw the Rebels opposing the Emperor and Darth Vader, who wanted to seize power over the entire galaxy. The boy was thrilled by the events and the heroes on the screen, especially Han Solo and Darth Vader, the most colorful characters in the film.

Needless to say, the next film of the trilogy was put on immediately after the first? It wasn't until the middle of the movie that a knock came at the door, which made Becca get up from the couch and go to greet the visitor. She opened the door and met Homelander's intensely thoughtful gaze.

She immediately understood that something truly out of the ordinary had happened. Even the black T-shirt, which could in no way hide the man's muscles and abs, didn't attract her attention more than John's bad mood. Becca became extremely curious about what had transpired. But she didn't want to spoil the movie for her son, who rarely watched television anyway.

— Come in, we're already on Episode V. — The woman informed him in a whisper.

— Really? — John brightened up. — So he liked it?

— More than. — Becca smiled, heading to the living room, and it didn't escape her notice how the man's gaze lingered on her lower ninety.

The next hour and a bit flew by unnoticed while watching the movie. Ryan watched in shock as Luke and Darth Vader fought, the latter confidently winning the battle against the young Jedi. And when the boy's hand was cut off, the boy's eyes even turned red from the excitement.

Becca immediately turned to Homelander, who only gave her a reassuring smile. If their powers were identical, the boy wouldn't accidentally shoot a laser from his eyes. After all, emotion alone wouldn't be enough; he would still need to direct it to the right spot. Thus, he wasn't particularly worried about it, and in doing so, he seemed to calm Becca, who was anxious about her son.

— How is that possible?! — Ryan asked excitedly after the movie ended. — Darth Vader is Luke's father?! Is that true?

— Absolutely. — John smiled, ruffling his hair.

— Can we watch Episode VI? — Ryan asked, glancing briefly out the window. This did not escape his mother's notice.

— It's evening already, and you need to be rested tomorrow, — Becca looked at him strictly, and then softened her tone. — You'll watch it tomorrow, and now go brush your teeth and go to bed.

— Fine. — The boy replied with regret, holding his gaze on John for a second. The man shook his head at this, showing his helplessness in the situation.

After putting the child to bed, they went down to the kitchen, where the woman brewed tea. Throughout the movie, Becca had noticed that Homelander was too often lost in his own thoughts. So she decided to ask what was bothering the superhero.

— What happened? You flew off so suddenly. — She said, placing a mug of hot tea in front of him.

— It's... work. Don't worry about it. — He replied, sipping the hot beverage.

— John, I know we're not that close. But you yourself said you wanted to be at least friends, — Becca sighed, not understanding why she was saying this nonsense. Most likely, curiosity was to blame. — So take the first step toward it.

— Fine, — Homelander frowned. — Translucent died.

— What? But he's invulnerable! — Becca exclaimed in shock, immediately covering her mouth. She didn't want to wake Ryan with her shouts. — How is that possible?

— He was blown up by a bomb from the inside, as far as I can tell from the... remains. You don't need the details, I hope. — The man sighed, taking another sip of tea.

— Who could have done that? — Becca asked anxiously.

— Unknown so far, but we'll find them. — Homelander assured her.

He didn't mention that he had already found something. How surveillance cameras had captured Hughie Campbell getting out of a black Cadillac Fleetwood and heading toward the building. And despite the fact that the cameras weren't good enough for clear footage, the car's license plate was clearly visible. And the owner of the car was the former military man William Butcher, Becca's husband, who shared the same surname.

And what a wonderful coincidence that Campbell's workplace was soon rammed by a car of the same model, which then fled the scene. Traces of a fight and blood were found inside the electronics store. This, despite the fact that someone erased all the recordings from the surveillance cameras inside. And the next day, Translucent didn't come to visit the boy with cancer, which forced Madelyn to replace him with A-Train.

— But you shouldn't trouble your head with that, because there's something more important.

— More important?

— Yes, one question has been bothering me lately, and I'd like to ask you, if you don't mind, of course. — He decided to start indirectly, not giving away what the conversation was leading to.

— And what question is that? — Becca asked warily.

— Why are you here?

— What are you talking about? — She frowned.

— All this, — he gestured around the kitchen and seemingly the entire guarded territory. — Why did you consciously lock yourself in a cage? — There was no judgment in Homelander's words, just childlike curiosity. And Becca didn't like that.

— Shall I remind you whose fault it is that I'm here?

— You know I have perfect memory. And you're not here because of me, but by your own will, — he sighed, pushing his mug away. — Because the reason isn't Ryan. His abilities only appeared recently, and the birth went successfully. You could have easily chosen a more populated place, but you chose this one. So the question arises: Why?

— It's none of your business. — Becca replied sharply.

— And that's where you're wrong, — Homelander countered with steel in his eyes. — Everything that concerns you will inevitably concern our son. And I cannot allow anything to threaten him.

— No one will threaten him while he is here.

— Do you think that will last long? That he won't want to see the world one day?

— What are you getting at?

— At the fact that he won't stay here, because I'm taking you both away from here, — the man's gaze became so heavy that she lacked the courage to object. — And I need to know what you were so afraid of that you even agreed to this. Believe me, the sooner I know about it, the better it will be for us.

— I was afraid of Billy, my husband, — Becca spoke through clenched teeth, at which Homelander nodded, encouraging her to continue. — He... was in the war and it left a strong mark on him. When he gets angry, Billy becomes practically uncontrollable and can do terrible things. And I was afraid that he would kill Ryan if he found out... who his father is.

— I see, that's why you locked yourself up here, — Homelander sighed, getting up from the table. — Thank you for your hospitality, Rebecca, but I have to go.

— Wait! — Becca exclaimed, standing up abruptly, subsequently knocking her mug to the floor. — Shit!

— What's gotten into you? I'm not going to do anything to him, why would I bother, — the blond rolled his eyes. — See you tomorrow.

Becca silently and thoughtfully watched him to the door.

— John. — The woman suddenly called out to him when he was about to fly away.

— Yes? — He turned back to her.

— Thank you.

— You're welcome. — John nodded before flying off.

Becca watched this for only a couple of seconds until he finally disappeared from view. She quietly sighed and went back into the house. Well, the conversation went quite well, Homelander thought, making sure she didn't do anything foolish.

---

Butcher found it difficult to fall asleep, and Hughie with his baby shampoo wasn't even to blame for that. The smell was certainly too... sweet, but it was tolerable. Something else was bothering the war veteran, something much more unsettling.

Exhaling, he got up from the mattress and went to brew some tea. Maybe it's too obvious a stereotype, but Brits mostly drink tea, and Billy was no exception. For the next five minutes, he stared mindlessly at the electric kettle boiling, waiting for the click. A teabag in a mug and boiling water—the perfect recipe.

Smiling at his thoughts, Butcher sipped his tea and blissfully closed his eyes. At least there was something good in his frankly shitty life, he admitted in such moments. Exhaling, Billy went out onto the balcony to feel the night coolness on his skin. The fact that he usually slept only in shorts helped with this.

Sipping his tea again, Butcher looked up at the sky in relaxation, only to freeze like a statue of himself. The smile immediately vanished from his face, and his eyes stopped blinking, fixed on one point. Or rather, on two red points.

His hand squeezed the mug as he kept his eyes on Homelander's eyes. And this Supe could be no one else. Only the blonde bastard had the characteristic red lasers, and he also flies. And yes, Butcher had recently blown up his coworker, so the conclusions were obvious.

For another couple of minutes, nothing changed. Homelander remained in place, watching Butcher. He, in turn, looked back defiantly. The man no longer cared, since he had been found. The only thing he would regret before his death was that he hadn't been able to take revenge for his wife.

But to his great surprise, Homelander flew off in an unknown direction, leaving him alone on the balcony. It took a couple of seconds for this to sink in, and finally taking a free breath, he sipped his tea and immediately spat it out with disgust.

— Fuck! — Butcher exclaimed heartily, wincing at the taste of the cold drink.

It was unclear which caused him greater annoyance: the terrible taste of the tea or the unfulfilled expectations of meeting Homelander. No one but him would ever know that, even under the threat of death.

Chapter Text

Stepping forward with concentration, I carefully stopped so that my left foot landed about fifteen centimeters from the start of the lane. And leaning over, I released the ball on the last step, just as it moved past my ankle. The ball rolled down the lane, while I concentrated on the result of the throw and subsequently sighed in disappointment.

— Not a bad throw. — Annie smiled, patting me on the back encouragingly.

— What? Really? — I answered her with unconcealed sarcasm, looking at the completely untouched pins.

— Yeah, not knocking down a single pin in eight frames... that takes effort. — The blonde's smile became crooked and she immediately laughed, clutching her stomach.

— And anyway, it's not my fault that the ball is too light, — I snorted, picking up the ball and easily tossing it into the air, as if it were some kind of bouncy ball. — Maybe I should order a ball made of platinum?

— Better iridum then, just to be sure, — Annie smirked. — Even though it's radioactive, it's unlikely to harm Homelander himself.

— And Homelander is more concerned about it harming Starlight. So we'll stick to platinum, — I smiled, hugging the girl. — Bowling definitely isn't for me.

— Well, I thought so too until I spent months learning it, — Annie smiled, gently kissing me on the lips and immediately pulling away. — I even participated in some tournaments, but didn't achieve much success.

With those words, she took my ball and, walking to the lane with relaxed steps, released it. The ball rolled straight and ended up knocking down all the pins except one, on the very edge. The girl didn't react to this at all and took another ball in her hands.

— That's why I didn't succeed in this, — Annie shrugged and with another throw completely destroyed her opponent, a role played by yours truly.

A break in the company of a beautiful girl definitely did me good. All those intrigues and Edgar's plans to get leverage over me somehow faded away. And there was no need to even talk about the various events I was "required" to participate in. I feel like I'll soon be sick of hearing about photo shoots for milk advertisements. My less-than-bright thoughts were interrupted by the ringtone of Annie's phone.

— It's Ashley. — The girl sighed, looking at the screen.

— You can answer it.

— Hi, Ashley. — She nodded and picked up the phone.

I, meanwhile, looked thoughtfully at the pins in the distance, slowly drifting into my own thoughts. I need to do something about Butcher. The guy wasn't afraid of me at all, but rather was in a furious rage, looking at me. Such a person certainly won't stop at what he's achieved... unless I show him that the reason for his actions is a lie.

Butcher has a grudge against me because of Rebecca's disappearance, and it's possible he blames me for it. So I should show him that she's alive and well, and he'll lose the motivation to pursue supes. However, I didn't want to do that. For the last week, they had been staking out one of the locations where Compound V was being transported. And honestly, it would be better if they exposed that place.

I had already talked to A-Train about stopping the illegal supplies of the Compound, or rather to terrorist organizations. I simply couldn't allow this to continue because, unlike Homelander, I didn't need that damn contract with the military at all. And even less so the presence of supes among terrorists. Fortunately, only about twenty doses of the Compound fell into their hands. It's a shame I can't fly there and take them by force, as that's outside my jurisdiction. Such a commotion would start that it would be better to just blow up the White House to hell. Of course, I'm exaggerating.

— I'm sorry, but I have to go. — Annie sighed, interrupting my thoughts.

— Want a ride? — I smiled, turning my gaze to her.

— Well, I wouldn't mind. — She smiled back.

— Linda, the check, please. — I addressed the waitress.

— And how do you always remember their names? — Annie asked in surprise.

— Just a good memory. — I boasted, paying for the food.

Leaving the establishment, we headed into an alley to avoid attracting attention. But the opposite happened.

— Alright, hand over the cash, fast! — An African American man with a knife approached us.

Annie and I automatically exchanged glances, both finding the situation amusing. I shook my head at the girl's unspoken question and looked at the guy.

— Put the knife down, kid. You don't want trouble, do you? — I asked politely, which only made him angry.

— I'll stab your ass now, you hear! — He exclaimed, not at all alarmed by our calmness.

— You're not leaving me any choice. — I sighed and grabbed his arm with the knife.

The guy stared at this in shock, feeling my steel grip on his wrist. A second later, I let him go, taking the kitchen knife.

— I advise you to find a job, it'll be less stressful. — I looked at him with pity and bent the knife with my fingers right in front of his eyes.

— Oh my God! — The shocked would-be thief screamed and simply ran away from us.

— Weren't you a little too harsh on him? — Annie snorted, watching the whole spectacle with interest.

— He deserved it. — I smiled, picking the girl up in my arms like a princess.

I slowly ascended into the sky to fly to the Vought Tower without any fuss. It's surprising how few people look up. People prefer to look down or at the road, and even more often at their smartphone screen. So the supes flying in the daytime without costumes were not noticed by anyone, and we reached our destination without hindrance.

Soon after, we parted ways, and a message came in from Madelyn. Ignoring my appearance, I entered the elevator, going up to the required floor. At some point, it stopped and the doors opened, revealing Queen Maeve in all her glory. She glanced at me and walked in, apparently not recognizing Homelander in me at all, and then glanced at the buttons before burying herself in her smartphone.

— ... — I had nothing to say. If Maeve didn't recognize me, Madelyn certainly wouldn't.

The elevator opened on the right floor and Maeve got out first, apparently heading to the meeting room. I followed her, which she couldn't help but notice, but chose to ignore. Our boss was already waiting at the entrance, typing something on her tablet.

— Why did you call? — Maeve asked immediately, drawing attention to herself.

— Finally, you've come, and where is... Homelander? — The woman looked at me, narrowing her eyes.

— Homelander? — Maeve stared at me in shock.

— What? Am I forbidden to dress like a normal person now? — I snorted, taking off my glasses. — Why did you call, Madelyn? Is it something urgent?

— Yes... yes, very urgent, — the woman nodded, composing herself. — Seven minutes ago, a plane from Paris to Chicago was hijacked right over the ocean.

— So, seven minutes ago...

— We have our people there.

— How many hijackers? — Maeve decided to ask her.

— It looks like there are three of them.

— In other words, there might be three of them. — I corrected the woman.

— Please leave us. — Stillwell asked, ushering the people out of the meeting room.

— International waters. — I snorted, seeing the place where the plane was currently located on the screen.

— Yes, if you intervene, no one will object, — the woman smiled, looking at us. — If you bring back all the passengers alive, not a single congressman will vote against our bill.

— I see. — I nodded, looking grimly at the thick dot on the screen.

— Change your clothes, and quickly, — the woman smiled. — Every second counts, you will be briefly briefed right now.

Stillwell sent an assistant for my suit while they explained to us how to act in this situation to avoid casualties. In essence, it was simple. Open the plane door, and then close it to prevent depressurization. Then neutralize the terrorists as quickly as possible and preferably leave at least one pilot alive. That was all.

We started on this the second I put on the suit. I picked up Maeve by the waist and flew at full speed towards the plane. Opening the plane door, as expected, was not difficult. Force was not the issue here; the main thing was that the door didn't break from the stress.

Pushing Maeve inside, I watched the professional take-down of the terrorists without unnecessary blood and decided not to interfere with the girl. The first one in her path she threw out the exit while the door was still open. She broke the second one's neck, and gave the third a concussion with a blow to the head. And it looked quite impressive, I tell you, and most importantly, fast.

— Everything will be fine. — She began a dialogue with the passengers while I had to close the door behind me.

— Homelander! — A girl screamed when she saw me.

The rest of the passengers also paid attention to me, starting to shower my person with applause. But I wasn't concerned with that. Well, so far one of the pilots was alive. The bad news was that a gun was pointed at the second one's head. And Maeve couldn't see it through the closed door, but I could.

A blink, and I pierced the frankly flimsy door with my body, immediately deflecting the pistol barrel towards the pilot's corpse, just in case. Another moment to take the gun, and my fingers squeezed the terrorist's neck. A death rattle, after which the unfortunate hijacker's life was interrupted with a crunch. My first kill, and for some reason, I absolutely don't care.

— Sir, are you alright? — I asked the pilot, who was looking at me in shock.

— Yes, I'm fine. — He nodded, then looked at his partner's corpse.

— Can you continue the flight?

— The plane is on autopilot, — the man answered, glancing at the second pilot again. — I don't feel so good.

— Homelander? — Maeve called out to me, but was ignored.

— You can go to the restroom, — I patted the pilot on the back as a sign of support. Waiting until he left, I looked at the heroine. — What?

— What happened? — Maeve frowned. — You are usually calmer.

— Maeve, we almost lost the plane along with hundreds of passengers. Do you think I should be calm in this situation? — I sighed, looking at the corpses. — We need to move them somewhere. The pilot didn't like the sight.

— Alright, where to?

— Somewhere out of the way, we still have four hours to be here. And I don't like the smell of corpses and shit. — I grimaced, and the girl agreed with me.

Fortunately, there was a hatch in the cockpit that led to the baggage compartment. This guaranteed the absence of an unpleasant smell and a quite comfortable flight for the two unforeseen passengers; we were even given two seats next to each other. All that remained was to wait for the landing and probably give autographs to a hundred people. What could be simpler?

Chapter Text

The rest of the flight went quite well, despite John's concerns. There were significantly fewer people who wanted autographs from the superheroes, about forty. But there were many more selfie enthusiasts. He even suspected that he had been photographed while sleeping.

Otherwise, everything went quite well, and Maeve was pleased. The heroine even talked to the children, telling stories from her work, the ones that were as heroic as possible. And there were so many of those at the beginning of her career that the story could be stretched for hours. Which she did, and tired the children out so much that they passed out before landing.

— It's not often I see a smile on your face, — John said when she sat down next to him. — I'd like to see it more often.

— They... they just remind me of why I decided to become a hero, — Maeve smiled, looking at him. — Don't you feel the same way when you look at your son?

— Well, considering he has no idea what his father does for a living... I guess not, — John shook his head, thinking for a moment. — No, but I feel something else. It's much stronger than whim, duty, or desire. It's more of an instinct to protect a part of myself from anything... at any cost. Do you understand?

— Unfortunately, no. — Maeve murmured thoughtfully, turning away to the window.

She no longer saw Homelander's gaze, but she was sure he was now bewildered by her behavior. She didn't really want to continue the conversation, if only because of the burning envy, which could lead her to say too much. The landing was successful and the passengers even broke out in applause for both the pilot and the heroes. Reporters with cameras and many others were already waiting outside, in a word, paparazzi. During these hours, they had managed to learn about what happened and who saved the day. Homelander and Maeve stepped forward to draw the press's attention to themselves.

— Want to? — The blonde offered.

— I'll pass. You love attention, after all. — Maeve immediately backed away, letting him take the lead.

— Homelander, was what you did legal? Aren't you forbidden from interfering in the affairs of other nations! — Journalists immediately descended upon them, blinding them with camera flashes.

— Flight Thirty-Seven was flying over the ocean, which slightly untied our hands. And since so many innocent lives were at stake, we couldn't help but take the risk. Fortunately, everything went successfully. — The blonde smiled, barely holding back the urge to fly out of this unpleasant environment like a cork.

— Were there any casualties?

— The co-pilot was shot before we arrived, unfortunately, we learned about it too late. — Homelander continued with sorrow on his face.

And it continued for another thirty minutes. The most irritating minutes of his life, John admitted. Homelander might have considered attention to his person a given, but this quality definitely hadn't been passed on to him. So he didn't last long and eventually flew away from the irritating reporters, grabbing Maeve by the waist.

Soon they returned to New York, landing smoothly right in front of the Vought Tower. They walked inside at a leisurely pace, hearing congratulations on their successful operation. Silence only came when they entered the elevator, where they were alone. And it didn't last long.

— How are things with Starlight? — Maeve suddenly asked.

— We've had four dates.

— Have you managed to get her into bed yet?

— In progress. — He replied and felt a peculiar smell that was hard to mistake for anything else. However, the dialogue abruptly faded at this point.

— Want to come up for tea? — Maeve "unexpectedly" offered when the elevator doors opened on her floor.

— I'd love to. — John smiled, receiving the same smile in return. Which meant she knew that he knew that... well, never mind.

A couple of minutes later they were inside Queen Maeve's apartment, which had a special spacious room for sword training. As far as John knew, she used to train every day for three hours... in the past. In recent years, his relationship with Homelander wasn't such that he would know any details about it. Not that he was interested in it at all.

Maeve went to the bathroom, under the pretext that she was all dusty, and fortunately, he himself did not suffer from such problems. At a certain speed, no obstacle could cause him discomfort, including dust. Sighing, he sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, quickly stumbling upon the news, where they were talking about the very recent heroic deed.

John might have wanted to hear what the media thought about their action, but the noise from the water droplets falling on his partner's body actively interfered with this. And no matter how strong his will was, he couldn't resist and still looked towards the bathroom.

The question might arise why he does this if he can look through clothes at any moment? A long time ago, the girl applied zinc sputtering to her armor so that one pervert wouldn't constantly stare. And she did the right thing. In recent years, Homelander had never seen Maeve naked, meaning through the armor.

A very interesting sight opened up before his eyes, which made his heart beat faster. Standing in the shower stall with her back to him was an absolutely naked, luxurious figure. Long wet red hair cascaded down her snow-white back like a bloody waterfall, along with drops of water. Lowering his gaze a little, John was finally able to fully appreciate the trained, firm butt, the mere sight of which made his pants very tight.

Under the streams of hot water, Maeve slowly caressed her body. She ran her hands over her smooth skin, adopting simple, yet extremely seductive poses. And this very quickly made John realize that he had been waited for, and making a lady wait for him was not his style.

His full suit was immediately tossed onto the floor, leaving the hero's body completely naked. The unlocked door opened completely silently, and his footsteps were quieter than the rustle of grass. But this did not help him go unnoticed by Maeve, who heard the sound of the opening door despite the running water. Therefore, John did not hide any further, calmly walking up to her from behind.

— Have you been waiting? — He exhaled into her ear, pressing his swollen cock against her hips.

— I was beginning to think you chickened out. — The heroine smiled, leaning back.

One hand landed on her lush size three breast, squeezing it firmly and tightly. The other smoothly lowered to her pussy, tracing a line from her flat smooth stomach to her groin. With his fingers, John pinched the girl's clitoris, feeling her cherry begin to pulsate intensely because of his actions. A satisfied moan escaped the beauty's lips, as she arched her back with pleasure. She always liked it when he did that.

Leaning down to the girl's neck, he gently kissed it, only to immediately receive a slap on the face. Frowning, she pushed him towards the glass, which cracked from the impact. While John looked at her in surprise, Maeve did not waste time and grabbed his balls. Unfortunately for him... literally.

— Oh, maybe take it easy? — John asked her, not daring to make unnecessary movements under the determined gaze of her grey eyes.

— Maybe you should be rougher? I'm not a crystal vase, I won't break! — Maeve growled, finally letting go of his balls.

Only a moment passed and she was pinned against the tiled wall by John's body. The heroine's hands were above her, also held by him. His dick abruptly entered her tight pussy, which seemed to be intent on milking all the fluid from the visitor. Maeve gave an indistinct growl at this and clamped him to her with her legs, clinging to his hips.

— Mmmh!~

For a couple of seconds, they looked into each other's eyes, as if continuing this peculiar standoff. Until John got tired of it and started moving. Measured, yet hard thrusts quickly gained a quite intense pace, eventually starting to break the tiled wall. But they didn't pay attention to it, fully giving themselves over to an aggressive and depraved kiss, the force of which would have long since taken an ordinary person's lips.

— Aaahhh!~ Mmm!~

Moans mixed with shouts during the struggle for dominance over each other, and positions changed almost every couple of minutes. And then, they moved to the bed, where they continued their sex marathon. Maeve actively bounced on his dick, gaining the upper hand over her partner and riding him in the cowgirl position. John, meanwhile, grabbed her voluminous breasts and attacked her pink nipples, biting and simultaneously sucking them, thereby causing sweet moans. He was quite satisfied with the current position.

— Ohh. — John exhaled, feeling the approaching orgasm.

As if feeling the same thing, Maeve became even more frantic and soon he finally released inside. The red-haired beauty closed her eyes and bit her lips, feeling the hot stream of semen inside her. He, meanwhile, leaned back, enjoying the aftertaste. Maeve lay down next to him, also staring at the ceiling.

— Why? Lately, you didn't even want to talk to me. And now, this. — John waved his hand, breaking the silence.

— Maybe it's because you're... not Homelander, — Maeve replied and he froze, feeling goosebumps run down his spine. — Your gaze has changed, it's not as arrogant, but it has gained confidence. As if you've become... whole. Is it because of Ryan?

— It seems I really have changed a lot. — The blonde smiled, feeling a huge relief that he hadn't been exposed after all.

— Yes, and I want the same. — Maeve said firmly, sitting up and slightly leaning over him.

— What?

— My own Ryan. — The red-haired vixen smiled, seeing the surprise on his face.

She slowly lowered herself and began to lick his still-softening cock. Looking at this mesmerizing sight, John had no idea how he could give her a son, but he wasn't going to refuse this kind of sex. So he threw his head back and silently enjoyed the process.

***

Thoughtfully looking at the large plasma screen, I pressed the gamepad buttons with the diligence of a person doomed to defeat. And on the screen, A-Train was beating Homelander in the arena, zooming around at his super-speed. What can I say? The conventions of fighting games, where realism is disregarded for the sake of equal chances of winning for every character. So even Deep could easily beat up Queen Maeve, although in reality, he would be lying on the ground with mincemeat instead of a face after a minute.

And here, A-Train, who objectively is not able to move me even at full speed, can spin Homelander in place. This was certainly annoying, but tolerable. Finally, the speedster finished his special move and I managed to shoot him with a laser beam before being knocked down again by this dark blue locomotive. In the end, during my final loss, I could witness A-Train running around the earth in a circle to end the opponent's suffering with one blow.

— Annoying and extremely unfair. — All that was left was to comment phlegmatically, looking at the black speedster's victory dance.

— Well, you brought this console yourself. — Rebecca chuckled, who was sitting next to me.

— Excuse me, — Ryan smiled modestly. — You just don't know how to use Homelander's advantages. Maybe choose an easier hero?

— I don't know how to use Homelander's advantages? Well, I'm still learning, — I smiled at him, adjusting my glasses. — After all, why do we fall, Ryan? To learn to pick ourselves up.

— Okay. — The child replied in bewilderment.

— You'll understand what I mean later, — I replied to him, and ruffling his hair, got up from the couch. — We'll play again when I get back.

— Are you leaving already? — Ryan asked sadly.

— I can't stay today, important event, — I smiled openly, hugging the boy goodbye. — But tomorrow we'll spend the whole day together. You, me, and Mom.

— Okay, Dad. — Ryan smiled, after which he carelessly went to play games.

Of course, many might think that this way I could raise him to be spoiled. But it should be understood that there is nothing within the next few tens of kilometers. No children, no playgrounds. And the entertainment in recent years consists of melodramas and fairy tales watched until they're worn out, too childish.

Rebecca would naturally be against such sharp changes, so they were very gradual. First, movies, primarily Star Wars. Then more suitable books for his age, the choice here was obvious — Harry Potter.

But after that, I had to argue with the worried mother about leaving the new toy at home. Given that the argument was taking place in front of Ryan, Rebecca couldn't resist two pleading blue eyes for long. Of course, there were no mentally scarring games there, which I also had to convince the woman of. The last thing we needed was for the child to shoot lasers from his eyes out of fear.

— You've become really close, — Rebecca smiled, accompanying me to the door. — He only talks about you. Should I start getting jealous?

— I can't replace you, you know that.

— The news is only talking about you, — she mentioned casually.

— Really? I rarely watch the news.

— I wanted to thank you, — Rebecca sighed, looking seriously into my eyes. — You saved them and thanks to you they will return home to their families.

— Don't thank me for them. You don't even know them.

— My relatives could have been there, John, — Rebecca sighed. — I haven't been in contact with them for a long time, but I'm still worried about my sister, mother, and father.

— And about William?

— About him the most.

— See you tomorrow, Rebecca. — I nodded to her, heading towards the garage. Where else was I supposed to store my clothes?

— Becca.

— What? — I stopped, looking at her with a question.

— Friends call me Becca. And... you can call me that too. — Rebecca replied, before shamefully retreating back into the house under my surprised gaze.

— I see, Becca. — A smirk appeared on my lips, with which I watched the woman panicking over her own actions. It was funny and extremely sweet.

Then I changed into my suit and flew into the sky, but not to the Vought Tower, but to a gathering of cultists who consider themselves believers. I, like Homelander before me, saw in them only fear of the unknown, not faith. Just fanatics who are ready to believe in anything if they are guaranteed eternal life, after death, of course. And I didn't like fanatics.

It was not the first time Homelander had to participate in this event, where he was literally considered the second Jesus. Unfortunately, I would also have to take part in this, now that I was in his body. For this, I had to thank Ezekiel the Elastic, who organizes this every year, and Vought, for the sponsorship.

He was a holy-in-every-sense supe who claims that faith can heal everything, even gays from their proclivities. Only he should first take something elongated out of his anus and his mouth before saying such nonsense. Because faith in his case lost this hopeless battle with a bang.

The crowd of fanatics looked up and immediately began screaming my name. The American flag as a cape severely compromises one's disguise, especially at a low altitude. Snorting, I landed at the entrance to one of the tents, which was intended just for me. I had no desire to interact with crowds of fans, as Homelander would do right now.

— Homelander! Phew, here's your script. — Ashley ran inside, handing me the sheets with the speech.

— What hypocritical crap. — I muttered, reading everything in a couple of seconds.

— Do you like it? — The girl asked, not having heard my words.

— That's an understatement, Ashley. That's an understatement. — I sighed at the end, waving my hand, as if shooing away an annoying fly.

The girl understood me correctly and quickly left the tent, leaving me alone with myself. Snorting, after some time I also went out "for a walk." Or rather, to look for a certain beauty who was also participating in this event, and I found her quite easily and quickly in one of the tents.

But she wasn't alone. Teenagers had gathered in a circle nearby, along with a priest and Starlight herself. Ashley stood to the side, buried in her phone next to some woman. This is without counting the crowd that came to watch this from outside. It was clear that everyone had gathered to listen to the priest's sermon and talk to the famous heroine.

— I know what you're thinking. Starlight from The Seven! Here, with us! I remember her with pigtails and braces, she sat where you are now. Don't be shy, ask whatever you want, — the priest smiled and pointed to the girl who raised her hand. — Yes?

— I have a friend on my team named Sanji. She's Hindu. I understand it's my duty to convince her to accept Jesus. But it feels strange to me somehow.

— Remember, Jesus said: Love your neighbor. — Starlight replied, thinking for a second.

— And when you love, you want to protect! After all, you want your friend to find eternal life, don't you? — The priest rephrased her words, which the blonde couldn't argue with, although she was indignant and even embarrassed.

— Did you have a boyfriend? — The questions continued.

— Yes, I dated one boy.

— And... did you have sex before marriage?

— That's a rather... personal question, — Starlight said uncertainly, meeting the priest's scrutinizing gaze. — No, I'm a virgin and I'm saving myself for my husband.

All of this ended about thirty minutes later and she came out of there in a rather dejected state, so much so that she didn't even notice my appearance next to her.

— You know, lying is a sin. — I smiled, drawing the thoughtful girl's attention to myself.

— What the?! — Starlight almost shrieked, jumping back two meters. — You scared me!

— Really? — I smirked, calmly walking up to the girl. — My apologies.

— You didn't sound sincere enough. — Annie frowned, feeling hurt.

— We're both guilty of that. — I said with a smile, which earned me a puzzled look. Rolling my eyes, I still explained: — So you're a virgin and I should forget about sex before marriage?

— What? No! — The girl was outraged.

— Which question did you just answer? About virginity or sex? — I smirked, teasing her.

— Both questions, — she looked firmly into my eyes, having previously looked over my figure. And that look literally sent shivers down my spine.

— I hope you remain just as sincere, — I smiled at her, even putting an arm around her seemingly fragile shoulders. Which she didn't resist, despite the people who were watching us with interest. — I like you more this way than as a twenty-three-year-old virgin.

— Hey! — She hit my side with her little fist.

— That hurts, — I flinched away from her, pretending to be offended. — Do you know that a punch like that can bend steel?

— Don't exaggerate. And you deserved it, — Starlight retorted and sighed quietly, falling silent for a while. — Do you think I should be a role model? Well, with this...

— First and foremost, you must remain human, — this time I had to look at her extremely seriously. — It's very easy to become arrogant, considering yourself chosen, even God.

— God? — Annie asked in surprise, the very thought of it seemingly not registering in her head.

— God. When you are above others... it's a nasty feeling that's extremely easy to get bogged down in. To stop distinguishing reality from the fabricated image, — I said, looking directly into her eyes. — That's why your sincerity is a breath of fresh air for me. That's your thing... and the reason you will change the world.

— That sounds a little too dramatic, — Annie smiled, but then looked at me seriously. — I'll remember that. Thank you.

— Hi, Starlight. Can I take a picture? With you and... Homelander. — A man asked, summoning up his courage.

— Of course, Uncle Sam. If you don't mind. — Starlight looked at me.

— No, I don't mind at all. — I smiled back, letting the guy take a couple of shots.

But it didn't stop there, escalating into a full-fledged fan gathering. We only got free ten minutes later, when Starlight asked everyone to disperse. What was surprising was that she knew many of the people by sight.

— Wow, it seems you know everyone here.

— Well, my mom and I drove all over the country to all the Christian events. Wore the tires threadbare. These people are like family to me, and I'm happy to see them again. Although a lot seems to have changed significantly during this time.

— Hmm, I understand.

— Starlight, we need to get ready for your entrance. Shall we go? — Ashley ran up to us.

— Will we meet up later?

— Of course, I'll be there too. — I nodded, watching them leave.

I decided to look for something interesting at this fair and very soon stumbled upon someone I absolutely did not expect to see here. Especially after yesterday.

— I just don't understand you, son. — The old man said in bewilderment.

— Listen, if there's some guy with a beard floating in the clouds, he's a son of a bitch, the likes of which you'd have to search for. — My old acquaintance replied calmly and extremely confidently, while throwing popcorn into his mouth.

— Did you just call God a swear word?

— Yeah, he gets off on mass murder and kids with cancer. And he solves the problem of total fucked-up-ness called "Humanity" with a son pinned to a board. He's the ultimate scumbag, even you have to agree here.

— Alright, that's enough. — The black muscular man tried to stop him.

— We should hit him with a nuclear bomb and be done with it. That's all. — The man continued, under the old man's shocked gaze.

— William Butcher, what a surprise. — I smiled openly, walking up to them.

And if the old man was filled with a fan's joy at meeting me, the black guy in glasses next to William was clearly uncomfortable. William himself was predictably extremely angry.

— Well, that is a surprise indeed. — Butcher gloomily agreed with me.

— And where is your friend? The one who's skinny and tall.

The black guy immediately tensed up, reaching for the gun in his pants. Unfortunately, this was not a figurative expression, but reality.

— He's living with me. Or didn't you notice when you were scoping out my house last night? Did you like my look without underpants? — The bearded Brit smirked.

And it was clear from the second man's face that the details of last night had not been shared with him. But surprise didn't stop him from reaching for the gun.

— Who the hell carries a gun in their pants? What kind of idiocy is that, huh? Maybe you should put it in your underwear too? — I frowned, looking at the equally bearded black guy. — We're at a damn peaceful cultist gathering, not in the ghetto. Cool it.

— Yeah, M.M. Cool it, — Butcher ordered, and M.M. reluctantly obeyed him. — Why did you come over, cape guy?

— Just a piece of advice, nothing more, — I looked into his eyes with a heavy gaze. — Don't make a scene here. Give me one reason and you'll go to jail.

— And why not to the next life right away? — Butcher smirked.

— Because today I am Homelander, — I smirked back, patting him on the shoulder, which made him wince. — Have fun. And tell Hughie that no one is looking for him and it's unlikely they will. Consider it a thank you.

Leaving the last word to myself, I walked away, heading backstage, where Ezekiel had just begun his performance. It would be my turn soon.

Chapter Text

The short conversation left a very strong impression on both troublemakers, who watched Homelander leave with suspicious, attentive gazes. M.M., the large black man with a beard, looked at his former boss, who had decided to reassemble their team for a big job. And now he began to realize how reckless it was to get involved in this shit, once again. This time everything was much more serious than it had been with Lamplighter. It was too dangerous, first and foremost for his family.

— What do you say? — M.M. growled, frowning. Butcher knew they had already been exposed, but hadn't breathed a word about it.

— I say I want a drink, — Billy calmly replied, heading towards the parking lot.

Looking at the figure walking away from him in bewilderment, M.M. followed him. Hughie, who was just returning from his improvised walk around the fair, stared at them in surprise. M.M. just waved his hand, inviting him to follow, which the boy obediently did. He didn't ask any questions, immediately sensing the oppressive atmosphere around the two of them. Soon they reached the parking lot and suddenly witnessed Butcher's aggression, which was directed at the tire of the van they had arrived in.

— You bitch! You motherfucking bastard! AAAAAH!!! — Billy went wild, living up to his last name or nickname, continuously kicking the van's tire. And it was scary, so much so that Hughie preferred to hide from the "Butcher's" possible gaze behind M.M.'s wide back.

— What happened? — Hughie asked anxiously to the only one of the two who still remained calm.

— Homelander happened, — M.M. replied briefly, but enough to convey the whole essence of the shit they had gotten into.

— What? — was the only thing Hughie could utter, in his hoarse voice.

— Phew... Fuck! — Butcher kicked the tire one more time, finally calming his nerves a bit and turning his attention to the witnesses of his breakdown. He smirked, looking at Hughie's frightened face. — What, Hughie? Did you piss your pants?

— Leave the kid alone, Butcher, — M.M. defended him, looking straight into the Brit's eyes. — What did you not tell us that we should know?

— Homelander flew up to my house, and then flew away. Just looked at me with his red eyes at the end, — Billy sighed, finally admitting it. — That's all. So relax your butts.

— Relax our butts? Relax our butts?! — Hughie snapped, shouting at Butcher.

— Yes, finally be a man! — Butcher shouted back. — Get a grip. Nothing is decided yet.

— Not decided? — M.M. frowned. — What are you planning?

— We'll continue what we started. You go to Ezekiel and show him this, — he showed a video on his phone in which the elastic pervert was making out with two sweet boys at once.

— That was in that club, — Hughie recognized the location in the video. — But Homelander...

— If he wanted to stop us, he would have. Even right now... but he didn't. Which means we have to take this chance.

— Butcher, tickets for a private reception with him cost fifteen thousand, — M.M. tried to reason with him.

— We'll take them from one of the lucky ones, — Billy smirked, to which M.M. only rolled his eyes. This was exactly what he expected from that psycho.

***

Getting ready to go on stage... it wasn't even funny. John was annoyed that he had to speak with the mouths of idiots who themselves barely understood what they were trying to achieve. More words in support of those who were pushing for supes to join the military. But he didn't like any of it at all. This whole situation reeked. So much so that he even thought that he should have deliberately messed up that plane mission. Then he wouldn't have to worry about all this. But he quickly dismissed these thoughts, realizing that he would go crazy from the weight of what he had done. He wasn't a monster... right?

— Getting ready? — Starlight entered the tent, pulling him out of his heavy contemplation.

— Not really, — John smiled, turning to her. — But I'm trying.

— At least you don't have to read from a teleprompter, — Annie snorted, unhappy with that fact.

— Well, I only see one way out of this situation, — John smirked, walking up to her almost closely.

— And what is that? — The girl asked with anticipation.

— Not to read, but to speak, — he solemnly announced, dramatically burning the papers in his hands with a glance. — Will you take the torch?

— Why not, — Starlight smirked, looking at him with burning eyes, and then kissed the hero in a burst of emotion, which he didn't mind at all.

After a while, the girl left the tent because of Ashley who was looking for her, leaving behind a pleasant aftertaste, literally. Snorting at his own thoughts, John shook his head and looked thoughtfully down at the ashes of the paper. But he was distracted by the ringtone of the smartphone in his suit pocket. He stared in surprise at the name of the person calling him before answering.

— What's wrong, Deep? — John asked right away, not wanting to waste time on greetings, given his imminent entrance.

— Homelander, hi, — Kevin replied uncertainly. — It's about "Ocean Land."

— And what about them? Do they want to cancel the contract with you? — John rolled his eyes, realizing that he would be talking about some trifle that annoyed him.

— No... I'm not talking about that. There are dolphins there and they are suffering from being kept there. I've told them many times about it, I even talked to Stillwell recently about it. But they won't listen to me! They don't understand that they are alive!

— Yeah, yeah, calm down, — John said, guessing from his voice that Kevin was very drunk and extremely out of control right now. Still, his fear of Homelander was so strong that he couldn't even say a word against him, let alone shout.

— I can't take it anymore! She's screaming, begging me to take her away from there! — Kevin screamed hysterically into the phone, not even trying to be quieter.

— I see, wait for me. Kevin, I'll be right there. Where are you? — John said in a calming tone, not at all thrilled that he would have to rush somewhere and calm down an idiot.

— Me? I'm in the van right now, in front of "Ocean Land," — Deep's bewildered voice sounded after a few tense seconds.

— I'll be there soon, don't do anything, — John hung up, looking at the stage with irritation.

Sighing, he still flew in the direction of the stage, where he landed to the enthusiastic shouts of the crowd. John smiled, waved to the audience, and approached Ezekiel, who was looking at him in surprise.

— Sorry to interrupt your performance, Ezekiel. But I'm in a big hurry. You don't mind, do you? — John asked, clapping the supe in all white on the shoulder.

Ezekiel's appearance was not unusual, a simple blonde with long hair and a neat goatee. Even his clothes only stood out for their white color and were not intended for superhero work at all. Which made sense, with such a reputation, where there was no place for physical violence, although it was better not to mention sexual violence.

— Of course, Homelander, brother, — Ezekiel smiled back, extending his arm towards backstage. After which he pulled his extended arm back, handing the microphone to him.

— Thank you, — Homelander nodded and turned to the audience, who were eagerly awaiting the words of America's main hero. — I will be brief. Vote for the bill for superheroes to join the military, because it's something that will bring you absolutely... nothing.

People exchanged bewildered glances, hearing his words. And Ashley's eyes almost popped out of their sockets, after which she frantically began dialing Stillwell's number. The rest were in no less shock, except for one quiet blonde who stood aside.

— Yes, don't be surprised. All this is not in your interest, not in the interest of the citizens of America! — Homelander raised his voice, looking over the gathered crowd, meeting the frowned Butcher's gaze. — This is needed by those who are more important than you, those who are above me. They want Homelander to clean up their mess, flying to the scene and dealing with the problem. For us to kill those they point to.

The murmur of dissatisfied people grew louder, showing their attitude towards this.

— They wanted me to tell you nonsense about how good your life will be thanks to this bill. But I don't want to lie to you and I'm tired of being used as a puppet in their backroom games! Because if I stay silent now... I won't be able to change anything. I hope you will make the right choice. That's all, — he tossed the microphone to Ezekiel, and then sharply flew into the sky.

John smirked, imagining the excitement his words caused on social media. As much as he was interested in seeing the public's reaction, now was not the time to be on the phone. He would have to talk to Deep and possibly solve his problem with... the dolphins. John arrived just in time, when the renowned sea hero got out of the van. Only as it turned out a few seconds later... not for decisive action to save the marine life.

— Are you okay? — John asked for politeness, approaching the guy who was still vomiting.

— Ahem... Completely, — Kevin straightened up abruptly, looking at his figure with fear.

— Some mineral water?

— I wouldn't refuse, sir, — Deep nodded, who had expected a more aggressive conversation.

— Well, let's go then, — John smirked, heading to the nearest store.

Just a couple of minutes later, they were sitting on the roof, looking at the "Ocean Land" building. An aquarium that Deep had been promoting for several years and which did not treat the dolphins and other marine life in the most humane way. And after listening to the story about this place, John asked the only question:

— So, you literally decided to steal a dolphin and release it into the sea?

— She's not well here, — Kevin weakly justified himself.

— I see. I know I'll regret this... — John sighed, under the hopeful gaze of the desperate guy. — ...but I'll help you.

— Steal a dolphin?

— Of course not, — John chuckled, looking at the building. — We will act in a more legal manner.

***

Hughie was breathing, relaxed and unhurriedly, remembering how he managed to make Ezekiel reveal where they were taking the Compound V. And now he could peacefully enjoy a burger with fries, waiting for the results from Butcher and M.M. But the calm was short-lived, because just as he took the first bite, Homelander appeared in front of him as if by magic. Scaring him badly, causing him to almost fall off his chair.

— Hello, Hughie, — the blonde greeted him, brazenly taking a fry and putting it in his mouth.

— Hey! That's rude, — the boy's indignation was limitless.

— I know, that's probably why it was so tasty, — Homelander smirked. — And where are the others?

— I don't know, — Hughie pursed his lips.

— Hughie, I understand that you consider me a monster and you would even be right. But you know me, and you have since childhood. Why do you even think I'm a villain? — the hero smiled, taking another fry. — Remind me who kidnapped Translucent, a single father and a superhero, with minor flaws, and blew him up.

— He has a kid? — Hughie asked in shock.

— Yes, a son. He's a teenager, — Homelander sighed. — You can't imagine how hard it was for me to comfort a child who suddenly lost the only close person he had.

— I didn't know...

— Few people knew, given that he always kept his personal life a secret, — Homelander nodded. — But let's go back to where we started.

— I... I don't know, — Hughie pursed his lips, making the blonde frown.

— It has to be related to Compound V, — Homelander guessed, confirming his suspicion by the guy's changed pulse. A smirk crept onto his face, and another fry ended up in his hand. — And the most popular of the heroes who can be pressured here... Ezekiel!

— That...

— Which means if you succeeded, they are already at the nearest hospital, — Homelander smiled, seeing the terror on the guy's face.

— Wait! — was all Hughie managed to shout, before the blonde disappeared from sight. He frantically pulled out his phone, only remembering a second later that it didn't work due to water getting inside. In a panic, he ran to find someone who could lend him their phone to make a call. And he had to hurry, very much.

Chapter Text

Breaking into the hospital was not particularly difficult, considering all the experience Butcher had under his belt. Breaking in and secretly infiltrating much more heavily guarded places was experience that could not be forgotten in just a couple of years. The same was true for M.M. But finding a place where unauthorized people were not allowed was even easier. Steal a pass from a nurse and enter the room closed to outsiders, that's all. The main thing was not to give away that they didn't belong there, in order to buy time. And then leave as soon as possible before security arrived.

— Just like the good old days, huh? — Billy smirked.

— You better shut up, I feel... sick already, — M.M. did not share his comrade's opinion, feeling out of place due to bad premonitions. It was always like this with Butcher, someone always suffered, and this time someone might suffer too.

— Alright, stop whining. We'll take what we came for and bail, — Billy frowned, looking around.

Right there, his eyes fell on a child, inside a transparent incubator for newborns, connected to an IV drip with Compound V. In the room, this was the only infant, although, considering the presence of five other identical, but empty incubators, he wasn't the first one to go through something like this. Looking at the blue liquid in the bag, Butcher estimated the amount of the compound with shock. After all, even Popclaw lost her mind from small doses of this crap, and who could withstand such a dose...

— They're putting this crap into their veins... fuck, — Butcher succinctly described the situation, seeing where the tube went.

At the same second, the infant opened its eyes, firing blue lasers upwards, which made the two men jump aside, watching the scene in shock. Fortunately, the incubator seemed to be made of much stronger material than usual, and withstood a direct laser blast from the eyes.

— God created them, my ass. These brats are being mass-produced in a lab, — Butcher spat, looking at the infant with disgust.

— Butcher, let's take what we need and bail, — M.M. distracted him from staring at the infant, so that this almost-madman wouldn't try to strangle the child, as if it were a young Hitler.

— Fine, hold on, — Butcher looked around, finding syringes and a container for blood analysis with his gaze. — That will do.

The task took less than a minute, as they didn't need much, just less than half of the container they were collecting the Compound in. This would easily prove Vought's involvement in the creation of superhumans and illegal experiments on altering human DNA.

— Alright, let's get out of here, — Butcher chuckled, glancing at the child.

— Hey!! — a shout came from behind them, which gave them a precious moment to find cover.

Automatic gunfire and the sound of breaking glass erupted behind them, as they barely managed to hide behind a column. Fortunately, the column was thick enough not to let their bodies be riddled with bullets.

— Distract them, — Butcher ordered, having come up with something. M.M. nodded intently and, pulling out his gun, began firing at the guards. At that moment, Billy was able to reach the cable and rip it out of the socket.

— Watch and learn, — he told his bewildered partner, showing him the plug, and then pulled on it.

The incubator with the infant inside shortened the distance between them, while the guards were momentarily confused. Finally, the incubator was behind the column and Butcher was able to take the infant out, holding it facing forward so as not to turn himself into a shish kebab. He reserved that fate for the guards and, with a brazen smirk, stepped out into the light, having prepared a surprise for them.

— And what now, William? Are you going to "make him burp on me?" — Homelander asked with a smile on his lips, standing surrounded by knocked-out guards.

— He has a much more suitable trick for you up his sleeve, — Butcher smiled quite insanely, before shaking the infant. Blue beams directly from the eyes immediately reached the superhero's chest, powerlessly trying to burn right through his figure. But to Billy's displeasure, the blonde only watched with interest.

— The little one has decent potential. A great replacement is growing up... if she's not subjected to bad influence, — Homelander smiled kindly, stroking the infant's cheek, which looked at the man in front of her with amazement. He chuckled, glancing at the muzzle of the pistol that M.M. had pointed at him. — Maybe you'll put the child back now?

Butcher's eyes narrowed, he stared directly into the blonde's eyes for a long minute without blinking. The latter continued to smile, showing no annoyance about the long wait. Finally, Billy nodded, and carried the little one back himself.

— What next? — M.M. squeezed his hand on the gun, pursing his lips. It was clear that the forces were absolutely unequal and a firearm was not helpful here.

— I need to change my suit, — Homelander sighed, looking at his burned suit.

— Oh, we are so sorry, — Butcher replied with obvious sarcasm, looking into the supe's eyes.

— You know, yesterday I thought you were scared. That you were terrified of my appearance and that's why your heart was ready to burst out of your chest. But now... now I see that it's not fear. No, it's rage and the desire to tear me to shreds. How... unusual, — the blonde smiled, and his eyes lit up with a red glow.

— Well, come on, you little shit, — Billy smiled maliciously.

— Butcher? — M.M. said worriedly and somewhat uncertainly, not eager to be sliced by Homelander's laser. And the laser light only intensified, promising a quick, but extremely painful death. Resigned to his fate, M.M. silently closed his eyes, already feeling the heat on his skin. This was not how he imagined his death.

***

Returning to the festival, I noticed a figure that was distant from everyone. And my vision easily allowed me to determine that the girl was not feeling her best. It seemed that sincerity was difficult for the young girl, who was still dependent on public opinion. I smoothly landed behind her, making sure she heard it. Starlight froze, like a rabbit hearing a predator, and I smiled and hugged her from behind, pulling her close. Which the girl didn't mind at all.

— Bad performance? — I asked, gently stroking the girl's shoulders, which made her relax slightly.

— I just... really disappointed my mom, — Annie breathed out, overwhelmed with emotion. — Her friends were there, acquaintances... and I said in front of everyone that I didn't believe in all this... nonsense, — she turned sharply, looking into my eyes. — Am I a terrible daughter? She won't die of a heart attack, will she, from shame because of me?

— I really hope not, — I smiled at her absurd joke. If it made her feel better, then why not. — How are you feeling?

— Surprisingly good, even great, — the girl smiled. — Thank you for the support.

— How could I not? I couldn't leave such a beautiful woman in trouble.

— Don't flatter yourself, you weren't there, — she punched my chest with her little fist.

— But I'm here now, Annie, — I smirked, pulling her closer by the waist and looking into her eyes shimmering with restrained tears.

The girl abruptly leaned in and kissed me herself, not waiting for any moves from me in that direction. I, meanwhile, indulged in the moment, moving my hands from her waist to her firm butt, squeezing the lower hemispheres in my palms. But things didn't go any further, unfortunately the timing wasn't the best. I must admit that I am an amateur in amorous matters, relying more on natural talent and a little experience from my past life. Relying on Homelander's memory for this was not advisable, considering that he learned everything from movies and TV shows on the topic, and that is not the best source.

In the end, Starlight flew with me through the night sky for the first time. It could even be called a romantic moment, but considering the dog-like cold in the sky, there was nothing of the sort about it. By the end of the flight, the blonde could barely speak because of the chattering of her teeth. She was much more susceptible to low temperatures than Maeve, with whom Homelander constantly flew.

The girl accepted my apologies for the inconvenience during the flight, hugged me tightly (I suspect, to warm up) and went home, to her rented apartment. I, meanwhile, stayed outside, and after a while headed to the Vought Tower. But I didn't go inside immediately, standing at the entrance, where my gaze involuntarily caught on the statue of Soldier Boy.

He was pointing in the opposite direction from the tower, holding a Thompson submachine gun. He was dressed literally like a soldier, only with a mask on his face that didn't hide his face at all. He died in '82 and was considered the strongest supe until Homelander appeared. It was funny that at that time he was already seventy, but there were no changes in his appearance since his first appearance on the country's TV screens.

He supposedly died saving the world from a nuclear disaster. But in this case, the date of his death, or rather the year, greatly confused me. In that same year, America's Sweetheart, the Strongest and Greatest Superhero and an absolute fake in reality — Homelander — was born. It's unclear what exactly Soldier Boy did to offend Vought, but since they were able to get rid of even him... one should just be careful.

Snorting, I sharply flew up, immediately heading out of the city. I landed almost in the forest, right in front of a country house that I had recently bought. I wouldn't say that this place was completely secluded from civilization, but the noise of the never-sleeping city couldn't be heard here, even for Homelander's ears. The ideal place to practice Ryan's abilities, before actually moving to the quiet town where a house had already been purchased.

After all, I should make sure that the boy wouldn't harm anyone by controlling himself. I wouldn't want everything to develop according to the script of a movie I watched in my past life. Something about a boy with Superman's powers going crazy and starting to violently kill all those who offended him, from casual acquaintances to his parents. I didn't need that, I wouldn't want to snap my... son's neck.

Snorting unhappily at the unpleasant reflections, I entered the house and headed to the bedroom, where I fell asleep, taking off my uncomfortable suit. I should get a good night's sleep, because tomorrow I have a lot on my plate, and largely thanks to my own actions. Big changes are coming, and this is just the beginning.

Chapter Text

The morning was not the most pleasant for Madelyn Stillwell, considering what had happened the previous day. Her heels clicked steadily on the smooth floor as she nervously pursed her lips, thinking about how the incident would affect the company and her position within it. First, Homelander's self-governance, which escalated into an simply incredible online uproar. And of course Starlight, the girl who was only supposed to read the teleprompter text and quietly leave the stage, suddenly started her monologue about religion.

— Who even cares about that? The little bitch, — Stillwell thought, trying to put her emotions in order, which had become increasingly difficult lately. Too much had piled up on her in this short time.

— And you certainly weren't in a hurry. — Was the first thing Homelander said when the iron doors opened for her.

And once again the same scene. Once again she was summoned, as if they were running her, and not the other way around. It was incredibly annoying, no matter how hard she tried to detach from it. Everyone was gathered and looked at her with anticipation, as if waiting for a show to begin. Even Black Noir, who was always on the company's side, this time clearly chose the side of that blond bastard.

— Why did you call me? — Stillwell almost winced, barely restraining herself from screaming.

— Oh, mere trifles. I would like you to approve Deep's idea. — He pointed to the guy who was sitting silently and trying not to draw attention.

— And what idea is that? — Madelyn sighed, deciding to listen to what it was about. And she couldn't refuse, the bastard clearly hinted at what would happen to her child if she did.

— The dolphins at "Ocean Land," they are being taken care of very poorly. — Deep stammered uncertainly under her piercing gaze, and then fell silent.

— They are underfed and living badly, and this needs to be highlighted in the press. — Homelander continued for him, taking over.

— I don't think that makes sense. "Ocean Land" are important advertisers and we receive significant profit from them that comes from Deep's brand. And to abandon them because of brainless fish...

— Madelyn, you know that they are much smarter, — Homelander interrupted her, raising his hand. — And I support Deep in his endeavor, because it is a good cause. And it will help the corporation's reputation rise.

— And can you remind me who is to blame for this? — Madelyn retorted with distaste in her voice, looking intently at him.

— Are you mad at me? — Homelander asked, surprised.

— You can't even imagine how much. — Stillwell almost growled, incinerating the blonde with a single look.

— Well, I offer my sincere apologies, — he replied to her in an absolutely indifferent tone, paying no attention to it. — Now let's return to the topic of the aquarium.

— This is not going to happen. You will apologize to everyone and say that you misspoke. And the aquarium topic is closed, we are not going against them! — For the first time in years of working at Vought corporation, Madelyn showed weakness and yelled at someone. And this caused surprise even in Homelander, let alone the others present.

— I won't apologize and the aquarium topic is not closed, — Homelander replied with the same indifference, while everyone present shrank in their chairs, except for Noir and Maeve.

— I understand that you don't want to back down from your words, but the aquarium... Why the hell do you care about it? This spineless idiot can't even stand up for himself, let alone these smelly fish.

— I... — Deep raised his hand, like a diligent student.

— Zip it! — The guy's hand immediately dropped under the table, and the woman looked at the blonde again. — You don't dare talk to me like that. I created you, I invented Homelander and brought him to life! It is only thanks to me that you became a symbol of America!

— Really? Well, then make Blue Hawk the symbol of America. After all, that's your merit. Why not repeat it? — Homelander snorted, looking at the woman condescendingly. — What? Silent?

Silence was his answer. Snorting, he walked with measured steps towards the woman, standing opposite her, literally looming over her.

— Let's be honest, the creation of my image was based primarily on Soldier Boy, as a prototype. The eagles on the shoulders, the blue color of the suit... and the cape, which I specifically suggested styling after the American flag. Don't flatter yourself, Madelyn, — the blonde smiled at her. — You were just my curator, once upon a time. It was I who promoted you up the career ladder, not your skills. And with the same ease, you will leave your position if I need you to. So... don't test my patience.

— If I do what you ask... it will shake the trust in me. I might be fired. — Stillwell forced a smile, finally getting a grip on herself.

— You won't be fired. Just do what needs to be done. You know everything yourself, I don't have to teach you.

— And the scandal with Starlight and... you? — Madelyn looked at him expectantly.

— Present it in a good light, as a sign of our... humanity and detachment from the corporation... independence. As our civic stance, — Homelander waved his hand, having lost all interest in the conversation. — And now, you may go.

Madelyn clenched her teeth so as not to say anything superfluous and silently left. Now she would have to clean up the pile of shit they had created. However, it wasn't the first time.

The remaining meeting ended extremely quickly, considering that there were no more topics left to discuss. Although there was one topic that should be discussed, but without extraneous ears. And in the end, only the ladies left the room, and the men, in the form of Black Noir, Deep, and A-Train, remained. The black speedster fidgeted in his chair throughout the meeting, unable to sit still. And even now he was sweating, trying not to look into my eyes.

— Black Noir. Deep. — I called out to the heroes, who stood behind A-Train without a word.

— What's going on, guys? — The black guy asked, getting increasingly nervous. — Is this about the recent raid, Homelander? I'll find that Asian girl, I promise!

— No need to be so nervous, Reggie. I already know where she is, and your participation in this is not required, — I smiled softly at him, once again x-raying his body with my vision. — On the other hand... have you been taking Compound V?

— I... ha... just a little bit. It won't happen again!

— Shortness of breath from the fastest speedster in the world... not a good sign. — I shook my head, under the panicking gaze of the mentioned speedster. After which Noir and Deep's hands fell onto his shoulders, increasing the guy's nervousness.

— Guys, what are you doing? — A-Train asked, looking at his comrades in fear.

— You need treatment. — Deep looked at him with a sympathetic gaze, holding him firmly in a seated position.

Black Noir silently nodded, showing that he also shared the underwater hero's opinion.

— And what now? — Reggie pursed his lips, understanding that they would treat him forcibly.

— You will be placed in a cell on the lower floors and specialists will be hired who can help with your situation, — I decided to clarify the situation for him. — Popclaw and your brother will be able to visit you.

— No, I don't want them to see me... like this. — The speedster protested in response, looking at me with pleading eyes.

— If not for your own sake, then for theirs, you must stop taking all that crap. And this will be a perfect reminder of who you are trying for. Noir, be a dear.

A sharp blow with the fingers to the neck area from the silent hero and the speedster looked at him in bewilderment.

— It hurts, fu— He broke off mid-word, before slumping sideways, losing consciousness.

— Wow! I didn't know you could do that. — Deep exclaimed in surprise.

To which Noir just shrugged, smiling under his mask. Of course, the smile was extremely creepy, considering the battle scars all over the face of the black hero, with a very ironic nickname. Fortunately, this did not change the fact that Black Noir sincerely sympathized with A-Train and wanted to help. And this indicated that I had one less problem, because now I clearly saw whose side he was on.

— Well, you know where to take him. All that remains is to warn Popclaw and his brother about this. I will entrust this to you, Deep, — the guy nodded affirmatively, showing his readiness to carry out the task given. — Black Noir, you will have to make sure that our comrade does not escape, for his own good.

In response, Noir nodded, and he and Deep carried the speedster to the elevator to go down to the lower floors. I decided to go to my apartments, where a guest was already waiting for me. Maeve was sitting in an armchair, crossing one leg over the other, when I entered.

— You know, I've never seen Stillwell snap at anyone before. Not even at me, for that time with the broken arm that prevented me from participating in a joint photoshoot. — Maeve smiled, recalling one of the incidents she didn't regret at all.

— Did you come here for this? To reminisce? — I smiled at her, seeing what is usually hidden from men's eyes. Namely... arousal.

— Don't play dumb, — the red-headed hellion snorted, getting up from the chair and coming close to me. She looked intently into my eyes, and her hand grabbed the most precious thing, which made me let out a convulsive gasp. Her plump lips stretched into an anticipating smile. — You know yourself, I literally got wet from what I saw. And in gratitude, I will give you head so fucking good... so sweet that you will never forget it.

From her sexy, husky voice and the words she said, I was literally speechless. All I could do next was watch as this fury slowly knelt down, looking straight into my eyes. Not a bad continuation of the day, by the way.

The next day, I was standing at the psychotherapist's door, and it seemed the session was scheduled for exactly this time. In any case, I couldn't ignore such a big problem. I pushed the door open, confidently walking inside.

— Sorry I'm late, — I smiled my signature smile.

The man behind the desk looked at me with bewilderment, extremely surprised by my appearance. Which was understandable, because I hadn't made an appointment with him.

— Sir? — came from behind the couch, where Deep was sitting.

— Hello, Kevin, — I nodded to him, sitting down in the armchair, adjusting my cape so it wouldn't bother me. An extremely uncomfortable thing, by the way. A cape has far more drawbacks than the well-known Edna Mode described.

— Excuse me, Mister Homelander, but no outsiders should be present during therapy, — the psychotherapist smiled tensely.

— True, but I'm definitely not an outsider, especially in this case. Right, Kevin?

— Of course, sir, — Deep agreed submissively.

— If so, I would ask you to allow me to be present for at least one session. I can pay extra for the inconvenience.

— I'm afraid there are things that cannot be bought so simply.

— Will four hundred thousand bucks be enough? — I smiled, seeing his eyes widen from the mere amount mentioned. Sometimes it's convenient to be a multimillionaire. — Well?

— Alright, let's begin our session, Kevin. You can start with what you did.

— I...

— Wait, what kind of problem are you solving? — I sharply interrupted the guy, addressing the psychotherapist.

— Well, we are trying to restore Kevin's self-confidence. To make him understand that he is important as a hero and a member of The Seven, — the man explained.

— But that's not the problem. Or are you not completely honest with the person who wants to help you, Kevin? — I looked into the guy's eyes, not breaking my gaze. Which made him swallow and have difficulty looking back, constantly averting his gaze.

— You shouldn't pressure him, it might make him close up, — the psychotherapist said anxiously.

— As for me, I'm doing everything right. After all, you have no idea how deep the root of his psychological problems goes. And he won't reveal all his cards to you, because he denies them himself, — I frowned, looking at Deep, who seemed to shrink. — Kevin, show them.

— Sir, I...

— Show them, — I said much more firmly.

— Fine, — Kevin sighed and unzipped his chest, showing the surprised psychotherapist the gills he uses to breathe underwater.

— This is where his real psychological problems stem from, — I sighed then, getting up from the armchair and walking behind Kevin. — He's a great hero, no worse than the others and even more effective than some. But his insecurity about his completeness is severely hindering him. Communicating with fish as equals, even sexual attraction to them — that's his problem. Solve it before he is accused of zoophilia, which is very undesirable.

— Kevin, if you had told me... — the man muttered in amazement.

— I'm sorry...

— Well, I won't disturb you. Kevin, I really hope this helps you, — I put my hand on his shoulder. — The first step to solving a problem is admitting that you have one. Don't be ashamed to admit your problems, because I will definitely listen to you.

— Thank you, sir.

— And yes, they are much more attractive than you think. You shouldn't be embarrassed by them, — I pointed to his gills, with a smile. Their presence was the least of his fault.

— Thank you, Mister Homelander. Your assistance will greatly help in solving Kevin's problem, — the psychotherapist extended his hand.

— Everything for his own good, — I smiled, shaking his hand. — The payment will arrive soon. And now I must take my leave.

— Goodbye, Mister Homelander.

— You can just call me Homelander, — I replied and left the room.

After which I quietly sighed, before going on. At least I did everything I could in the current situation, and everything else depends on Kevin himself.

Chapter Text

John closed his eyes, sighing softly. His fingers gripped the steering wheel of the van he was driving calmly down the road. An extremely long and incredibly boring road, inside a vehicle that shook and squeaked every second. That's not even mentioning the fact that every element of this tin box was like clay to him, under the hot sun. It was extremely unnerving, although he knew how to drive, and even had a license.

He had to monitor every one of his movements so as not to mess anything up. In the same amount of travel time, he could have flown there and back several times without any major problems. And unfortunately, physics worked perfectly in this world, which meant that picking up the car and flying with it to the right place was not possible if he wanted it to be drivable afterwards.

— Finally, — John breathed out, seeing a wall and a gate in front of him, through which not only the van but also much larger transport could easily pass.

His foot smoothly pressed the brake, careful not to damage anything. And the window rolled down when one of the guards approached the door.

— Do I need to show my license? — John smirked, taking off his sunglasses.

— No need, Mister Homelander, — the man replied, gesturing for the gates to be opened. — Go ahead.

— Thank you, — John nodded, driving inside.

The drive didn't last long, considering the area was limited. Just a couple of minutes and he was already near the house, from which Rebecca and Ryan were coming out with bags. The woman wasn't particularly happy about having to move so spontaneously, and the boy just looked at the van his father had arrived in with confusion.

— Why so soon? — Rebecca asked doubtfully.

— Because I've already bought the house, — John smiled, getting out of the car and helping carry the bags inside. — I couldn't tell you anything in advance. Although, I suspect that Edgar already knows where we're going.

— But what's the point then?

— In freedom from constant surveillance.

— Good argument, — Rebecca sighed.

— And where are we going? — Ryan asked, climbing into the back seat. Surprisingly, they didn't have many belongings, not even half-filling the trunk.

— We're going to my... our country house, — John corrected himself, at which Rebecca looked at him in surprise, which was hard not to notice. — What?

— Nothing, — the woman smiled.

— Alright then, — the man nodded. — Can you drive?

— My license is invalid, — Rebecca replied phlegmatically, sitting down in the front seat.

— Okay, — John sighed, settling into the driver's seat.

— What? You don't like driving? — Rebecca asked, finding it amusing.

— Let's be honest, it's an extremely inconvenient way for me to get around, — John sighed again, driving towards the exit of this prison.

Rebecca tensed, expecting them not to be allowed to leave. But her expectations were not met, and they were let out, the gates politely opening in front of them. The next two hours passed in silence, until Rebecca decided to break it, making sure her son was asleep.

— And where are we going?

— A country house near New York. A great place to relax where gawkers won't bother us.

— You're going to train him, — she wasn't asking, but stating.

— You're extremely perceptive, — John nodded, not at all surprised at how easily his intentions were uncovered.

— And when? — Rebecca asked, resigned to it.

— In a couple of days, when he gets a little used to the environment.

— Is there no other way out?

— If there was, I would have taken it. He must learn to control himself so as not to accidentally harm you. That would hit him hard. Believe me, I know what it's like, — John said in a gloomy tone, gripping the steering wheel so hard that a pathetic squeak was heard.

But the man's thoughts were no longer here, but in the extremely unpleasant details of the past. He remembered the smile of a pleasant-looking woman who decided to hug the blonde boy. And the child, who desperately desired closeness, so much so that he could not restrain his powers. If he had only been an observer in those memories... perhaps it would have been easier.

His tight embrace became lethal for the woman, breaking her in half like a doll. The little boy's despair poured out into hysterics and a laser beam from his eyes, with which he tried to burn everything around.

— John? — Rebecca called out worriedly, touching his shoulder.

— You can't stay this... vulnerable, — the man suddenly uttered, looking at her.

— What are you talking about? — the woman asked with alarm.

— You must become a superhuman.

— Is that possible? — Rebecca asked doubtfully.

— Don't. You are much smarter than you just tried to appear, — John sighed. — If something happens to you, Ryan won't forgive me for it... I won't forgive myself for it. Because I took responsibility for you, but this is... only your choice.

— Thank you, — the woman thanked him sincerely, contemplating the blonde's words for a few seconds. — I'll think about it.

The conversation was interrupted by Rebecca suddenly taking a disc out of her bag. And with an anticipating smile, she inserted it into the player. Well, John was ready to admit that the woman's voice was beautiful. But to listen to the Spice Girls for three hours, you had to have either nerves of steel or be a hardcore fan of that group. Unfortunately, John did not belong to the second category, unlike Rebecca.

He was genuinely surprised at how quickly she changed with the music of the two thousands. The girl actively writhed and constantly incited him to join her, which she did too easily. From time to time, John couldn't take his eyes off her, she was so lively, energetic, and extremely sexy. It seemed that having escaped from her forced captivity, Rebecca was finally able to feel relief. It was with this mood that she fell asleep, exhausted after two hours of activity. And John only lowered the music volume. He wouldn't admit it to anyone, but there was something catchy about those songs.

— We're here, — he sighed with relief, turning off the music. Finally, he could get out of this iron box.

— It's nice here, — Rebecca stretched to shake off her drowsiness.

— I know, it needs tidying up, — John replied somewhat categorically. — But inside, everything is much cleaner and neater.

— He's sleeping so sweetly, I don't even want to wake him, — she looked at Ryan with love, nodding at the man's words.

— Alright, I'll carry him into the house, — John nodded, gently lifting the child who was pretending to be asleep into his arms.

The house had three bedrooms, so he carried him into one of them. Rebecca settled in the adjacent room, where he also carried her belongings. John himself had already settled in the guest bedroom, at some distance from the two main ones. And now he was x-raying the house with his vision, looking for anything suspicious, like listening devices. And his gaze stopped on Rebecca, who was changing, revealing a figure that hadn't changed at all over the years. Although John admitted that it was an extremely disgusting act, he couldn't help himself.

***

Homelander looked at the camera without much enthusiasm, thinking only about how to finish all this as quickly as possible. A quiet sigh escaped him involuntarily as he surveyed the house where the filming was taking place. A snap of the clapperboard and the filming began, and a smile was already on his face.

— My grandpa built this house with his own hands, he was an amazing man, — the blonde began, gesturing towards the whole house. Then he walked over to the piano that stood behind him. — Oh, the old piano! In the evenings, Mom would sit down and play songs for us. To be honest, most of the time Dad and I were building model airplanes.

John looked with a nostalgic sigh at the table, where brand new model airplanes, bought yesterday, lay neatly. And as for paint... there was no scent of it here.

— I can almost smell... silver paint, — he walked past, picking up a framed photograph, looking at it sadly. — Too bad he didn't live to see the moment when I flew with the Blue Angels. He would have gone crazy.

— That's me in the center, — he pointed with a smile to the camera at a photograph of some models hired for this photo shoot. A beautiful family it was. — I love you, Mom and Dad.

— Stop! Cut! Moving to the next location, — the director announced. John finally removed that joyful smile from his face, watching people move the equipment into the next room. The make-up artists touched up the make-up on his face and the filming continued.

— And this is my bedroom! My hall of fame. Nothing has changed here, — he pointed to a shelf where some awards stood and took another framed photograph from there, showing it to the camera. — And this is my team. Of course, I couldn't play at full strength. But let's just say, we... often won, — he walked around the room, looking around. — This is all so exciting... to return to my childhood home.

— Great. Cut.

The subsequent filming took only an hour, during which he had to tell a saccharine story about his mother who dragged him into baseball. And of course, about the cake shaped like a baseball field that she baked herself. The marketing department had outdone themselves in cliché. By the end, he was simply itching to vomit at the sight of the cameras and the house itself. So it was no surprise that when it was all over, he immediately flew out of there straight into the sky.

Sighing softly, he closed his eyes, enjoying the flight. In a couple of minutes, he was already near the Vought Tower, where he entered, glancing at the film crew in front of it. Maeve waved her hand at him, to which he waved back, before entering. Her filming was taking place here, where she was supposed to give an interview, heavily showing her humanity.

Exiting the elevator, John headed to Stillwell's office, who had called him using one of her assistants. He entered without knocking, finding the woman busy with documents. She looked up at him and sighed, putting the papers aside.

— Do you know why I called you, John? — Madelyn finally asked.

— Let me guess. It's about A-Train? — John smiled, wrapping his cape around his arm so he could sit down in the armchair properly.

— What made you decide you could lock a person up in... this way? — Stillwell spoke, even somewhat uncertainly.

— He needed help, — he shrugged.

— Like Deep? John, he was given a psychotherapist specifically to help him gain confidence. You can't just interfere in that process.

— He fell in love with a dolphin.

— What? — Madelyn asked, stunned.

— While this psychotherapist was "trying" to help him, he already fell in love with a dolphin, Madelyn, — John sighed. — Intervention was necessary, at least because he was planning to kidnap it very recently. If I hadn't intervened.

— I didn't know about that, — the woman frowned.

— Because you've always ignored their personal problems, Stillwell. You're only interested in ratings and PR. I understand, that's your job. But sometimes you should look at them not as demigods, but as people.

— Including you?

— If necessary. Is that all?

— We'll have to release A-Train, — Stillwell replied, awaiting his reaction.

— No, you won't do that.

— It's illegal, John.

— It's right, Madelyn.

— He's too significant a figure to keep him in the shadows at a time like this.

— Trust me, it will benefit the company. Or do you want a super-invalid? Or maybe the fastest man in the world, dead from an overdose?

— Fine, fine, you win. That's all.

— Perfect.

John got up from the armchair and left the office, immediately heading into the elevator. A minute later, he was already on the lower floors of the building, where various experiments with Compound V were conducted. The cells for detaining various supes were also located here. Including The Seven, with the exception of only one member of that team — Homelander.

— How's the treatment progressing? — he asked, entering the room where A-Train was being held.

— So far so good, sir, — the psychotherapist, who was now working with A-Train every day, replied to him.

— Excellent, I'll pay him a visit, — John smiled.

— Popclaw is with him right now, — he was warned.

— I know, — he replied, before passing through security. — Well hello, Popclaw. Glad to finally meet you.

— Hello, Homelander, — the short-haired brunette, who had a retractable claw from her wrist, replied uncertainly.

— Reggie, how are you feeling?

— Couldn't be better, — the black speedster replied without any joy, sitting on the cot. — Everything is just great with me. I'm ready to leave here already.

— I know you're ready, but you still haven't fully recovered.

— Come on! Shockwave will take my place by then! — the addict sharply stood up, walking almost right up to the blonde. Which the latter couldn't help but take advantage of, pushing the supe in the chest, shoving him straight into the wall, which knocked all the air out of the black speedster.

— God! Reggie! — Popclaw cried out, rushing to the guy.

— If you can't even dodge such a slow push, then what is there to talk about? — Homelander frowned, looking down at him.

— I... just wasn't fast enough, — Reggie breathed out, sitting on the floor, not even attempting to get up.

— And that says a lot, — the blonde chuckled. — If you can't even cope with such a trivial addiction, then what does that say about your speed? The easy path is not always the right one. And in your case, it will destroy you. I won't keep an invalid in The Seven and will most likely replace you with Shockwave. Then... he will take your place.

Leaving his final word behind, he turned around and left the cell. A couple of minutes later, the leader of The Seven had already flown out of the tower, heading for a scheduled meeting.

Chapter Text

An inconspicuous motel, with fairly thick walls, where he was already being waited for in the room. He was a very ordinary-looking man, with a slight paunch and a beard he didn't take much care of. He was dressed in a simple shirt and jeans. One would not recognize the little-known hero that he was.

— Hello, it's a great honor for me. — The man immediately jumped up as the famous hero entered the room.

— Let's get down to business, Mesmer. — Homelander sighed, his entire demeanor showing that he was not thrilled to be in such company.

If one were to talk about the services Mesmer could offer, one could simply lose their appetite. Knowing this, John was even surprised at how many clients he had. And it seemed that there were enough mentally unstable people among the rich, since they didn't spare money for Mesmer's services.

— No one has called me that for a long time. You can just call me Seth. — The man corrected him shyly, looking at the superhero suit's fake musculature with admiration.

— Fine, Seth, — Homelander sighed, agreeing to call him by his first name. — Let's get down to business.

— Alright. Ahem... it's rare for supes to contact me, — he sat down on the edge of the bed, jumping slightly, apparently happy that his idol had addressed him by name. — We need to clarify right away how identical the clone should be to the original. I just need to understand what you need it for.

— I need a full-fledged clone, with all the nuances that come with it.

— That will take more than an hour and... it will be expensive. — Seth replied uncertainly, feeling awkward saying it.

— Do I look like the kind of person who would be stingy, Seth? What's the price?

— Three million, — Seth replied, pursing his lips. — Usually that price scares many people off. And the clone itself won't have a mind, only bare instincts.

— I'm fine with everything. The clone's organism needs to be absolutely identical to the original, that's all. I'm not asking for more.

— Alright, then let's begin, — Seth chewed his lip and sighed quietly, then reached into his bag, pulling out a plastic packet with pills. — I need ten minutes alone.

— I don't mind. — John shrugged, watching the man lock himself in the bathroom.

The blonde simply couldn't not observe Mesmer's manipulations, if only to make sure there was no trickery. The man immediately took two pills and grimaced, holding his stomach for a while. After that, the most interesting part began: he bent over the toilet and a stream of foamy substance, which had been digesting food until that moment, burst from his mouth. It seemed the pills helped get rid of excess organic matter in his stomach. The whole thing took no more than five minutes, during which he managed to tidy himself up.

— Now we can begin, — Seth breathed out heavily, coming out of the bathroom. — Did you bring blood, hair, or something else?

— Yes. — John replied and pulled out a plastic zipper bag, inside which everything was located. Obtaining the samples was not difficult, considering they were given to him completely voluntarily.

— Excellent. — Seth replied. He took the blood in his hands and after a momentary pause, drank it, and then swallowed the hair. His face grimaced, showing that he himself didn't enjoy it. But this was only the beginning, as the next few hours would be much worse for him, when he would curse his decision.

After that, they had to wait for about forty minutes, during which the man just sat on the bed. His face looked as if he was simultaneously chewing a lemon, restraining a sudden case of diarrhea, and experiencing very unpleasant sensations in his stomach. It was an amusing sight, in John's opinion. But if there are abilities, one can see much more. And the blonde saw how a clone was slowly forming inside Mesmer, somehow emerging from the blood and hair. A strange sight, but captivating.

Finally, the performer jumped up and stood facing the bed, then took off his shirt, and a complete copy of Becca began to separate from his abdomen. The sight of the man groaning in pain and the woman separating from him was not the most pleasant sight, aesthetically speaking. But after this unpleasant process for both of them, the promised clone lay on the bed. And there was no intelligence in the resulting clone's eyes, just an empty shell. All the better.

— You can go. — John said to the exhausted man, who nodded weakly and left the room.

Next, John locked the doors and proceeded to the most important part. Taking out a syringe, which he had brought along with doses of Compound V, he filled it with the liquid. Then, following the instructions, he carefully injected the needle into one of the kidneys, awaiting a reaction. And it was immediate.

— Mmmmmmh! — the clone fiercely grunted as he held her body, which was actively changing. John calmly exhaled, waiting for the changes to end. After all, he shouldn't endanger the mother of his child if he wasn't sure of the result. And the clone would help him with that.

***

The next day, John placed a large kettlebell in front of Ryan, with the number ten painted on it. John lifted it with his finger and smiled at the boy, under the slightly worried gaze of his mother. But Rebecca didn't interfere, understanding that he knew what he was doing.

— It's hollow inside, — John explained, placing it on the ground. — Try to lift it.

— Okay, — Ryan replied uncertainly, noticing his mother's strange state. He grabbed the thick handle with both hands and slowly pulled it towards him. Tension appeared on his face, with which he gradually lifted the kettlebell to his chest and sharply dropped it on the ground. — Ha... Heavy thing. Why is this?

— I just wanted to make sure of something. Now go home, you can play something, — John smiled, patting him on the head.

The child smiled carefree and ran home, showing thoughtfulness for only a moment, while Rebecca approached the kettlebell and, grabbing it, pulled it towards herself. But none of her efforts were enough to lift the kettlebell even an inch off the ground. She stared at the blonde in shock.

— It's seventy kilograms, or one hundred and fifty-four pounds. — John explained without delay, in response to the woman's questioning look.

— Twice his weight. — Rebecca muttered, stunned, finally understanding how strong her son was.

— Over time, he will be able to lift much more, it's a matter of time, — John continued, based on how it was with himself, that is, with Homelander. — But we shouldn't forget that he is still a child and is not yet able to stand up for himself.

— And that's why you're suggesting injecting me with the compound? — Rebecca asked cautiously, knowing from John's stories that it was categorically not recommended for adults.

— I won't always be with you and you have to understand that, Becca.

— And the side effects? Are there any? — She asked the main question that would help her decide.

— I checked everything. There will be no side effects, if you mean noticeable body mutation.

— If you say so, — Rebecca sighed, realizing that refusing was foolish. Not when her son's peaceful life depended on it. — Is it painful?

— Excruciating. — The man did not lie to her.

— You should have lied about that. — She muttered, rolling her eyes.

— I don't want to lose your trust.

— As if that were so important. — The woman smirked, liking the blonde's words very much, despite the grimness.

— For me... it is important. — John said in response, smiling. To which she did not reply, but the woman's heartbeat spoke for itself. He had certainly gained Rebecca's trust.

— When can we start? — She loudly exhaled, jumping in place, as if about to leap into an abyss.

— Right now, if you want.

— Then what are we waiting for? If it's going to hurt anyway, why postpone it? — Rebecca replied, trying to lift the kettlebell again, but again without much success.

— Since you ask, — John nodded and brought a syringe with a dose of Compound V and some cotton and alcohol from the house. — Let's go a little further away, so the screaming isn't heard.

— You do realize that sounded extremely ambiguous? — Rebecca smirked, heading towards a remote part of the forest.

— I don't know what you mean. — John smiled, striding after her. He himself would certainly be much more worried if he were in her place.

The forest wasn't particularly dense, but it could certainly hide a man and a woman who were doing god knows what. So a secluded spot was found quickly, and then Rebecca had to lie down on a fallen log, stomach down.

— Is this hygienic? — she asked belatedly, as if only now realizing where the compound would be administered.

— We are in the forest right now, where there is dirt, germs, and small animal excrement everywhere. Of course it's hygienic, — John snorted, wiping the area around her kidneys with the alcohol-soaked cotton. After which he handed her a wooden spatula, straight from the kitchen. — Clench this in your teeth.

— Ha... ha... ha... Very funny, John. I'm just howling with laughter. — Rebecca flinched, feeling the needle smoothly penetrating her skin, and then the compound being injected into her. The spatula was immediately in her teeth.

— Done. — He pulled out the needle, immediately noticing changes in her body.

Rebecca literally growled, clenching the spatula in her teeth as tightly as possible, causing a distinct crackling sound. John immediately sat on top of her to hold her in place. The pain she felt was hellish, as if not blood but damn lava was flowing through her veins. Her temperature rose sharply, and the woman began to struggle, trying to break free from his grip with a growl, noticeably scratching the bark of the log in the process. Gradually, these scratches deepened, eventually resembling the claw marks of some predator.

And no wonder, because black claws, no less than eight centimeters long, grew extremely quickly in place of her nails. But not only the log suffered because of her ferocity, but also John, or rather his clothes. In a couple of minutes, she managed to shred his shirt with her claws. Her eyes turned red with rage, and she didn't come to herself for about ten more minutes, until she finally passed out.

— It looks like... it was successful. — John said in an uncertain tone, watching the claws retract back inside.

Without much thought, he picked her up and carried her towards the house. She needed a good night's sleep, especially after such an unpleasant experience in her life. Rebecca slept for almost thirty minutes, during which John did not leave her bedside for a minute. He x-rayed her to see the differences from the clone's transformation. And considering that the mutation was identical, the differences were minimal.

— Don't tell me you sat there all day waiting for me to wake up. — Rebecca winced, turning her head towards him. She no longer felt pain, although the memory of it was too vivid.

— Only thirty minutes have passed and everything went well. I just wanted to make sure... although, you know, never mind. — John waved dismissively.

— You better finish that thought, I'll die of curiosity! — The woman protested fairly, albeit jokingly.

— Alright, I was afraid you would fall into a rage again.

— A rage?

— Well, yeah, like growling, eyes turning red, and trying to kill everyone. You shredded my whole shirt. And it's my favorite. — He decided to be honest with her after all, adding a note of condemnation to his voice.

— Okay-ay, — Rebecca drawled and stretched out her hand, looking at it with interest. — I think I remember how I did it.

John watched with interest as she focused on breathing out and smoothly releasing long claws from her fingers. Rebecca looked at what came out of her fingers in shock, at the black claws, whose very sight instilled apprehension. And when used...

— Holy shit, I thought it would hurt. — The woman muttered, stunned.

— It seems you really are in shock. — John snorted, hearing a swear word from her mouth for the first time.

— And how do I retract them? — She asked the blonde, who just shrugged. — Fine, I'll figure it out myself.

— You're fast. — The man smirked, seeing how the claws quickly retracted back into her fingers after her words. It seemed to work on an intuitive level, like his heat vision, which under no circumstances can fire without the superhuman's awareness.

— You know, it's like riding a bike. Only even easier. — Rebecca smiled, releasing and retracting the claws, without any discomfort. Which only confirmed his guess.

Suddenly, she jumped out of bed and ran to the first floor, and he followed her, soon finding himself in the backyard. She had become much more flexible and faster, skillfully leaping over the stairs. And there was nothing for him to do but follow her. And she smiled, picked up the kettlebell, and even started playing with it, tossing it up and catching it in mid-air.

— This is so cool! — Becca breathed out enthusiastically, continuing to play in front of two spectators now.

— What's happening with Mom? — Ryan asked, who also came out to see where the woman had run off to.

— The first forty years of childhood are the hardest in a girl's life. However, this also applies to boys, — John smiled, under the indignant gaze of the "girl." Suddenly, the phone in his pocket vibrated and, reading the message, he turned to Becca. — I have to go, for work.

— Okay, — the not-at-all-out-of-breath woman nodded, to which he nodded back and went into the house to change.

***

— A simple girl from the countryside wanted to change the world... — The voiceover spoke, over a montage of clips.

— Since when did "full of hope" and "naïve" become synonyms? — Starlight's voice sounded.

— Despite all the difficulties, she made her statement so loudly, so sincerely, that her voice broke through with an unrestrained roar! Hear her story! Before your eyes, she will rise up and fight back, for all of us! Citizen Starlight! Produced by Vought International. — The monologue ended with a pop song by Katy Perry, showing the name of the new show.

— Why do I feel... disgusted? — Annie pursed her lips, looking at me, after watching the commercial.

— Even absolute truth, when wrapped in a TV format, becomes sickly sweet and even... not so true. — I chuckled in response. I recalled various scandalous TV shows that exploited the grief of ordinary citizens, showcasing their difficult, and sometimes disgusting, family relationships.

Sighing, I slumped onto the couch. I can afford it, considering these are my private apartments. Annie only smiled at my actions and lay down next to me, looking into my eyes. For too long.

— Will it always be like this?

— Yes.

— You can't be called an optimist. — The blonde snorted and fell silent for a few seconds, just looking at me.

— What?

— You have such deep blue eyes... they physically attract you. I even get goosebumps. — Annie shared her thoughts, gently kissing me on the lips.

— Interesting observation. — I smirked when we pulled away from each other.

— You know, in the Bahamas there's a beach where the sand is literally pink. — The girl spoke thoughtfully.

— And what is it called?

— Pink Sand Beach, — Annie smiled shyly, cuddling up to me. — What if we fly there?

— Why not? Only in that case, you'll get frostbite everywhere. — I snorted, reminding her of the experience of flying with me, smiling at the girl's indignant face.

— I was talking about a plane!

— I figured, — I smiled at her, pulling the blonde who tried to pull away close. — Let's do it. I'm ready.

— Really? — Annie asked hopefully.

— Absolutely. — I answered confidently, expecting another kiss in gratitude.

— Then why are we lounging around? The faster we get to the airport, the sooner we'll be on the beach! — The girl jumped up, looking at me expectantly, not seeing disappointment on my face.

— Alright, you win. — I rolled my eyes, remembering that I supposedly had my own private jet, which was provided by the company.

For once, I'll use it for its intended purpose.

Chapter Text

The warm sunlight offered its heat, and the sea breeze gently enveloped his body. It was extremely pleasant to simply close his eyes and relax on the deck chair, not thinking at all about all the problems that might start without his participation. No need to think about what to do, considering that much of what he had planned had already been put into action. Rebecca could very well take out the entire squad that Vought might send after them, given her strength, which he had already tested himself.

Opening his eyes, he looked at the sand, which immediately drew attention with its unusual color. Pink sand... that was certainly an exaggeration. In reality, the sand here was completely ordinary, and its unusual color was due to microscopic shells that the surf ground into fine grains and brought to the shore of Harbour Island with the waves. This was much more clearly visible to John's eyes, which could see much further and clearer than the eyes of almost any supe, let alone a human.

Next, his gaze caught the water, so clean and transparent that even with the naked eye, visibility in it reached sixty meters. And in this water was a tempting figure in a yellow bikini, heading towards him with a smile. Droplets of water ran down her body excitingly, and hardened nipples were visible through the soaked bra. A smile naturally appeared on his face when she approached.

— What happened? — Annie smiled, interested in the reason for it.

— Has anyone ever told you that you're freaking sexy in a bikini?

— Not in those exact words, — the blonde snorted, settling her firm butt onto the neighboring deck chair. — You don't like swimming?

— Probably... it's something psychological. — John suggested, looking thoughtfully towards the water, which caused him internal anxiety. The sight of it itself didn't scare him, he could still calmly fly across the ocean, just for fun. But for some reason, he didn't want to venture into it.

— Did you almost drown?

— Hmm? — He turned his head towards her, interested in her question.

— I just knew a guy when I was a kid who almost drowned once. Since then, he couldn't stand the sight of... water in a pool or even a bathtub. No need to even talk about the sea, — she recalled it with a forced smile, remembering how many people had laughed at him for it.

Now she understood that if he hadn't been bullied back then, he would have made an excellent superhero. Low self-esteem had simply stripped him of his self-confidence, causing him to become withdrawn. And yet, he possessed an excellent ability for self-healing.

— Mine is more... extraordinary, to be honest.

— And what happened? Was it when you were a child?

The blonde was interested, looking at him with her clear eyes.

— I was five years old. The day was quite standard, actually. Attempts to penetrate my skin by shooting various weapons and drilling. Let's just say, a very typical childhood for the strongest superhuman in the world, — John saw how the girl's face stretched wider in shock with every word. — That day, Dr. Vogelbaum took me out of the sterile chamber early in the morning and brought me to a large titanium pool, with a single transparent window.

— That's awful. — Annie muttered dryly, looking at him with pity. Her very good imagination vividly presented her with a picture of those inhumane experiments, which made her blood run cold.

— That's not what's awful. What's awful is spending seven hours there without air until you pass out, — John chuckled, sitting up and settling on the deck chair. — As I said, not everything is as it's shown on television. I'm not a simple farm boy from Texas who decided to get into hero work. I'm more of a superhero who was raised in a test tube.

— And everyone in The Seven knows about this? — The girl asked, shocked to realize that Homelander's official story was a lie.

— What do you think? — The blonde smiled softly, seeing all her emotions right on her face. — Even Maeve doesn't know about it.

— Then why tell me about it? — she wondered how he could entrust such a secret to someone he had known for less than a year. She would hardly have been able to do that.

— Because I want to trust someone, anyone, besides Madelyn, — John confessed. — And as far as I'm concerned... you're perfectly suited for the role of the person I can entrust my biggest secret to.

— I don't believe you.

— What?

— I don't believe you trusted me. — She got up from the deck chair, standing in front of him.

— And how am I supposed to prove it another way? — He smiled at the absurdity of the situation.

— Very simply. Trust me, for real.

Annie spoke in a completely serious tone, holding out her hand, although her heart rate betrayed her nervousness. John took her hand and she sharply pulled him toward the water. And he didn't like that at all, and it even made him stop abruptly.

— What are you planning?

His eyebrows furrowed, he didn't like what was happening at all.

— I want to see if you really trust me. — Annie answered calmly, pulling him toward the water again. And this time, he didn't resist.

Step by step, they slowly approached the sea, looking into each other's eyes, and then they touched the water and went further, to where it was deeper. And only when the water almost reached his chest did John feel worse. He started breathing more frequently, as if he lacked air. His heart pounded in his chest like crazy, as if it was about to break free. His eyes even reflexively glowed red, alarming the girl.

— John, calm down, I'm here. — She gently touched his cheek, looking confidently into his blood-red eyes.

— I-I'm fine.

John controlled himself, bringing his raging emotions under control. He hadn't expected the influence of Homelander's memory to be so strong, although he had seen the prerequisites for it. It would be great if this was all there was to it.

Soon the water reached Annie's neck, while it only reached John's shoulders. They stopped, still maintaining eye contact. The girl quietly exhaled, seeing the fear in his eyes, which he tried hard to hide.

— Relax. — Annie whispered quietly, taking hold of his shoulders. Then she slowly began to lower him down, under the water.

John looked at this in shock, but did not resist, trusting the girl. Memories of spending an incredible amount of time underwater, suffocating and surviving only on a single breath before immersion, immediately surfaced in his mind. The blonde saw her looking at him, still continuing to lower him down.

Before he could fully feel his irrational fear of the deep, he slowly began to rise to the surface, lying on his back. Annie supported his back, pushing him up so he could breathe easily.

— Close your eyes... Relax... — The girl's quiet whisper was soothing, despite the fact that she had literally been drowning him moments before. — Let the water lift you.

John quietly exhaled, feeling Annie let go of his back. But very quickly he felt that his body was not going to sink, despite his weight, and with the realization of this came enormous relief. Although he understood the reason for this from a rational point of view, emotionally, he still found release from anxiety. At some point, John even managed to completely relax, only remembering where he was when Annie shook him.

***

The first night in the Bahamas, romance, revelations, and suddenly... the trust I had placed. Let's just say that after that, Annie didn't even need excessive foreplay. As soon as we entered the hotel room, the girl immediately threw herself at me, kissing me passionately. We could have continued that way, but we had to break off to take off the clothes that were in the way and sit on the couch. The blonde didn't complicate things and simply sat on top. Resuming the kiss, I began to caress the pleasant curves of her slender body. Not so much enjoying her, as much as caressing the girl herself. And after a while, she began to impatiently rock her pelvis, just to rub her itching crotch against my hardened member, through my swimming trunks.

I interrupted the kiss again and looked into the girl's eyes, Annie was definitely ready now. Running my palms over her slender body, I grasped the girl's firm butt to hook her panties and pulled them down, freeing the girl's crotch.

She awkwardly tried to rid me of my trunks as well, to finally get to my tool, but I helped her manage it faster. After that, placing it against Starlight's moist slit, making her gasp with anticipation, I inserted it. It felt so great to finally pound this beauty.

— Mghhh... — The blonde moaned, biting her lip, descending onto my aroused member.

Clutching her butt tighter, I made a thrusting motion with my pelvis. Annie thrust her groin back in response. Her pussy contracted eagerly, though not enough to cause me any discomfort. The girl started moving even faster. I felt her tension grow, making the beauty practically writhe on me. Meanwhile, my own movements were more measured, maintaining a certain rhythm and speed.

— Ohh... — Annie was breathing heavily.

Nevertheless, she was already highly aroused. The short but sensual thrusts quickly brought her to the edge, where a wave of orgasm washed over her.

— Oh-aa-ah-ah... — The girl groaned loudly, not holding back.

And she fell onto me, pressing her beautiful body against mine. A bright light flashed from beneath her half-closed eyelids, blinking intermittently, fading and then flaring up with new strength. And since I hadn't come yet, I decided to speed up while the girl was blissful, enjoying the pulsating sensation of the orgasm that was just beginning to subside. But her genitals were too sensitive at that moment, and the continuing sliding movements gave her even more pleasure.

But finally...

A sharp thrust and I froze in my current position, driving my member as deep as possible into Annie, only to immediately shoot a thick stream of semen into her.

This reminded me of Becca and Maeve. Well, yes, I'm taking into account that Annie might get pregnant after this. Which is still extremely unlikely. But if it does happen, I'll be able to control the situation and won't allow a repeat of the situation with hiding my child.

— Haa... awesome.

And yet, having come inside her, I was in no hurry to pull my member out of the girl. It felt too good inside her to just stop. So, I just stroked the beauty's cheek before kissing her again, and simultaneously resuming movement. Our bodies are much more resilient than those of ordinary people, in terms of libido included. Therefore, there was no problem with us simply continuing, practically without pause, and without changing position.

I pulled her bra off to enjoy the girl's beautiful breasts. Young beautiful breasts... I couldn't just stare at them for long and, succumbing to the impulse, pressed my lips to them. Starlight moaned, holding my head with her hands, burying her fingers in my hair. I, however, only began to torment her breasts more intensely, sucking on them greedily while squeezing one with my hand. But this only caused a gnawing disappointment, from which the desire only grew.

— S-stop... — The girl requested excitedly.

— Sorry, was I too rough? — With a sigh, I let go of the girl's breast.

— A little... ohhh... — She came again, as we hadn't stopped moving the whole time.

And after a while, having made Starlight come a fourth time, I decided to change position. Laying the girl on the couch, I settled onto her delicate pussy again and inserted myself, looming over Annie. She gasped, not expecting me to grab her hips and lift them. Also pulling her pelvis up higher, I sped up the pace, bursting into her vagina with powerful thrusts. I held back a little less and the girl's excited screams mixed with her sighs. She was stunned. After all, with thrusts like these, I could easily injure an ordinary girl! But Starlight's abilities allowed her not only to withstand it but also to get even more pleasure than before.

— Ughh... — Tilting my head back, I soon emptied my clip again, releasing all the tension inside Annie. After that, without leaving her pussy, I turned the girl onto her side and, bending her leg, started pounding into her pussy again.

— Maaa...

A bright flash hit from her eyes again. And, with the final thrust, with which a stream of semen shot from my member again, the couch beneath us simply couldn't take it. It broke and collapsed beneath us.

— Waa... — Annie squeaked, breathing heavily.

I lay on my back, exhaling after all that, holding the girl close. Considering we weren't here for just one day... the vacation would be eventful.

***

A neatly furnished office, a desk, and the American flag in the corner. Everything as it should be in the office of the Deputy Director of the CIA. And now Susan Raynor was sitting at the negotiation table and looking with superiority at the equally influential woman who held the position of Senior Vice President of Hero Management. On both sides of Raynor were two operatives who were there to witness everything. And if Stillwell had not had to fear attacks from the CIA before, the situation was now completely the opposite.

— Ms. Raynor, I perfectly understand that you're savoring the moment to upset me with some news. But please, make it quick. As you can imagine, I'm a very busy woman. — Stillwell spoke with an incredibly irritating, practiced smile, awaiting a response.

— Oh, of course. But I'm afraid that for the subsequent years, you'll be busy with what I'm about to tell you, you corporate whore. — Raynor smirked, not mincing words at all, placing a test tube with blue liquid on the table. It gave her great pleasure how Stillwell lost her composure for just a moment.

— And what is this?

— As far as I know, you call this Compound V. Although, what am I saying? You know much more about this crap than I do, right? — She pulled out a photograph of an Asian woman in shackles.

— I don't know what you're talking about. — Stillwell stopped smiling, not understanding why she was being shown some Asian woman. But she was perfectly capable of putting two and two together.

— I'm talking about the exposé of the century, Madelyn. Vought's shares will crash, lawsuits will pour in. Criminal prosecution... and then bankruptcy. And you'll trade that suit for an orange one, for a term of fifteen to thirty years. — Raynor announced with a smile, looking the woman in the eyes.

— What do you want?

— For starters, no superheroes in the armed forces.

— The bill has already gone for a vote, which will take place any day now.

— And you will recall it. For concept redevelopment or whatever, I don't care. But it won't happen. We'll return to the status quo, where we are the law and the power in this country. And you, those jackasses prancing around in front of crazy fans, dressed up in colorful tights. Is that clear?

— I'll have to discuss this with my superiors.

— Well, run, Forrest, — Raynor smiled, watching the woman stand up and leave the room, after which she turned to the men — You can go.

As soon as they left, Raynor stood up from the chair and settled into her favorite armchair, for which she had busted her ass for years. Why not relax in it, since she earned it, considering what was happening. But she wasn't allowed to relax for even a minute; her secretary, who was supposed to be standing by the office door, entered.

— Mrs. Raynor, Mr. Butcher wants to come in. — The young girl said uncertainly.

— Let him in, and no visitors or calls. — The woman replied, looking with a sigh at the bearded Brit who entered.

— Well, hello, Raynor, — he sat down on the chair without ceremony, crossing his leg over the other. — How did it go?

— Fine. — The woman replied, not wanting to see the bastard in the black trench coat right now.

— So my demands will be met? — Billy smirked, as only he could.

— How did you manage not to be seen by them? As far as I know, they have no idea who is pulling all this off. — She looked at him with a question, not intending to answer immediately.

— Let's just say, I have my ways. — Billy leaned in, looking her in the eyes.

— I know your methods, Butcher. — Susan chuckled, looking at the Brit with suspicion.

— You didn't answer my question.

Butcher frowned, giving her that look that gave her goosebumps. At moments like these, it was better not to mess with him.

— Homelander can't just be locked up.

— What if I bring irrefutable evidence? — The man didn't give up.

— Billy, we have nothing with which we could not only grab that bastard, but even defend ourselves from him, — Raynor sighed, irritating Butcher. — Unless you find some kind of weapon with which you can do it. Or at least something with which you can pressure him.

— And if I do?

— Be my guest. — The woman pursed her lips, understanding what problems such a search could lead to. But there was no way she could stop him either.

— Clear. I'll wait for your call that all the necessary documents are prepared and the boys and I can get to work. — Butcher stood up from the chair, soon exiting the room.

— Left the English way, how predictable. — Raynor chuckled, leaning back in her chair. Just hoping this bastard wouldn't ruin everything. And it was time for her to deal with whoever organized the damn terrorist attack on the passenger plane.

Butcher calmly left the office and went into the elevator, soon finding himself outside. Walking to the parking lot, he sat inside the van, where he met MM's gaze.

— So, what's up? — The black brute asked, impatiently tapping the steering wheel.

— Everything is perfectly fine. Our demands will be met tomorrow. — Butcher smirked.

— Did you tell her about Homelander? — MM asked, only to see a highly expressive look in response. — You didn't tell her.

— It looks like he erased all the camera footage, so you don't have to worry.

— Don't worry? Butcher, he knows us by sight and most likely, he already knows where I live. No need to even mention you and Hughie, — the man protested at his calmness. — Without Raynor's protection...

— He'll find us either way, — Butcher frowned. — Your family is already safe, so be happy. Because in a couple of days, they'll be untouchable.

— That's what they call outcasts. — MM sighed, leaning back in the seat.

— Do you think I'm a professor? How was I supposed to know? — Butcher protested.

— Why would Homelander do that? — MM suddenly asked, breaking the silence. — Is it some kind of game, where he deliberately let the prey go, only to...

— He doesn't have such a goal, we just happened to turn up lucky. Most likely, that asshole would have taken everything to Raynor himself, even without us. You heard his speech.

— So what now?

— We have to go somewhere.

— Where?

— To Mallory's.

— Are you sure? — MM asked uncertainly.

— What do you think? — Butcher looked at him completely seriously. Soon the van started moving and pulled onto the road.

Chapter Text

I was able to overcome my fear extremely quickly, feeling only a slight apprehension before another dive. And after a short time, the depths of the ocean were probably mesmerizing only to me and The Deep. The water in the aquatic space covering most of the Earth's surface was just too murky. It quickly became clear that simple eyes were completely unsuited for deep diving.

Light simply struggles to penetrate the water column. Algae and plants only survive in the first one or two hundred meters; beyond that, there isn't enough light for photosynthesis. And when speaking of great depths, although their inhabitants possess highly specialized—in the bioluminescent spectrum—vision, they only need it to see each other and distinguish glowing predators from, for example, potential mating partners.

The yellow and red spectrums disappeared first, almost immediately. In the first fifty meters, I could see the water in a green color; closer to a hundred meters, the water first took on a green-blue palette, then a blue-green one, and by three hundred meters, a blackish-blue had swallowed all the colors. I could still see here, but below me was completely impenetrable darkness. Further down, X-ray vision and the light from my laser vision helped. Even a small beam of light provided very good visibility for my eyes.

Orientation underwater presents certain difficulties for a diver. On the surface, a person orients themselves in the environment using sight, and balance is maintained using the vestibular apparatus, the muscular-articular sense, and sensations arising in the internal organs and skin when the body changes position. They constantly experience the effect of gravity and perceive the slightest change in body position in space.

But here, there is no familiar support underfoot; of all the sense organs that orient a person in space, only the vestibular apparatus remains, whose otoliths continue to be affected by the forces of gravity. But, fortunately, I wasn't human; thanks to superhuman physiology, my vestibular apparatus was on a completely different level compared to the human one, and I felt myself and my position in the water almost as well as I had previously felt in the air.

My flight speed increased with every second, and very quickly I reached the very bottom... but didn't see much. Theories about the biggest monsters of the deep inhabiting the bottom turned out to be just theories. Well, I didn't see anything unknown to humans, at all. The same whales, the same big fish, long fish... their size was surprising, though, but nothing more. So, after an hour, I emerged from the water near the shore of one of the islands in the Bahamas.

Fortunately, out of seven hundred islands, only thirty were inhabited, so there was a place where I could leave my swimming trunks. Yes, I had to engage in extreme diving with a bare ass, as the trunks would not have withstood the stress that awaited them. Snorting at my own thoughts about it, I pulled on my trunks and dove into the water again. In a couple of minutes, I reached the pink sand island, where I emerged from the water. And reaching the deck chair, I started to get dressed when my phone rang.

— Yes, Madelyn? — I answered her, looking at the kids who were building a sandcastle. The gaze of the boy among them was too intent.

— Where are you? — The woman asked with an anxious voice; she was definitely not in a good mood.

— In the Bahamas, specifically on Harbour Island. A beautiful place, you should visit it.

— Someone gave the CIA Compound V, and they intend to put me behind bars. I need you here.

— You need me? Madelyn, those are your problems, and this time I won't interfere with them, — a smile naturally appeared on my face. — Just don't tell me this is a dead end. I'm not going to break the law over this.

— You've done it many times before! How will you like it if I turn you in to them?! — Stillwell screamed hysterically. She definitely seemed to be having a bad day, if she was showing so many unnecessary emotions.

— Do as you wish, Madelyn. But you know the consequences... and so do they, — I snorted into the phone, squinting from the sunlight. — Just agree to their terms.

— I'll lose everything. I'll be replaced...

— No, not if I vouch for you. Believe me, Edgar won't fire you. — I answered her confidently, after which silence fell on the other end.

— Was it you who set this up? — The woman finally spoke, breathing out quietly.

— Are you Homelander? — The same boy walked up to me, to which I smiled and knelt down in front of him.

— Of course I am, just don't tell anyone about it, — I smiled at the rascal, putting a finger to my lips. — Do we understand each other?

The boy nodded enthusiastically, most likely perceiving my words as a game, and then ran off to the other children. Soon all the children would know who he had just talked to.

— Yes. — Came from the receiver, and my smile only grew wider.

***

Long black claws passed a millimeter from his face, ultimately failing to reach their target. The attacks then became more intense and faster with every second, and John continued to dodge right at the edge of his opponent's capabilities. In general, he was many times faster than any known supe, excluding speedsters. Those guys are extremely difficult to overtake on the ground when they accelerate, but that's not accounting for flight. Chuckling at his own thoughts, he dodged again and this time struck back. More accurately, he pushed his opponent to the ground, from where she got up with a feigned groan. Rebecca loudly exhaled, brushing the dirt off her clothes.

— You're too fast. — The woman complained, looking at him with indignation.

— And you're too predictable. — John chuckled, slightly regretting having to leave the island.

Two days off is too little, but it was perfect for a breather after all the events. Annie held the same opinion; she also couldn't stay on Harbour Island for long. She was awaited for the filming of a new show that Vought had planned. But John flew straight to the house by the forest.

— In what way am I predictable?

— Be more inventive, or you'll be easily neutralized. Believe me, you're currently at the level of a strong, but still quite average-strength supe. Although, that's by my standards. In principle, you could contend with Noir and The Deep.

— What a flattering statement. — Becca rolled her eyes before making another direct lunge towards him.

— Predictable. — John commented, again dodging without any effort; the agility of a simple human would have sufficed.

— That's not fair!

— Keep your hands in front of you, — the man sighed, taking her hands. — You constantly keep them behind you, which makes your wind-up extremely easy to see.

— Clear, what's next? — Becca looked at him with interest, and most importantly, with enthusiasm.

— Short, but quick lunges would work better here, — the blonde continued, demonstrating with his own example. — In your case, the main thing isn't a deadly blow, but whether you can land it.

— In what sense?

— Let's just say, focus on speed and agility, not on brute force. You need mobility, roughly speaking. And a direct assault isn't an option here... only as a last resort.

— That's too complicated. — Becca pursed her lips.

— I know, but you don't have a significant advantage in durability, and your ability is geared towards close combat. — John sighed, recalling how effective Black Noir was in this regard. He was probably taught by more competent people, and John had to work with what he had.

— So what now?

— Start over. — The blonde replied, stepping back a couple of paces and taking off his t-shirt, so Ryan wouldn't ask questions about ruined clothes. At the same time, he couldn't help but notice Becca's gaze, which didn't peel off his torso for the first couple of seconds.

The subsequent training was much more interesting due to the changes that occurred in the girl's fighting style. Her movements began to resemble those of an animal more strongly, and this suggested that she was succumbing to instinct. This time she became much more inventive, trying to reach him from behind. And she failed simply because there was too much noise, which John pointed out to her.

Two hours passed extremely quickly, as if time had been accelerated many times over. Just as quickly, Becca adapted to her abilities, becoming more agile and quieter. Her strikes became much more lethal; this time she aimed for the most vulnerable spots of an ordinary person. She most often tried to reach his eyes, neck, legs, and back. But this was exactly what ultimately caused every one of her failures in trying to reach him.

— You're too noisy and still predictable. — John chuckled, grabbing her right in mid-jump and throwing her to the ground.

— And you're still rude. — Becca sighed, shaking clumps of dirt from her hair.

— Really? You'll say thank you when these skills save your life, — the man responded with displeasure. — We're not playing games here.

As soon as the blonde was distracted by his words to her, she pounced on him. Becca jumped on him, without retracting her claws, and cupping his face in her hands, kissed him passionately. She herself didn't understand what she was doing, simply succumbing to a sudden impulse. But strangely enough, she managed to catch the blonde off guard. And John only supported her, soon taking the initiative. He pressed her back against the tree trunk, lowering his hands to her buttocks, squeezing them with pleasure in his hands. His lips took in the beauty's lips harder and harder, until gradually, slowly releasing them. Their eyes met and couldn't look away from each other. The kiss turned out to be not at all long, rather even too quick. So much so that both wanted more, and it should have happened in just a moment.

— Mom? Dad? — Ryan's sudden appearance forced them to immediately pull away from each other.

— Ryan! — Becca awkwardly spoke her son's name, not knowing where to put herself. — Did something happen?

— I wanted to ask Dad to play the console, — the boy replied, looking perplexed at his mother, who was embarrassed by her appearance, and his completely calm father.

— Well, if my champion wants to play, how can I refuse. — John smiled, pulling on his t-shirt and picking up the laughing child, sitting him on his shoulders. The blonde cheerfully strode towards the house, thinking about what to do next with what had just happened.

— God, what am I doing. — Becca covered her face with her hands, trying to simply ignore the feeling of shame that appeared after her son's call.

Only after a couple of seconds, quietly sighing, she followed the two of them. The shame faded into the background, as did the thoughts about the act she had committed. At the same time, her thoughts increasingly turned to the need for a shower. Standing under a stream of hot water would be most welcome right now, to wash away all the dirt from her hair and the sweat from her body. It helped very well to detach from everything else.

They reached the house quickly enough, as they hadn't wandered far. Entering the house, Rebecca immediately went upstairs, locking herself in the bathroom. She looked in the mirror and sighed softly. Such behavior was completely uncharacteristic of her; there had never been a moment in her life when she threw herself at a man like a wild animal. Unless... with a sound barely audible even to her ears, long claws shot out from her fingers.

— So, falling into a rage. — Rebecca muttered thoughtfully, only now realizing how great the influence of her newly acquired abilities was on herself.

Such news did not please her at all, but at the same time, she felt so good that it was hard to describe in words. Incredible body flexibility, strength surpassing any human, and hearing and smell sharpened several times over. What's more, even her taste buds seemed to have been renewed, which made her feel the full range of food flavors when eating. She was different now; she was no longer the Becca that her friends, family, and... Billy knew.

— I need to freshen up. — Rebecca muttered, deciding not to think about all this.

***

John concentrated on pressing the joystick buttons, watching the unfolding fight between Homelander and Nubia, a Black heroine in Brooklyn who had until recently worked with her husband, the Nubian Prince. It seemed they hadn't quite worked out their family relations, but that's beside the point. To generalize, they were now working separately and doing quite well.

Her abilities were good, considering that she could fly and shoot lightning from her fingers. However, although it looked impressive, it was less effective than Starlight's light beams, which determined who would be in The Seven. That's how Homelander reasoned, as he was directly involved in selecting female candidates. It was simply a fact that female heroes always generate interest from a broad audience.

— And how do you constantly win? — John feigned indignation, seeing thick lightning bolts, which were very far from reality, shot at Homelander. Nubia's lightning was simply too thin and harmless even for an average supe, let alone the strongest.

— Homelander is just predictable, Dad. — Ryan smiled, looking at his father.

— Really?

— Yes, he has limited moves that are easy to anticipate. And... you constantly use him. — The child answered shyly, considering it an unfair advantage.

— I'm just used to it. — The man chuckled at his own simple joke.

He looked at his son, thinking about the future. He should teach Ryan something that would give him protection. Flight would be great as the first skill he mastered. How to shoot lasers from his eyes should not be shown at all, at least until he's ten. It's too powerful of a thing that needs control. John could make the beams invisible and even reduce the heat to a minimum, but on the first use, the lasers turn on to full power simply due to inexperience.

— Maybe we should play again? We need to choose someone else this time. — The man spoke thoughtfully, looking at the TV screen.

— Uh-huh. — The child nodded, already choosing a new character when the phone rang.

— Yes, Madelyn? — The blonde answered, surprised by the sudden call from Stillwell. At the moment, she simply couldn't be distracted by calls, being completely buried in work.

— John, I... we need to talk. — The woman's anxious voice sounded, and it immediately put him on alert.

— Has something happened?

— Yes, but this isn't a phone conversation.

— Clear, I'm already on my way. — John replied, hanging up. Something in her voice made him take this more seriously than usual.

— Are you leaving? — Ryan looked at him with sad eyes.

— Believe me, not for long, — the superhuman ruffled his hair, deciding to cheer up his son. — Will you wait for me?

— Of course! — The child brightened up.

— That's great. — The blonde smiled and went upstairs to change.

Before he reached the guest room, Rebecca came out of the bathroom. She looked at him in surprise, immediately grabbing the towel, which she carelessly wrapped around her sexy body. To make matters worse, the purple towel was so short that it barely covered her private parts. John barely refrained from devouring her with his eyes and still turned away so as not to embarrass her.

— You're... leaving already. — Becca stated, and he even heard dissatisfaction with this fact in her voice.

She had become more emotional after taking the serum, John noted. And he couldn't say he disliked it.

— Yes, for work. — He replied, confirming her words.

— We will discuss... what happened, won't we?

— Absolutely.

— Good. — Becca even said with some relief, soon disappearing into her room.

John looked where she had just been standing and inhaled, smelling the pleasant, sweet, honey-like scent she had left behind. Sighing, he finally went into the room and, changing into the now familiar superhero costume, flew out the window. He needed to find out why Madelyn needed him.

Chapter Text

The sonic boom took a full two seconds, which caused me slight annoyance, considering how sensitive my hearing is. But immediately after, a silence descended that could truly be called "divine." My body felt as if it were inside a protective cocoon, within which only temperature could be felt, although that wasn't a drawback for me.

Getting to the city at such a speed took no time at all, although I had to reduce my speed to the acceptable minimum so that windows wouldn't shatter from the shockwaves. There was one incident, but that's not important now. I landed, by established habit, on my balcony. After that, I headed into the hallway and then to the elevator.

I entered Stillwell's office without knocking, knowing that she was only waiting for me and couldn't be busy right now.

— Good afternoon, Madelyn. — A smile appeared on my face the moment I saw her.

— Homelander, — the woman smiled back, pointing to the armchair opposite. — Sit down.

— This looks like it's going to take a while. — I sighed dramatically, winding my cape around my arm as I sat in the chair.

— No, it won't take much time. It's just... — she held a solemn pause, which I immediately disliked. — ...I have excellent news.

— Madelyn, don't keep me in suspense, — I chuckled, waving off her attempts to intrigue me. — Come on, tell me.

— The Seven are now in the military! — The woman almost shrieked, expecting the same reaction from me.

However, the same smirk remained on my face as before. Even if only for a second, it froze. That simply couldn't have happened, recalling the company's position just yesterday.

— Congratulations! — I opened my arms, as if about to hug her. — But how?

— And this is not the most pleasant news. — The smile dropped from her face and she turned her laptop screen towards me, having already started the recording.

The quality left much to be desired, but that wasn't the main thing; the events unfolding in the recording were. It looked like some kind of special forces operation, where they infiltrated a building and systematically liquidated all the people inside. They acted efficiently and ultimately eliminated the main target of the operation. Then a standard search was conducted, when a shirtless man, who had an inscription in Arabic on his chest, appeared in the operative's line of sight.

The operatives didn't hesitate and immediately began shooting at the brazen Arab who emerged with a menacing look. However, after only a couple of seconds, they were convinced that the man standing before them was no ordinary person. The bullets inflicted no harm on him, although they hit his bare skin. And even though the man covered his eyes with his hand, it was done more reflexively than consciously.

And then something happened that clearly demonstrated the reason why Congress approved the bill so quickly. A soft yellow light ignited inside the Arab's chest, flaring up to an unbearably bright glow within seconds, after which an explosion occurred. Immediately the shot changed, showing what a drone had filmed from the outside. And in the video, the same man calmly walked out of the burning building and looked at the drone, with a clear threat in his eyes.

— What do you say? — Madelyn looked at me intently, watching my reaction the entire time.

— How could this happen? — I furrowed my eyebrows, looking back at her.

In that moment, more than anything in the world, I wanted to choke a certain alternatively gifted blonde who had set all this up. And he knew this could happen!

Of course, given the circumstances, I basically couldn't do anything about what my predecessor had done. Even Homelander himself didn't fly to the terrorists, only sending packages via A-Train. Unfortunately, nothing could be undone, and I'd have to adapt to the situation.

— Perhaps someone sold the serum recipe. — Madelyn suggested, leaning back in her chair with a sigh.

— Vogelbaum? — I answered curtly, remembering the retired old man.

— You are too biased against him.

— Really? Wasn't it he who suggested keeping Ryan in a preserve, like an exotic animal? — I stood up from the chair, taking a couple of steps towards her. — What do you say, Madelyn? Senility is not uncommon at his age.

— No, he couldn't have sold the recipe. — The woman smiled tightly, shrinking into her chair.

— Oh, really? But I was asking about something else, — I smiled openly, looking at her with mockery in my gaze. — Calm down, I was joking. When was the last time you slept?

— I... two days ago. — She answered distractedly, seeing me approach her.

— See? You just need a break, at least for a couple of days, — I voiced my suggestion, standing behind her. — You can take Teddy and fly to Harbour Island. It's a beautiful place; I'll even lend you my plane.

— Homelander, I can't...

— Refusal is not accepted! — I stated categorically, starting to gently massage the worried woman's shoulders. — And while you're resting, I'll be helping the US Army deal with the problem of supe... terrorists.

— I can't leave my workplace. — She used another argument.

— When has that ever stopped us? — I continued to massage her shoulders, with a smirk in my voice.

— Well, alright. — Madelyn softened, finally relaxing.

She may not have acted in the best way towards my son, but I couldn't ignore her usefulness as a supervisor. The last few days have been extremely stressful for her, and she was close to a breakdown. But I would have to adjust my plans and deal with those to whom Homelander sent the Compound V packages.

***

Marvin impatiently tapped his fingers on the steering wheel, not forgetting to watch the road carefully. From time to time, he glanced at the almost equally thoughtful passenger sitting in the next seat. The Black man had his reasons for rejoining Billy Butcher's team, despite what had happened seemingly an eternity ago.

He admitted that he couldn't work sitting in some office, monitoring juvenile delinquents. And deep down, he was glad that this jerk had finally come to him. But that was then.

Now, Marvin was angry. He didn't know what all this plan of their leader's would lead to, but he still followed him. And consequently, he got burned by it again. The look on his wife's face when she and his daughter were led away to a safe place was... extremely unpleasant. So much so that when all this was over, the big guy decided to quit working for Butcher, so as not to lose his family because of his own mistakes.

— Butcher, — MM called out to the unofficial leader, who looked at him with a question. — We're here.

— Clear, — Billy nodded, glancing at the motel they had arrived at. — Let's go.

Marvin sighed and got out of the van after Butcher, with whom they had been sitting in the car for more than thirty minutes. Inside the room were already Frenchie, whom MM couldn't stand because of his chaotic decision-making, and Hughie, who was the newcomer to this group. But in this short time, he had managed to prove his usefulness and commitment to the cause.

— Frenchie, did you do what I told you? — Butcher asked immediately upon entering the room.

— Of course, I did everything. — He replied with a noticeable accent, and something in his tone didn't sit right with Butcher.

— Did you really leave that psycho there? — Billy frowned, already guessing the answer. He could read his team like an open book.

— She... couldn't have survived there. She would have starved to death.

Frenchie started to make excuses when he was interrupted by a slap that sent the least athletic member of the team to the floor.

— Oh, hell! — Hughie screamed, watching the events in shock. He was in no hurry to get involved in this squabble, which was good.

— Raynor's people were supposed to pick her up so that psycho could become material evidence that Vought is stuffing people with that blue crap! — Butcher roared, already approaching him to continue.

But MM didn't stand aside, restraining the extremely upset Billy from assaulting Frenchie. No matter what a junkie and completely irresponsible person he was, he didn't deserve such humiliation. He didn't have to restrain Butcher for long; he quickly backed off from the idiot, dialing a number. After a couple of minutes, the leader of The Boys was pacing the room, talking to Raynor in a raised voice.

— What the fuck?! What do you mean the Pentagon classified everything about Compound V?

— Just like that. The appearance of Naqib did its job and supes are now necessary in the army.

— What kind of idiotic name is that?

— It means "Captain" in Arabic.

— They created that bastard themselves, — Butcher protested, feeling the anger boiling inside him. — I even have proof sitting in the basement, in shackles!

— The contract is already signed, Billy. They don't care who you're holding in the basement anymore. Vought is already looking for you with the Feds.

— Are you kidding me!

— I'm sorry, Billy. But you've all been put on a wanted list. Good luck.

— Fuck. — Butcher sighed, realizing there was no more help to be expected.

— Should we bail? — Frenchie's rhetorical question rang out, while Hughie simply couldn't comprehend what had happened. Silence reigned for a while, which their leader decided to break.

— No, we haven't used our ace in the hole yet. — Billy smirked, putting on his eternal black trench coat.

— We don't have an ace in the hole. — Frenchie said resignedly.

— Wait here, I'll call.

Leaving the last word to himself, their leader walked out the door, and a second later, Marvin followed him. It immediately became clear to him that this ace was extremely questionable, even in theory.

— Don't tell me you're going to Stillwell. — MM pleaded with him, catching up at the van.

— I won't.

— And what if she's not his weakness? This is suicide.

— Don't you understand, Marvin? We're already dead. — The bearded Brit replied darkly, climbing into the van.

— You won't call, will you? You'd even die just to spite Homelander.

— Watch those assholes. — He chuckled and drove onto the road, leaving the motel behind.

Marvin watched the van drive away, realizing that this was their last conversation. By tomorrow, Billy Butcher would already be dead.

***

Night — a blissful time for rest and visions. However, the night in the city of Tell Rifaat didn't entail rest for a certain brazen blue-eyed blonde who had found everything too easy lately. And even now, I was looking down, unnoticed by anyone below, hovering above the ground. And there was something to see. A building filled with people who were currently packaging drugs. And soldiers who were sneaking up to the structure to start a raid on them. And this matter would not concern me personally if Compound V hadn't been sent precisely here.

Landing right in front of the operatives, I smiled openly, seeing them aim their automatic rifles at me. My hands went up, showing them that my person posed no danger to them. Naturally, the operatives calmed down, recognizing my bright costume, with the uncomfortable cape stylized as the American flag. Although, they still didn't lower their rifles.

— Good evening, guys, — I waved in greeting, acting as friendly as possible. — I'll handle this myself, if you don't mind. And you can make sure no one runs away.

— Yes, sir. — The apparent leader of their squad nodded.

It seems he had already been warned that The Seven's supes were now aligned with the US Army.

— That's great. I'll be quick.

Floating smoothly up and landing on the roof, I stood at the entrance inside and sighed. Strangely enough, it was difficult to decide how to deal with the criminals. On the one hand, they sell drugs, kill people, and commit evil in general. But on the other hand, no one intends to take them alive, and in the end, they are still doomed to die. But I'm not the punishing hand to decide who dies... yet, I won't interfere with it. Still, first impressions are very important; I wouldn't want to be known as a maniac among the soldiers.

Inhaling, I pushed the door open in front of me, confidently stepping inside. The man who was smoking by the stairs immediately threw away his cigarette butt and looked at me in shock. It took him a couple of seconds to recover and at least start stumbling backward. But it was already too late; a sharp blow to a specific area of the neck knocked him unconscious for at least ten minutes. What can I say? Having X-ray vision is extremely convenient, provided you don't use it incompetently.

Then I descended the stairs just as calmly, seeing everyone below being startled, having heard the sound of the fallen body. For the silence that reigned here before my appearance, it was like a clap of thunder from a clear sky. Therefore, I was not at all surprised that dozens of men grabbed their automatic rifles, starting to shoot at such a conspicuous and convenient target, in the form of me.

— You motherfuckers never learn! — I smiled, trying to shout over the sounds of the gunfire, though not really trying hard. I had no desire to burst their eardrums.

Chapter Text

My eyes flared red, definitely looking extremely ominous from the side. Bullets hitting my body simply flattened and fell to the ground. Vought scientists called this effect a bio-field, and every physically gifted supe had this field, differing only in power.

They didn't know the nature of this phenomenon, but one thing always remained constant: Supes are as resilient as they are physically strong. That is, if a supe can lift tens of tons of mass, not a single person will be able to move him from his spot, nor will any other supe, if the latter is much weaker than him, even if the former stands straight and offers no resistance. Therefore, against Homelander, as the strongest supe in history, and thus against me, no modern weapon worked. Even an atomic bomb would more likely cause an itch than be able to penetrate my body. So, the bullets weren't even felt by the skin, causing boredom. Meanwhile, the terrorists experienced genuine horror at the sight of two bright red dots where my eyes should be.

I yawned, which caused a bullet to hit my mouth, and I spat it out with annoyance, deciding to finish this quickly. Walking confidently toward them, I simply took away their firearms. After that, I neutralized them with the same method as the first one. Unfortunately, these three were not the only people who needed to be... calmed down.

In the end, I stood surrounded by the unconscious bodies of men and women who were engaged in packaging. Now in a calm setting, my eyes scanned the room, illuminating every corner to see a test tube with blue liquid inside one of the boxes. Bingo.

— Captain, I found this, — I said, handing the Compound V to a soldier as I stepped outside. — And yes, there are about thirty unconscious people lying inside. Will you handle it? I’m going.

Handing the Compound V directly into his hands, I nodded to them with a smile and soared into the sky, immediately disappearing from sight. As they say, if you can't beat them, join them. Perhaps that's why, a couple of hours later, I was sitting at a negotiation table with Robert Singer, the US Secretary of Defense. Since I had personally sent Madelyn on vacation for a couple of days, I should take on some of her responsibilities. The bearded old man in horn-rimmed glasses and a respectable suit on his frail body was extremely surprised to see me but didn't show it.

— And where is Miss Stillwell?

— I'm afraid she has pressing matters. I will be in her place for now.

— A superhero?

— Correct, Minister, — I answered confidently, enduring the old man's appraising gaze. — Consider that you are speaking with Miss Stillwell's trusted representative.

— Then let's get straight to business, — Singer nodded, taking the Compound V in his hand. — The Islamic State is not exactly a center of scientific thought. But they made a copy of your Compound V?

— Unfortunately, that is the case.

— How did they obtain the formula?

— We would like to know that ourselves.

— Or perhaps you have a guess, Homelander? Maybe it was some tourist? Or Miss Stillwell...

— Do not test my patience, Singer, — I answered harshly, narrowing my eyes, immediately noticing the old man's unease. — You are not the only one who dislikes what is happening. If it were up to me, everything would have remained in its place.

— Then why did you retrieve this Compound V? Why did you even participate in the operation if you didn't want to? You volunteered yourself.

— Do you know why people used to become heroes, Mr. Singer?

— Enlighten me. — The Minister leaned back in his chair.

— At that time, a decisive and strong-willed person was exalted above the rest, became not a cowering wretch, but earned the right. That is what they called heroes, — I smiled, seeing his interest in a topic familiar to him. — I have always admired such stories, such people who took everything into their own hands. However, their time has passed, and now heroes are chosen by a corporation, a unique one of its kind.

— What is the point of all this?

— The point is that no one can face Naqib and other superhumans except for superheroes. No automatic rifle, grenade, rockets, or other trash can harm them in any way. The time of the old heroes is over, Minister, — I leaned towards him, looking him straight in the eyes. — And it no longer matters how the Compound V fell into the hands of terrorists. What matters is that without Vought and its heroes, you cannot protect this country.

My gaze carefully swept across Robert's face, seeing a shadow of emotions that were as distinct to me as grimaces of pain. He had no choice, and he was perfectly aware of it. And tonight I would have to participate in another event regarding The Seven joining the military. And unfortunately, I didn't have a choice either.

***

Annie watched boredly as very important military officials celebrated the beginning of the army's cooperation with the Vought corporation. People displayed joyful smiles that were thoroughly soaked in hypocrisy. All sorts of men regularly approached her, trying to attract her attention, to charm her. And in every word addressed to her, envy and desire were evident. Only these emotions were not directed at Annie January, but at Starlight. A heroine who emitted a bright light, nothing more.

— What happened? Did one of these old men offend you? — Blue eyes looked at her intently, searching for traces of something only he himself knew.

— No, John, everything is just wonderful. — The girl smiled sincerely, looking at the only person among all those gathered who saw her as just Annie.

— I see something truly wonderful in this hypocritical society right in front of me, and you?

— Are you fishing for a compliment? — Annie replied, trying not to look into those attractive eyes.

— I don't deny it.

— Madelyn looks good today. It's as if she's gotten younger. — The blonde indicated the woman with her gaze, watching his reaction with interest.

— You're cutting me without a knife, Starlight. That was truly painful. — Homelander replied with amusement, comically grabbing his heart. At the same time, his and Stillwell's glances intersected for a second, which looked suspicious at best.

Suddenly, the soft music from the piano was interrupted, drawing his attention. He looked with anticipation towards the musical instrument, and with a glance, drew her attention there as well. Starlight turned intrigued, seeing Black Noir sitting at the piano, who immediately began to play actively. He instantly adopted a quite fast tempo, contrasting with the slow, background music that had been playing before.

— He plays the piano! — Starlight almost exclaimed, looking at John.

— It looks like he's in the mood today.

Annie no longer heard the blonde, concentrating on the music, which seemed to radiate joy, a thirst for life, and a sunny mood. And as if wishing to share this as quickly as possible, she played so rapidly that at moments it turned into an indistinguishable mash. But then she immediately slowed down, seeming to try to show its beauty for the few listeners.

— That was beautiful. — Annie exhaled, even becoming sentimental due to the influence of such short, but wonderful music, played from the heart.

— That's Chopin, the Minute Waltz, to be precise, — John said, drawing her attention back to him. — Unfortunately, it quickly gets boring, in my opinion.

— How can it get boring? And you know about classical music? — The girl was surprised.

— No, of course not. Noir just plays it every time he wants to lighten the mood a bit, — the blonde explained. — It's very hard not to know what your colleague, with whom you've been working for twenty years, is playing. That answers both your questions.

— I already figured that out. — The girl nudged him with her elbow, causing him to even stagger back.

— How far I have fallen, taking hits even from subordinates. — John snorted, feigning to hold the "injured" spot. But then he stopped playing immediately, as if having heard a sharp sound.

His gaze immediately focused on Stillwell's back, who was standing nearby, at a table. And from the spilled drops of champagne on that very table, it was not difficult to determine who the source of the sound was.

— What happened? — Annie asked, concerned, noticing the man's strange behavior.

— Nothing. I just... have to step away for a little bit, — Homelander replied, turning his attention to her. — I'll be quick.

— Don't rush. There are men in uniform walking around here with whom I can certainly pass the time until you return. — Annie smirked, demonstratively scanning the room with her gaze.

— Don't test me, Annie January. I might get jealous. — John smirked in return, heading towards Stillwell.

On the way, he nodded to Maeve, who was habitually surrounded by men, who were swarming around her. He returned his gaze to Stillwell's back, immediately looking right through her. It was obvious that the woman was worried about something, and considering the recent conversation with Stan Edgar, who had finally condescended to dedicate a couple of minutes to the event, the reason for this was something truly significant.

———

— And how is my irreplaceable supervisor feeling? — I asked with interest, standing opposite the woman.

— I'm fine, Homelander, — Stillwell replied, smiling at me. — Thank you for asking.

— Everything is so good that you're practically jumping for joy? — I snorted, glancing at the state of her body.

— You always saw right through people, — the woman sighed, but couldn't hide her smile. — Fine... I was offered something.

— And what is it, if it's not a secret?

— You were supposed to be able to see through anything, — she raised a folded napkin up to her face. — Take a look.

My eyes focused on the raised napkin, instantly seeing right through it. The ink from the pen became clearly visible, outlining numbers... very impressive numbers. And the surprise on my face seemed to be as obvious to the woman as the existence of gravity.

— A raise, — she boasted, pointing to herself. — But corresponding effort will also be required from Miss Stillwell.

— The main thing is that Miss Stillwell does not become arrogant with such achievements. — I chuckled, meeting the woman's cunning gaze.

— Don't worry, Homelander. She won't become arrogant, I'll make sure of it myself. — Madelyn winked at me, picking up a glass of champagne and gently sipping from it.

— Good, if so, — I nodded in response, looking her in the eyes. — I hope the company of these high-ranking individuals isn't wearing on you?

— Not at all, I'll tell you more precisely in thirty minutes. — She smiled, surveying several young officers with a leering gaze.

— Just don't get carried away. — I chuckled, leaving the woman's company.

— I hope you'll grant me a dance? Just one. — She took my elbow, and I didn't much care for that.

I didn't hide my displeasure, furrowing my brows and flashing my eyes at her.

— Take your hand off me.

— Oh, don't get heated, — the woman smiled awkwardly, sharply withdrawing her hand. — I was just asking.

— Know your place. — I spoke through gritted teeth, returning to Starlight, whose company was much more pleasant, personally for me.

— So, that's a no.

It was pointless to say that the event turned out to be very boring. So much so that after an hour, all the important bigwigs were absent, having decided they had more important things to do. And I was extremely in agreement with them on that matter, soon after saying goodbye to all the members of my team who were present at the event. Madelyn left at practically the same time, although she couldn't move faster than the speed of sound. Therefore, she would only reach home an hour later, considering New York's traffic.

My flight lasted less than five minutes, during which I reached my house. The light in the living room was on, and Becca and Ryan were sitting on the couch. Flying into the guest bedroom, I quickly changed into my now completely customary clothes. After that, I descended to the porch to enter through the front door. I think many would agree that it would look extremely suspicious if I came down the stairs from the second floor.

With a barely audible creak of the wooden door, I entered the house again. Standing at the entrance to the living room, I looked at the child who had fallen asleep on Becca's lap. The young mother, however, took the opportunity to run her fingers through her son's thick hair, looking at him with love. A smile naturally appeared on my lips as my eyes witnessed this pleasant scene. But I simply couldn't remain unnoticed, considering how enhanced the girl's senses were. She physically couldn't have failed to hear the door creak, so I had been discovered a couple of minutes ago.

— How was your day? — She asked, raising her head and meeting my gaze.

— Quite good, though it could have been better.

— And what was missing?

— You... — I smiled, seeing how Becca's expression changed. — and Ryan. Lately, I've been away too often.

— Well, you have a lot of things to do. It's natural that you'd be busy, — Becca nodded, glancing at her son. — Ryan waited for you all day.

— And were you waiting for me?

— I... I was waiting with Ryan. That's why he fell aslee-eep. — She yawned at the end of her words.

— It looks like you need it too.

— I need to take him to his bedroom.

— I'll take him. — I picked up the boy, under his mother's skeptical gaze.

— I could have picked him up too.

— You could have, but you're already tired. And I'm full of energy. — I replied confidently to her indignation, carrying the child up the stairs under her same indignant gaze.

— Thank you. — It reached me from behind.

Another day turned out to be stressful, but quite acceptable. After that, I could relax and sleep until tomorrow, where more business awaited me. At least, that's what I thought then.

***

The woman leaned her head against the car window, which was essentially at her disposal for the entire day. However, Madelyn Stillwell only used this privilege in the morning and evening, specifically only to get to work and return home. The woman was simply an incredible workaholic, taking a cue from Stan Edgar. Therefore, even a vacation couldn't last more than a couple of days.

Street lamps flew past her eyes like raindrops, hard to make out due to their speed. And the thirty minutes in traffic before that flew by like pitiful seconds, possibly because of the champagne she had drunk. She couldn't boast about being able to drink a lot and not get drunk, although such a skill would have been very useful to her. Finally, they reached Stillwell's house, and she got out of the car.

— Thank you. — The woman thanked the driver, closing the door behind her.

The driver said nothing and simply drove away, leaving her alone by the road. Snorting with displeasure, she headed towards the house. It did not stand out for its wealthy appearance and was not even the size of some estate that rich people like to buy. To be honest, she even used keys to get inside, not the newfangled electronic locks that are crammed in everywhere and anywhere. The area here was safe, and in general, there was a police station nearby, so she wasn't afraid of anything, convinced of her security.

— Rachel? — She called for the housekeeper and part-time nanny for Teddy, but heard nothing in response.

She frowned, tossing her keys into a special dish and looking around. It seemed too suspicious that Rachel hadn't even warned her that she was planning to leave. That old woman didn't have a habit of spontaneous decisions, it seemed.

— Not me you're looking for? — A dark figure in an armchair responded, placing a pistol on the armrest so that she could clearly see it.

— What do you want? And where is Rachel?

— Sleeping soundly, I wasn't going to harm the old dear, — the bearded man in a black trench coat smirked. — But you... that's a different matter.

The man with a strange British accent got up from the armchair and slowly walked towards her, as if savoring the moment. The woman froze, looking into the visitor's insane eyes. A blow to the head immediately knocked out all thoughts of resistance; it's hard to think about that when your head is splitting from any careless movement. So she didn't try to play the hero, seeing the Brit's size. Soon, she watched in horror as explosives were placed on her, and she was seated in a chair. She was reliably tied to the chair, and her phone was taken away.

— And here comes Homelander, — Butcher smirked, quickly finding the blonde bastard's number. — How fast do you think he'll rush over here?

— I have no idea, — the woman replied with displeasure, feeling the ropes chafing her entire body, especially her wrists. — He's Homelander, he doesn't care about me. I'm nothing to him.

— Don't lie to me! I already know you're lovers. And that he'll rush here like a good little boy.

After that, he dialed the number, hearing the beeps which quickly stopped.

— Hello? What happened? — The voice of the infamous superhero sounded in the receiver.

— Remember me?

— William Butcher, — the blonde replied after a moment of silence. — That accent is hard to forget.

— Unfortunately, Stillwell can't answer you right now.

— Did you kill her?

— We're in her house right now, and for now, she's alive. Hurry up if you want it to stay that way. — Butcher hung up the phone and sat down, looking at her expectantly.

Stillwell stared back silently, and they both awaited Homelander's arrival.

— Do you want to kill yourself against him?

— If I have to, yes. — He gave a confident answer, after which she had nothing to say.

They didn't have to wait long. Just two minutes later, the sounds of heavy footsteps were heard from the second floor, which soon came from the staircase. And then, Homelander himself appeared before them. The blonde looked at the scene with interest, and then stared at Butcher.

— Move one more time, and Stillwell will shatter into tiny pieces, — he raised his hand, which held a makeshift remote for the detonator, and he was already pressing the red button. — If I let go of the button, that's it; even with your speed, you won't have time to do anything.

— What do you want, Butcher? — The blonde sighed, looking at Stillwell.

— You set us up, — Billy frowned. — You set us up so the suspicion would fall on us, not on you.

— That wasn't my goal, William. If you hadn't shown up everywhere you possibly could before, there wouldn't be this situation. — Homelander replied irritably, looking at the Brit disapprovingly.

— You yourself handed us the Compound V, and you're also involved in all this.

— Well, you shouldn't have said that. — The supe rolled his eyes, looking at the woman's shocked expression. — Fine, William, state your ultimatum.

Butcher fell silent and looked at the button he was pressing with his finger, and raising his head, he met Homelander's gaze again. This was a chance that, if it didn't kill this bastard, would at least hurt him. And if it was even half as strong as his own pain after losing Becca, he would be satisfied. Unfortunately, not everything in life is so easily resolved.

— I want all charges dropped against my Boys, and for them to be left alone.

— In exchange for Stillwell's life?

— Not only that, — Butcher looked at him resolutely. — In exchange for my freedom.

— Well, — Homelander nodded, looking at him with respect. — I agree.

An hour later, the police arrived and took the Brit away, who offered no resistance. The bomb was defused by the bomb squad, who quickly finished with it in just thirty minutes. In the end, no one was left in the house except Stillwell herself and Homelander. Even Rachel was taken to the hospital, so they were alone.

— I can't do this anymore. — The woman whined pitifully, suddenly turning into a fat and bald man with a huge nose.

— How utterly disgusting this looks. — Homelander grimaced in disgust.

— I'm sorry, sir. I didn't mean to. — The Doppelganger exhaled, trying to catch his breath. He simply couldn't stay in someone else's guise for too long; it caused him pain. And four hours definitely fell under the definition of "too long."

— What you heard...

— Rest assured, I won't tell anything to anyone, — he interrupted the blonde. — Not even Miss Stillwell will know about it, let alone Stan Edgar!

— Yes, neither of them will know about it, — Homelander nodded, seeing the man's relieved smile. But the steel grip on his neck quickly turned it into a grimace of horror. — Because there will be no one left to tell.

A loud crunch and the man's neck broke, and his eyes glazed over. John looked at the body that fell to the floor with regret on his face, realizing what he had just done. But he also knew for certain that it was necessary.

Chapter Text

A couple of minutes later, I was no longer in Stillwell's house, and the Doppelganger's body was literally turned into ashes by my heat vision. One shouldn't even think about what this power is essentially capable of. No material has yet been found that could not be destroyed under the influence of these lasers. I chuckled, looking at the ashes at my feet, which were rapidly being scattered by the wind.

A heavy sigh escaped me at the thought of what I had to do. From a moral point of view, it certainly qualifies as a very bad deed. Not that these actions were spontaneous—I thought about this for more than ten minutes until everyone had left the house. There were plenty of options without killing, such as intimidation or money. However, the first option is only effective at the beginning, and after that... The second option was much better, but I'm not Midas to constantly hand out incredible sums of money to someone. But Vought is quite capable of that, especially for such valuable information. The Doppelganger was well aware of this, as the corporation is extremely generous with loyal employees. But the deciding factor was the outright lie from the fat supe's mouth; that sealed his fate.

It would have been possible to find a supe who could erase his memory, as happened with the Duplicator. However, the snag in this case was that such supes are extremely rare, and those who do exist are not left without supervision and funding. From the supes known to me, there was only one who could truly pull this off. But as far as I know, Mindstorm really dislikes the company of any living creature that possesses intelligence. And I'm not going to approach a crazy telepath, in any case. So, it turns out that the only right way out was murder. I couldn't risk the people close to me who are constantly under fire right now.

Exhaling, I closed my eyes and sharply flew up into the sky. A short flight and I landed near the hangar where Butcher's captured accomplices were being held. Walking inside, I headed unimpeded towards the prisoners, under the bewildered stares of their guards. But no one stopped me; on the contrary, they let me through, as if that was how it should be. Although, why "as if"? That's exactly how it should be.

The prisoners were before me not in the best shape; sitting in a cage, they looked at me cautiously. All three of them had their hands in handcuffs, but there was enough free space for them to walk calmly. There were no signs of beatings on their bodies, and everyone's health was normal. Probably only their mood was not the best; I would even say it was oppressive.

— Please, leave us. — I asked the guards, and they carried out the request without question. What can I say? I like compliant guys.

My old acquaintances. Hughie Campbell, the skinny guy, and Marvin T. Milk, the muscle who was with Butcher at the hospital. I didn't know the third guy at all. As far as I knew, he was simply among them and hadn't been caught on camera before, unlike the other three. However, a multitude of passports and fake identities suggested that he fit right into their company. Meanwhile, the Black muscle man got up from the floor and looked at me with a question.

— Is it bad news? — He asked, under the confused stares of his comrades.

— Not really, — I answered him, thoughtfully examining them. — You will be released, and today.

— Why would we? — Hughie broke into the conversation, getting up from the floor with a shocked face. His facial expression was quite amusing, in my opinion.

— Because I wanted it that way. — I smiled at them, seeing well-founded shock on their faces. Indeed, why would I try for them?

— There's a catch here, right? — Marvin suggested, and I understood his distrust.

— There's no catch, big guy. We simply concluded an agreement with your leader that obliges me to release you and no longer pursue you. Of course, unless you provoke me yourselves.

— Just like that? They'll just listen to you? — Hughie asked a reasonable question.

— Where else would they go? — I snorted at his words, then looked seriously at the third prisoner. — But even I am not all-powerful before the law, and as you've already understood, this concerns you.

— They're going to jail Frenchie? — Hughie asked anxiously, looking even more worried than the person in question.

— So that's what you call him? A rather trivial nickname for a man with dozens of fake identities.

— I'm Serge. — Frenchie finally introduced himself, getting up from the floor.

— Homelander. — I frowned, not particularly pleased to meet such a person. — You will have only one day. After that... the pursuit will begin for you. That's all I can do, don't hope for more.

— Merci. — He nodded to me.

— So, you're letting us go now? — Hughie asked hopefully.

— There's something else, after this you can go in all four directions, — I chuckled under my breath, scanning them with an attentive gaze. — Where is the Asian girl?

— Just today...

— I let her go. — Serge confessed, interrupting Hughie, and with such a look as if after his words, I would have to tear him to pieces.

— Clear. — I nodded thoughtfully, considering what to do next. — Guys, open the cage and remove their handcuffs.

— But sir...

— Was that a request, in your opinion? — I sharply shifted my gaze to the speaker, frowning. — Open the cage and remove the handcuffs.

— Yes, sir. — The mercenary, whom Vought loved to hire no less than the US Army, obeyed.

— You can go. I hope we don't have to meet again under similar circumstances. — I said with a grim tone, and then escorted the recent prisoners to the exit, before flying off towards the Vought Tower. I needed to hurry.

A couple of minutes and my feet touched the floor of the balcony, and a couple of seconds later I quickly stepped out of the apartment into the hallway. I took the elevator down to the fifty-third floor and walked out into the analytics department, which had access to two satellites that monitored everything from the heavens around the clock. This is not to mention the city cameras, which they also had access to. I immediately headed towards a pretty girl in glasses who was sitting at a computer.

— Hello, Homelander. — The girl was clearly nervous about my presence.

— Good evening, — I smiled at her. — What's your name?

— A-anika.

— Beautiful name.

— Thank you, sir.

— So, Anika. I need your help, and urgently. — I spoke softly, looking at her seriously.

— A... what is needed?

— I need to find a girl. Asian, black hair, short stature, about five feet, — I listed the approximate physical features. — We need to focus on the eastern districts, I need today's footage.

— That might take a lot of time. — Anika replied uncertainly.

— Then bring in your colleagues; finding this girl is the top priority right now. If you succeed, I will pay everyone a bonus of twenty thousand. Get started.

I calmly sat down in a chair, watching all the employees bustle, starting to look for the Asian girl. Exhaling, I closed my eyes and relaxed, waiting for the results. I have a feeling that soon everyone in the analytics department will have twenty thousand more in their wallets. However, I don't mind chipping off a little from my billions; it's not an easy job.

The first results appeared twenty minutes later. They quickly identified the girl who had dropped the bulky shackles on the ground, after which she ran away. But her face had already been recorded, and finding her location took a mere ten minutes. I had to fly out for her the same second, exiting through the window on the floor. After flying to the destination, I landed near an unfinished five-story building.

— Is anyone here? — I asked loudly, ascending to the second floor, where the girl was located.

Going up, I looked around and whistled in surprise. Blood was spilled all over the floor, and the bodies of people who had been gutted like chickens were scattered around. About five people definitely lost their lives here, in a battle with the miniature Asian girl. Judging by the smell of blood—drug addicts. Syringes scattered on the floor also hinted at this, but I was more accustomed to trusting my keen sense of smell. Chuckling, I shifted my gaze to the girl, who was cautiously frozen in one pose.

She stood in the corner, slightly hunched over, as if preparing to attack. This greatly resembled Becca's ability, with her instincts, only in the Asian girl's case, it was something more feral. Her hair was disheveled, her clothes were dirty, she was covered in blood, and she didn't even have shoes on her feet. However, the girl's current appearance seemed very authentic, considering her animalistic habits.

I didn't have time to utter a single word before she lunged at me. Strong hands grabbed my head and tried to twist my neck, but without success. Next came attempts to scratch my face, and then gouge out my eyes. But everything invariably ended in failure. At some point, there was no trace of hostility left on her part, only curiosity, with which she tried to harm me. It got to the point where the girl simply broke her fingers against me and was greatly shocked by it. Although her wounds healed very quickly, the mere fact that this happened caused her to go into a stupor. And yes, she didn't even squeak the entire time.

— What, first time? You'll get used to it, — I smiled at her, showing off my perfectly white teeth. — My name is John. Nice to meet you, mute.

Chapter Text

Letting out a quiet sigh, I look at the people gathered in the hall. No one makes an unnecessary sound, awaiting my words with trepidation. The light of the lamps illuminates my figure, dressed in a blue superhero suit, with a relatively uncomfortable cape on my back. There is regret on my face, with which I occasionally glance at the glass coffin, where Translucent's body supposedly lies. The real body, or rather the remains, are currently on the sixty-seventh floor, in the laboratory. Vought was not about to deny itself the potential discoveries that a superhero's corpse might offer. My face twisted slightly in disgust, though I tried not to show my true emotions. But it was time to start; the cameras have been filming for a while, and it is a live broadcast.

— I want to inform the people of America that Black Noir carried out a special operation and neutralized the super-villain known as Naqib, — I finally pronounce, lifting my head. Those sitting in the hall started clapping but stopped as soon as I raised my hand, calling for silence. — Unfortunately, this does not mean that there will be no more victims. And the proof, as sad as it is, is before us. Today we mourn a fallen member of The Seven — Translucent.

I slowly look over the faces of the viewers of this production, observing their emotions. Among them are those who are truly grieving, like the teenager, the son of the superhero who died not the most dignified death. And some came here just to look at me and the rest of the team. Well, what can I say? Any whim for the client's money, since they paid so much for the ticket. Yes, for being present at this ridiculous show, which by an equally absurd mistake is called a memorial service, they paid a lot of money. Only the deceased's relatives, of whom there were only a couple of people, avoided this.

— Translucent was coldly murdered by a cartel super-villain nicknamed El Diablo. As he was leaving, Translucent told me, as if he felt it: “Homelander, if anything happens, tell my son Maverick that I love him.” And he added: “Find those super-villains and stop them!” — I said emphatically, watching the audience's reaction as I approached the coffin. — And I promise you, Maverick, and all the sons and daughters of our great nation, that I will stop them. For you, for America... — I touched the coffin with my hand, sorrow on my face. — And for a dear, old friend. Goodbye my brother, and thank you.

I bowed my head, closed my eyes, waiting for the stage to darken and the music to begin. After that, I left the stage, drawing attention to Starlight, who began singing a rather soulful song that was sure to move the audience. This was aided by the beautiful voice of the girl, who had been singing in various competitions since early childhood. Her mother dragged her to various clubs, as Annie explained to me later. This song will be promoted very actively, so much so that no radio station will do without it. Madelyn is hoping for a Grammy, which she wants to use to solidify their success.

After the performance, Annie and I went out to the common people who were crowded behind the fence, waiting for Homelander and Starlight. They did not have enough money to get inside. I approached them with a smile and gave my autograph to a few lucky people, even hugging a crying Translucent fan. And all this was being filmed by the camera while the man showed off his acting talent. Yes, nothing happens by chance; everything is already paid for and planned in advance. Vought plans to make a good profit on the surge in sales of various merchandise, utilizing the situation to the fullest. And the forecasts are extremely optimistic.

After finishing our interaction with the fans, Starlight and I held hands and approached David, a reporter. He was the only reporter at this event, as the higher-ups decided that would be better. Naturally, David worked for Vought News, and nothing extra, much less compromising, would leak onto TV screens.

— Homelander, Starlight, — the reporter nodded, holding the microphone up to us. — How's everything holding up back at the tower?

— I won't lie; it's very tough on us. Truly.

— But he's a rock, — Starlight chimed in. — He gathered us and told us that we're more than a team; we're family, and we have to stick together.

— Thank you for the kind words, Starlight.

— Thank you, I don't even know what we'd do without you. — She replies, exactly as we rehearsed.

— Isn't she a sweetheart? — I ask him, taking her by the waist.

Next were questions on unrelated topics, praise for Annie for the song. Questions about the well-being of A-Train, who hadn't appeared in public for two weeks. Fortunately, Reggie's health is improving. He even started training, taking up running. Soon he'll start pulling a whole train again, as he did several years ago. I was confident in his success in getting back into shape.

Finishing the interview, we headed to the car that drove us to Vought Tower. Starlight said goodbye to me to rest, and I went to Stillwell. All these rehearsals before the appearance, how everything would be staged, the cosmetic changes to the text took a lot of time. And having started for us at eight in the evening, they only finished at ten in the morning, or rather, right now. I can go almost a week without sleep without inconvenience, but Annie is much less resilient in this regard.

— Good morning. You look wonderful today, Madelyn. — I say to the woman standing right in front of me when the elevator doors open.

— Good morning, Homelander, — she replies with a smile, stepping inside the car and pressing one of the buttons. — We need to go down.

— On what matter? — I ask her, recalling that she had often been interested in Homelander's opinion before... and not only that. I suspect that this is exactly the moment when I am being placated with the idea that I, too, will have to contribute to the common cause. This is very much Stillwell's style.

— We are choosing how we will advertise our cooperation with the US Army. A focus group will help us with this. I think you'll find this interesting.

— Clear. — I answer her without much enthusiasm, which she clearly noticed but did not comment on.

The elevator stops on the required floor, and we exit the car. We walk down the corridor for less than a minute to enter a room with glass, through which we can see and hear what is happening in the next room. Gathered there were men and women, approximately thirty to forty years old. And in front of them was a company employee whose goal was to offer various names and slogans, asking about what the gathered people felt.

— So, how about this phrase? — She points to "Super-Terrorist" on the board.

— Terrible. — One of the women responds, raising her hand.

— Why so?

— It's very scary, and it makes me want to hide. It makes me anxious.

— I see, and Super-Villain?

— That's more optimistic. It sounds more exotic. — The woman nods.

— It's just as I predicted, — Madelyn smiles, turning to me. — And you didn't agree with me.

— And yet, the term "Super-Terrorist" sounds more official and less silly. — I counter her. We're not in a damn comic book to call criminals villains. It's just a kindergarten, honestly.

— Are you forgetting the audience we are working for, John? — Stillwell replies softly, remembering my name. — Teenagers don't like formality; they are more drawn to something light and unburdening. They don't want to think about the reality you're offering.

— Fine. — I sigh, not understanding why I am even here if my opinion is not going to be taken into account. — But I don't see any teenagers among them.

— Because these are the people who will be giving money to those very teenagers for movies and various merchandise. — Madelyn smirks.

— Now let's move on to the posters, — the woman indicated two prepared posters. — Which do you prefer? Save America?

None of the focus group participants raised their hands, and it seemed they didn't really like this poster. Too patriotic?

— I see. What about... Save the World? — The woman is surprised to see everyone raise their hands. — Unanimous.

— Interesting, from whom?

— From super-villains, — Madelyn answers me confidently, having heard my words. — The Seven will save the world from them!

— As you say. However, as far as I know, there are only six of us on the team right now. — I remind her of the circumstances.

— I remember that, Homelander, — Madelyn nods, sighing softly. — And the problem is practically solved.

— Really? And where is the list of candidates? — I am surprised by what the woman said.

— There won't be a list of contenders this time, — she replies, and decides to add for emphasis: — Stan Edgar wanted it that way.

— Oh, since Stan Edgar himself wanted it that way, maybe I should bring him slippers, like a stupid dog? — I look at her irritably.

— Don't exaggerate. If the candidate doesn't suit you, I will provide you with a list of other candidates, — she decides to find a compromise in this situation. — But I assure you, you'll like her.

— So it's a female superhero? — I become interested in her words. This is intriguing.

— Correct. And she is very strong, and she also flies, — she lists the pros of the potential newcomer. — Well, do you agree?

— I agree, I'll take a look at her. When can I see her?

— The day after tomorrow.

— Understood. Well, I won't disturb you.

— We are almost finished, — Madelyn smiled. — Get some good rest before tomorrow's shoot; I will send the script.

— Absolutely, — I smiled thinly at her. — I look forward to it.

Leaving the room, I sighed with relief, heading to the elevator. These ten minutes tired me more than ten hours of work on Translucent's memorial. This is definitely not for me. I wonder what Becca made for lunch? Although, why guess? It's better to find out in person. I smile at my thoughts, anticipating a hearty, and most importantly, delicious home-cooked meal. I need to hurry before I start salivating from anticipation.

Chapter Text

Slowly opening my eyes, I yawn deeply, feeling my mouth dry. Blinking a few times, I sit up and take the glass and carafe. Water fills the glass, is quickly drained, and is refilled again. This repeats a couple of times. Although I had the thought of drinking the water directly from the carafe, I'm not in such a hurry to resort to such extremes. Setting the carafe and glass on the nightstand, I finally get up and head to the bathroom.

The cold shower washes away the remnants of my sleepiness, managing to invigorate me a little. I yawn deeply again, looking at my disheveled hair in the mirror, and my overall appearance. Once again, I am convinced that this is not some psychedelic dream invented by my mind, looking into my bright blue eyes. Chuckling, I take my toothbrush and begin to clean my teeth thoroughly. No, I could certainly rely on my invulnerability for healthy teeth, but I am more accustomed to fresh breath.

Having finished with that, I glance at my reflection again, only to leave the bathroom a second later. Putting on a robe over my bare body, I enter the study and sit down at the desk. I open the laptop and turn it on with a sigh, after which I begin to read the news, which, frankly, does not make me optimistic.

This was expected, given that Vought International, formerly known as Vought American, an American multi-billion dollar superhero entertainment conglomerate, had signed a contract with the US military forces for The Seven to serve in it. Naturally, this caused an active uproar in society. Representatives of various countries expressed negative opinions about what was happening, saying that the US was forcing them to take extreme measures. Everything was just as I had predicted.

However, no actions are being observed, although there is no shortage of indignation from the likes of Russia. A completely predictable reaction, considering Homelander, who can simply detonate the Government House of the Russian Federation with a targeted strike if given the order. And nothing can shoot him down, nor can he be harmed in any way, given the lack of supes in Russia. The people in power are simply afraid for their lives, realizing how easily they can be taken. Therefore, everything has been relatively quiet these last few days.

But this won't be the end of it, I was sure of that. I very much doubt that the government hasn't concerned itself with having its own supe. On the contrary, I am practically certain that there is already a program for creating supes. Knowing that the Americans succeeded, they simply couldn't help but try to repeat their success. This means that we should soon expect the birth of some superhero team or at least one supe from Russia. We should also not forget about other countries, such as China and North Korea. Based on how it was with nuclear weapons, it can be said with certainty that the emergence of supes in those countries is inevitable. The main question: Will they be as strong as Homelander? That's unlikely.

The situation is nerve-wracking, but there is hope for stability. Getting involved in a war was not in my plans yet, and I hope it won't be. And besides, I'm too old for all this shit. It's time to stop reading every article on this topic just to avoid going crazy. In my situation, this is a very bad outcome of events, personally for me and generally for the whole world. Sighing, I turn off the laptop and get up from the desk, heading to the bedroom.

I open the closet, seeing the familiar sight of a set of superhero costumes. Everything is so bright and patriotic that it makes my eyes hurt. Sighing, I take one out and slowly put it on. Before finally leaving, my gaze catches the naked blonde lying in my bed. Last night was very fruitful, with Annie participating. Very fruitful, although I wouldn't mind a second round. Chuckling, I continue on my way, jumping off the balcony after a moment to rapidly soar upwards.

The film set was relatively close, although not in the city center, but that was not a problem for me. I arrived just in time for the start of the shoot, heading straight for the makeup artist. Everything was already ready here; all that remained was to film everything necessary. Sitting down in the chair, I patiently waited for the makeup artists to do their work. The script had already been read and was in my head, so the filming should go quickly, considering it was just an advertisement for supes in the military.

— I thought you'd be late, — Maeve sat down next to me, crossing her legs. — How was your evening?

— Very good.

— It shows, — the beauty smirked, giving me a very telling look. — Tonight also promises to be... good.

— You think so?

— I'm sure of it. — The Queen winked at me, giving me an intimate look, examining my body.

I also indulged in the aesthetic pleasure of looking at my interlocutor's legs. Yes, we have some strange relationship developing. Friends with benefits, that's probably good, considering how pleasant the process itself is. But propriety should not be forgotten; this simply cannot continue for long. We both understand this, and maybe that's why we let loose so much in bed, and not only there. After a while, the director called us, and the filming began. I sighed quietly, and yet I still had to attend the premiere of the movie about Tek Knight, as Madelyn said.

— Hello, you know who we are, but meet a new hero, — Maeve said, walking towards the camera with a Black soldier (this is important) in the middle, and me to the side of him. She stopped, touching the soldier's back. — This is — Lance Corporal Dan Viller.

— Dan and other brave Marines of the Second Battalion are helping to keep you safe from the threat of super-villains. — I continued after her, looking at the camera.

— We are proud to serve alongside them, and now we need your help.

— That's right, Maeve. In our new initiative — "Save the World". — I nodded emphatically at her words, feeling myself dying of shame after the words I pronounced. Fortunately, after this, the general shot was completed; next, we had to work as talking heads.

But for some reason, a clearly unauthorized person was present on the set, considering that for the next three hours it was supposed to be just us. The person who arrived was clearly one of the supes, which was clear from her suit. It was dark red and also had a cape. Only not like Starlight's, but quite a full one, like mine. This suggested that she could fly. Her face was pretty, but nothing more. Black hair, with one side shaved. She looked modern and behaved accordingly. Arrogant.

— The base here is fake. Next thing you know, Homelander and Maeve will be eating MREs and pissing in a ditch, like all the infantry. — The woman said with a smile, looking at her smartphone screen, ignoring the glances directed at her.

— Well, hello. — I greeted the troublemaker, who hadn't bothered to express her thoughts more quietly during the filming. Maeve followed me, also interested in her.

— Oh my God, hi! — She replied enthusiastically, turning her front-facing camera on me so her viewers could see me. — My grandma's a fan of yours, and I'm Stormfront.

— Clear.

— From Seattle, right? — Maeve asked.

— From Portland, actually, your... highness, — Stormfront replied dismissively, smiling at her, and then looked me in the eyes. — Holy shit, your eyes are really blue up close.

— And yours are black, and I noticed that even when you were just walking up here, Stormfront, — I frowned, looking back. — What brings you to us? I hope it's not some kind of foolishness? You shouldn't waste people's time on trifles.

— Are you always such a bore? It's one thing on screen, but here it is in real life too. — Stormfront smirked, still looking at me intently.

— Get to the point.

— As you wish, — the brunette sighed. — I was just sent to meet people, the guys from Vought told me. I'm new.

— Wait, what are you talking about? — Maeve asked, not understanding what was happening.

But I had a hunch.

— Oops! — Stormfront looked at us with feigned surprise, and then waved her hand, as if saying hello again. — Hi, I'm from The Seven, replacing Translucent. Rest in peace.

Maeve even opened her mouth in surprise, bewilderedly watching this arrogant lady and my reaction. After all, everyone in The Seven knows that I am the one who decides who joins the team and who leaves it.

— The contract is just signed, but yes, I'm already on duty. Give me five. — She raised her hand towards Maeve. But Maeve still couldn't process what was happening in her head.

— And who sent you to bring us this good news? — I ask her with a smile, feeling annoyed that I had not been notified of this.

— Hmm... Mr. Edgar, I think. — She pretended to think before answering.

This caused even more annoyance, also because Stormfront was trying to pass herself off as someone else in my presence. She was doing a good job of pretending to be a tomboy and "one of the guys," but not for me. It wasn't just for nothing that Stan Edgar sent her here, and it wasn't for nothing that he made her a member of the team. Even her behavior eloquently hinted that they wanted to teach me a lesson by giving me an uncontrollable bitch who would clearly dispute my leadership of the team.

— Oh, so Stan was quick about it? Interesting, — I smiled, remembering that unflappable Black man. But no matter how much he impressed me with that, I couldn't let him get away with this. — But it's not that simple, Stormfront. You can't just join the team.

— Really? I thought I could. — She replied with a smile, pointing the camera at my unperturbed face.

— What you think doesn't matter. You're not in The Seven yet, at least not the easy way. — I chuckled at her words, looking more intently at her body. It couldn't be called ideal, but it was a pretty good physique.

— So, the CEO's words no longer have any power? — Stormfront asked, bewildered, actively demonstrating her emotions to the viewers.

— You are thinking correctly, — I nodded to her, genuinely surprising her this time. — The Seven is my team, and I am the one who decides who will be in it and who should not even dream about it. And unfortunately, I didn't approve you.

— So, should I leave now?

— You can forget about a spot in The Seven now.

I turned around and quietly walked back, only to hear a shout full of indignation from behind me a second later.

— Since when can a hired employee challenge the boss's decision?! Who do you think you are?

I froze, without turning back.

— You want to challenge my decision, Stormfront? — The words rang out in complete silence.

— I really do. — She replied enthusiastically.

Only after that did I turn in her direction, looking her straight in the eyes.

— Well, you can get into The Seven the short way. Since I don't know your potential and your abilities, I'll have to rely on the most effective option, — I approached her to arm's length. — If you can hit me three times, you're in The Seven.

— Just like that? — Stormfront replied distrustfully.

— There was also the option of fighting Maeve, but I wouldn't want her to accidentally kill you. And she has a heavy hand.

— Okay, let's start your "test," — the brunette replied irritably and handed her smartphone to Maeve. — Hold this, please.

Immediately after this, she released purple lightning from her hands without warning. They could definitely throw back the target they hit, not just scorch their insides. Not bad power. Chuckling at such a dirty trick, I simply walked up to her and sharply pushed her with my hands. The force of the push was so great that she flew back at least four meters, sweeping the dusty ground with her body.

— What a dirty trick, Stormfront. Do all the heroes in Portland do the same? — I approached the woman getting up from the ground with a smile and waited until she was back on her feet.

However, instead of an answer to my question, I was hit by lightning in the face again. And while there was absolutely no harm to my body from it, the flashes in front of my eyes were annoying.

— You've become so quiet. — I chuckled and just, without ceremony, slapped her.

This time the arrogant girl almost broke her head through the wall, but left a crack on it. She was not going to tolerate such treatment, and her eyes even turned black with anger. The lightning bolts this time were much more powerful, but still couldn't boast effectiveness against me. And yes, I let her. Maybe I should have gone into conflict against Edgar on this matter, but I was simply too lazy to do such a foolish thing. It's unknown what he would come up with after that, but in this case, I know who to expect surprises from.

— Well, are you satisfied? — Stormfront exhaled, awaiting my decision.

— It could have been worse, — I chuckled in response and turned back. — You start work tomorrow; be in the conference room at six in the morning. And now, don't interfere with people doing their work, and go do something useful yourself.

Waving my hand, I took the smartphone from Maeve and simply tossed it to Stormfront, who had enough reaction to catch her device. We'll see how the newcomer performs tomorrow, but today I should visit Stan and clarify some issues.

Chapter Text

The cabinet doors opened abruptly, letting me, confidently walking inside, in. The secretary's assurances did not particularly help to stop the locomotive that was me, and this visit came as a complete surprise to Stan Edgar. He was just watching some broadcast showing Victoria Neuman. She was a congresswoman who openly spoke out against Vought's initiative. An interesting person whose actions should still be monitored, knowing about the positive response among the population.

— Keeping your finger on the pulse, Stan? — I asked with a smile, looking at the completely calm man.

— I have to, — he answered briefly, lowering the TV volume to a minimum. — What brings you here?

— A question, of course.

— Well, if so, ask away. — He waved his hand at the secretary, who nodded and went out the door.

— Who is the leader of The Seven, Stan? Enlighten me.

— As far as I know, he is standing in front of me. — The unflappable Black bastard replied.

— Oh, really? — I feigned surprise at his words, looking intently into his eyes. — I thought you had taken that post today. Which undoubtedly, even sounds... ridiculous.

— If you're concerned about Stormfront's appointment to The Seven, it is not up for discussion, — Mr. Edgar stunned me, realizing where the conversation was going. — Any more questions?

— I'm not concerned about Stormfront; that's not important at all, — I shook my head, looking into the calm eyes of the "boss". — What is really important is your interference in the affairs of my team.

— Your team? — He raised an eyebrow, looking at me with a gaze as if he saw a small child in me. — I wouldn't want to upset you, but The Seven belongs to the Vought corporation, and no one else.

— I'm aware of that, — I sighed softly, seeing the reflection of my blue eyes in the CEO's glasses, with red flashes noticeable in their depth. — But there's a catch here, which is that you yourself agreed that the team is mine. Quite recently, as I recall. Does your word really have no power?

— I don't complain about my memory, just as you don't. And note, I personally have not violated our agreement. You are still doing your business, and I am doing mine. No member of your team was forced into anything. Correct? — Edgar waited for a nod from me and continued. — Adding a new member to the team is not interference that should have caused your indignation. We had to rush the selection, as circumstances dictated their terms.

— Well, enlighten me. What prompted you to hurry so much?

— Money, — Stan shrugged, taking off his glasses. — Translucent's death hit us hard, in terms of stock, for sure. You didn't think that the sudden death of a member of the strongest superhero team wouldn't affect Vought at all, did you?

I had no answer to this question, as the CEO's words had a very understandable logic.

— We are now doing everything to minimize the damage and even profit from it. Stormfront was supposed to show that The Seven is still in operation. As far as I know, she is strong enough to meet your criteria.

— You could have at least warned me... in advance. — I sigh, accepting the fact that the interlocutor was right.

— I already informed Miss Stillwell that Stormfront will be accepted into The Seven starting tomorrow. — He looked at me with confusion.

— Then why did she come to the set to "say hello" to us? She said it was your decision.

— I suppose that was her personal initiative, — Edgar chuckled, wiping his glasses with a cloth and putting them on. — As far as I know, you have already managed to teach her a lesson for that self-will. The reaction of the public is another matter. I think you should discuss this point with Miss Stillwell.

— Yes, I should. — I nodded, agreeing with him. Without saying anything more, I turned and headed for the exit.

— Goodbye, John. — I heard his voice behind my back, but did not reply. He can do without it.

Entering the elevator, I thought about today and how what happened would reflect on the future. As far as I remember, feminism and other dubious social movements that advocate for equality also reign here in America. However, for some reason, the "oppressed" in this movement want to be much more equal than the "oppressors". As Marcus Tullius Cicero said: "A slave does not dream of freedom, a slave dreams of his own slaves." As for me, the same situation was happening here.

If the surrounding world denied a person the opportunity to independently choose values and be free from early childhood, then they reciprocate in kind. They take revenge for their helplessness. If a person was limited in their freedom of action since childhood, all they dream of is having the ability to limit the freedom of action of others. In fact, there is no talk of equality here; the talk is about being superior and taking the place of the former "oppressors". Lovely.

— They're going to tear me a new one. — I made a verdict from my thoughts and sighed, taking it as a given. If there's one thing the Homelander experience taught me, it's that people's memories are surprisingly short. In any case, everything will settle down soon.

The elevator stopped on my floor, and I exited the car. After taking just a couple of steps down the corridor, I found myself in front of a very ordinary door, which I opened with a key card. It was so dark inside that an ordinary person's eyes would have to take at least a minute to adjust to it. Sighing, I simply illuminated everything with my X-ray vision, then closed the door behind me and continued on my way. This time, I stood in front of another door, but this one was broken down by someone strong enough. Given that the owner of these apartments was Homelander, it's easy to assume who had such a brilliant idea. And I had a candidate for that, even two.

I quietly walked inside and headed straight for the living room, where the TV was turned on. Only, no one was sitting in front of it on the sofa. Shrugging, I decided to sit down on one side myself and leaned back relaxed. The screen showed a program demonstrating the life of different inhabitants of our planet. Sharks, for example; that was what was being discussed. The ocean was shown as an extremely mysterious place, with a lot of the unknown. I wonder what The Deep would say about this? For him, there is absolutely nothing unknown there, that's for sure.

— Very unexpected, Kimiko. — I commented sluggishly, feeling someone trying to twist my neck. A unique greeting, from her.

After my words, the feral girl stopped trying to twist my neck and switched to, objectively, a simpler way of causing me physical harm. But no matter how hard she tried, she wasn't particularly successful in pulling out my hair. Only I myself can succeed in this, and of course, Maeve. Although cutting it was easier, even though the blades dull extremely quickly.

— How was your day? — I asked her, when she sat down on the couch, not expecting an answer from her.

Kimiko shrugged, continuing to draw on the sheets. As I understood it, it was a shark. Unfortunately, she couldn't talk, not because she didn't want to, but because she couldn't. Only this ailment was not physical, but rather psychological. So we only found out her name through a telepath, Mesmer. He was the closest to the tower at the time and could find out a lot through touch, which gave me a lot of information about the girl. Including the fact that she is essentially a terrorist, which I already knew. And that her former employers had a brother — Kenji.

It was unclear what to do with her. In the end, I decided to keep her, as she wasn't eager to cause any mayhem. The team was initially wary of her, but now they have gotten used to her presence. She was housed across from my apartments, so she often drops by to see me, for reasons unknown. She doesn't have any feelings for me; she's even a little afraid. So the logic of her behavior remained a mystery to me.

— Why did you break the door? Again. — I looked with interest at this insolent person, who froze after my words and looked at the key card on the coffee table.

She turned her head towards me and lowered her eyes, like a guilty child. And if we talk about her pretty face, the effect was devastating. She has started using this forbidden move too often. It's only unclear who she picked it up from. Still, I shouldn't have left her alone with Annie and Maeve; they even taught her how to put on makeup. They are a bad influence on her.

— Let me guess. You forgot your key card here, and that's why you broke down the door, — she cautiously nodded, eliciting a resigned sigh from me. — I'll have to change the door; don't forget the card again.

The answer I got was an energetic nod with a smile, which brought one to my face as well. It was hard to be angry with Kimiko, perhaps also because I felt responsible for her. Well, the offense wasn't that significant; at least she didn't injure or kill anyone. I feel like these women are just wrapping me around their little fingers! And I can't resist. Perhaps the matter is also that their requests were not so great.

The next hour passed in peaceful silence, which I only occasionally interrupted. We managed to finish watching the shark film; I looked at her drawings and how she was learning the alphabet. As the ladies who spent the most time with her concluded, it would be good for her to learn to write in English to be able to communicate with people. I didn't object to this and now periodically help her in mastering the language. So far, it's going well.

And then I flew out of the balcony, leaving Vought Tower at high speed. In about ten minutes, I reached my house in the woods, silently entering the guest bedroom and changing my clothes. After which, as always before, I went downstairs and entered through the door. I should stop these games and finally admit to Ryan who I work as and start his training. I need to stop putting off such an important thing.

— Becca, Ryan, enjoy your meal. — I entered the kitchen with a smile, where they had already started lunch.

— En español. — Becca looked at me with playful strictness, while Ryan watched with a smile.

— Lo siento, lo olvidé, — I apologized to her and repeated my wish in Spanish. — Buen provecho.

— Gracias. — They both replied to me, looking at me with a smile.

Shaking my head at such an arrogant mockery of the strongest being on the planet, I sat down at the table, where a separate plate had been prepared for me. Although I think I mentioned that I probably wouldn't come. Even though it's a small thing, it made me feel good.

— ¿Calentar? — She asked me.

— No, puedo hacerlo yo mismo. — I refused to reheat the slightly cooled food, winking at her with a smile.

Becca rolled her eyes at my behavior and poured cold milk into a glass, to which I nodded gratefully. All in all, things are going well for me, unlike how it was before. Without that oppressive feeling of loneliness that Homelander constantly felt. For a moment, I even became curious: how would he cope with the situations that arose here? Although, I shouldn't spoil my mood with what hasn't happened and won't happen. I could spoil my appetite that way, which would be unacceptable because such neglect of her cooking might upset Becca. So, I turn off my brain and enjoy the food, not forgetting to praise the chef.

Chapter Text

Stormfront sat discontentedly at the large table, stylized in the shape of a "V". She frowned, looking at the iron gate, which was currently closed. Sparks of purple lightning ran across her fingers, showing the woman's strong irritation. She had to drag herself here first thing in the morning and now wait, for a whole hour, like an obedient little dog. She definitely did not imagine her first workday this way.

Finally, the doors opened, and The Deep walked in, after only an hour of waiting. Big deal? Chuckling at her not-so-cheerful thoughts, she examined the newcomer from head to toe. A pretty boy in a green, tight-fitting suit, stylized like a little fish. This sight caused her despondency and outright disgust. He has absolutely no opinion of his own or simple dignity; even the new girl looks better against this background. Yes, Soldier Boy would grind a rooster like that to dust and piss on his remains.

— Hey, you're the newbie, right? You're kind of early, — her teammate smiled at her, sitting down in one of the chairs. — And you're sitting in the wrong place.

— Really? — Stormfront feigned surprise.

— Yeah, you sat in Maeve's spot. Better move so there won't be any problems, — The Deep advised, pointing to another chair, the third one. — Better sit there; it's free.

— And why can't I sit next to it? — She asked, sitting down in the chair right at the edge of the table.

— Starlight sits there, next to Maeve.

— I see. — Stormfront nods with understanding and, taking her smartphone out of her bag, buries her face in it to preclude the possibility of further conversation.

Yesterday was extremely lousy, but it fit perfectly into her plans. Although getting slapped in the face was humiliating, it was necessary. Seeing the scandal unfolding right before her eyes, the brunette smiled. Homelander's psychological profile indicated that he is simply dependent on universal adoration, and the deprivation of this important element will greatly depress him. Of course, he will publicly apologize, but that won't work. And then he will come to her himself, and she will graciously show him the way to win back the people's love, easily gaining the trust of the strongest supe in the world. She just needs to wait.

Soon the remaining team members arrived, excluding A-Train and Homelander himself. The first one is understandable; he is probably still in rehabilitation after the battle with the "super-villain". But the absence of the second was strange. The next five minutes dragged on endlessly for Stormfront, perhaps due to impatience. None of the newcomers rushed to strike up a conversation with her, though no, Starlight tried, but was unsuccessful in the attempt.

— Good morning. It looks like everyone is here, — their leader walked into the room and went to his chair. — Let's start our meeting, and immediately with important news. As you know, we have a new addition to The Seven. Meet Stormfront. You can talk more later, but now let's continue.

Without letting her say anything in response, Homelander began to ask each member of the team about their successes this week and asked about any complaints they might have. It looked much duller than she remembered the meetings of Payback being. In addition to the verbal humiliation of his team by Soldier Boy, there were frequent fights, although it would be more appropriate to call it a beating. Stormfront looked at Black Noir, who was sitting on the right hand of his new leader.

She wondered how he felt under the patronage of the son of the one who turned his Black face into a mess year after year? He couldn't not know about it. This meant that this masochist simply enjoyed licking the boots of the strongest supes. He probably masturbates to pictures of Homelander at night. Chuckling at her own thoughts, Stormfront smiles at this pathetic bastard.

— Wait, Starlight. Did I say something funny, Stormfront? — The blonde asked in a tone that boded no good, interrupting Starlight.

— Oh, no. I was just thinking; it won't happen again. Sorry, sir. — She raised her hands as a sign of reconciliation.

— Good, if you're not interested, I give you permission to leave here until the end of the meeting.

The words spoken in a soft tone caused her irritation, by the very fact that she was addressed like a foolish child. And those expectant glances, like vultures circling over a supposed corpse. And that Black guy who also joined them.

— No, I'll stay. — The brunette answered with a firm voice, looking him in the eyes.

— Then I ask you not to laugh at your colleague's words. You are not here for one day, but for three whole years. And positive relations with the team, in this situation, are an important thing. I hope we understand each other?

— Understood.

— That's great. Starlight, you can continue.

— I wanted to discuss what role I will play in the... army? — The blonde continued uncertainly, voicing her question.

— If you're asking if you'll be involved in military operations, then no. At least, not right now. If you want, I can talk to Madelyn about it.

— No, quite the opposite. I wouldn't want to participate in this, or only participate minimally. This doesn't quite align with the message I promote.

— "She should have just said she was scared. That would have been more honest." — Stormfront thought, but did not say it out loud. It was better to refrain from such comments so as not to turn the entire team against herself. These are not the losers from Payback; they can certainly give her a very hard time.

— I see. You don't have to worry about that; nothing like that is planned yet, — Homelander replied to her and turned to the newcomer. — And now let's move on to you, Stormfront.

— I'm all ears. — She replies readily.

— You must apologize to me and the Vought corporation for your inappropriate behavior. Publicly.

— Why would I? — The brunette looked at him in surprise; she hadn't expected such audacity.

— I found out that there was no order from the management, and you acted in your personal interest, — Homelander continued unflappably, answering the newcomer's question. — You trespassed onto the filming territory, discrediting the advertising campaign that cost over a hundred million. You provoked me into responding, which the public perceived as the beating of a woman. Which was not the case.

The listeners expressed various emotions on their faces, among which shock, which they felt from their leader's words, was the most prevalent. Not to mention the newcomer, for whom this was no less, and perhaps even more, of a shock. But that didn't prevent her from pulling herself together in the shortest possible time.

— It wasn't? I understand you're good at running your mouth, but you can't deceive the camera. — Stormfront replied insolently.

— Refuse this generous offer, which will solve all the problems caused by your fault, and you will be fired, — the blonde stated flatly, without reacting to her words. — I will gladly help you with this by escorting you to the exit. Then you will answer for your misconduct in court.

— And how do you imagine that? I'll sit in front of the camera and beg for forgiveness for my own beating?

— Yes, that's exactly how I imagine it. — Homelander smirked, no longer maintaining an unperturbed expression.

Stormfront clenched her jaw, feeling something she had forgotten about over the decades — helplessness. This admission would definitely just extinguish the fire that was supposed to make the blonde acknowledge her. And refusing here won't work. This is not Stan Edgar, whom she could visit at home and "have some fun" with. Lest something similar happen to her, it wouldn't be difficult for this blonde to arrange such a thing. She had seen the results of his amusements.

— When do we start? — Stormfront replied resignedly, accepting the team leader's terms.

— Today, in about an hour. — Homelander said readily, assuring her that he had no doubt about the answer.

–——
I look at the cameras, raising my head and standing in one of the standard poses. Flash, another one, and a couple more. Then another pose and flashes again. Stormfront is also working hard nearby, obligingly turning to the photographers and showing the lightning she can shoot from her fingers. Admiring gasps and the sound of more camera flashes are heard. That certainly wouldn't work with me.

Red eyes, ready to incinerate anything, look very sinister. If the color were at least golden, the conversation would be completely different. And here, the associations are also with the devil's color and raging fire, which is not good in terms of marketing. Flights, super strength, and speed, sure. Kill whomever you want and however you want. But red eyes are forbidden in any form, especially directed at the viewer.

Stormfront's hand rested on my shoulder as she moved closer for joint photos. I mechanically smile at the cameras, not resisting the girl's actions at all; on the contrary, I support them. My hand went down to her waist, and I gently pulled her closer, and the photographers were only too happy to shoot. This will be on the covers of the most popular magazines tomorrow, which will already strengthen my position.

However, I'm not going to apologize in any case. The losers apologize, and I don't consider myself one of them. Homelander can do whatever he wants, and no one tells him what to do. So how is my humble self any worse? For once, I will allow myself to go outside the bounds of decency and remain unpunished. Having finished the photo shoot, we sat down in front of one of the interviewers, of which there were about ten here. Usually, they are all monotonous, especially with the questions. It's just torture when you're asked the same question dozens of times, and you have to repeat your answer every damn time. There's no point in hoping for a miracle; it's powerless here.

— Before we start the interview, I'd like to make an announcement, if I may, — the interviewer nods, giving the floor to Stormfront. — I, Stormfront, would like to apologize to the Vought corporation and to Homelander personally, for my inappropriate behavior during an important shoot. I admit that I deliberately provoked Homelander into retaliatory actions. And I thank him for treating me much more gently than he could have.

The arrogant person says all this under my sympathetic gaze, which can be perceived as pity for the new, still-immature heroine. I smile softly at her and place my hand on her shoulder as a sign of support.

— Everyone has bad days and bad decisions, Stormfront. But the most important thing is that you can learn a lesson from them.

My inspired face is zoomed in for a close-up so everyone can see the sincerity in my bright blue eyes. The woman looks back at me and smiles timidly.

— Thank you, Homelander. Your support helps me a lot, even though I haven't been in The Seven for long.

— Remember, Stormfront. The Seven never abandons its own, — I continue the spectacle with the most serious expression. — And you can always count on us.

Then the interview began and ended quite quickly, not lasting longer than ten minutes. And then an employee of the next TV channel on the list sat opposite us, and everything started all over again. The same admission of guilt, thanks to the management for forgiveness, and a standard interview that I also had to participate in. By the fifth time, it had become very boring, even for me. But Stormfront's sour face almost completely compensated for this inconvenience.

Chapter Text

The results of my initiative were visible within a couple of hours, as expected. All the interviews were conversations about strength, about the potential of female supes, and actively denied the influence of gender on a person's power. I generously squeezed out a few compliments and praised Stormfront for the resilience she showed. I even had to compare her to Maeve, which was a huge exaggeration. I just hope my fiery shrew doesn't remind me of this later.

Next was the announcement of a movie called "Dawn of The Seven," even though we hadn't even read the script yet. But Stillwell insisted on it to shift the fans' attention from the scandal to something new and exciting. We'll see what this exciting thing is when we read the script, which will be provided to us soon. A-Train, who seems to have recovered, will be present then. But something tells me I'm unlikely to like the initial script approved by management. The emphasis on Stormfront being female was too suspicious during the interviews.

— And what are we waiting for? — The source of these very thoughts interrupted me.

— For them to pick us a low-effort job that we can handle quickly and then go about our business. — I answered her question phlegmatically, continuing to look at the city through the panoramic window in the conference room.

Yes, it didn't end with just interviews and official articles on news websites. Now we needed a fundamental "coupling" of our alter egos so that one could not be attacked without harming the other. This was one of the temporary solutions to the situation, to stop the outrage of the thousands of activists who are the loudest on the internet. And then the same scheme will be used for almost all members of The Seven to dilute the effect. Otherwise, they might start seeing us as a couple, which I wouldn't particularly want, given the high probability that I'll have to kick her off the team. She is too suspicious.

— So, you just stand here all the time and wait to fly out at the right moment? — The newcomer asked, rocking in her chair and looking at my back.

— That's a silly question, Stormfront, — I chuckled, finally turning to face her. — If you didn't have all your brains shaken out after my slap, you should understand that there aren't enough heroes to cover everything anyway. There are only a few dozen of them in the whole city, and they also need to remind people of themselves.

— And what's your point? — She smiled awkwardly under my gaze, although in reality, she was completely calm.

In this, she reminded me of Edgar; I sensed experience, which a twenty-six-year-old girl shouldn't have. And it certainly isn't overconfidence or maximalism. No, the perceptiveness she demonstrated suggested the opposite. That's why she caused me serious suspicion. I should check her past and figure out who I accepted into the team.

— The point is that members of The Seven are not some mediocre supes who constantly have to show up on camera so they aren't forgotten. On the contrary, we need to appear less often so as not to become stale and to receive deserved admiration from onlookers who are lucky enough to meet us.

— But that's not how it works, — the woman frowned, seemingly not understanding my arguments. — We have to do everything we can to keep from being forgotten.

— Do you often walk through Times Square? — I asked a question, which she immediately nodded to. — How many screens there do you think advertise Vought's products? The answer is simple: half. And all that half is filled with members of our team advertising something. That's not even mentioning the products, various trendy technologies, and even games. Like the "Apple" products that A-Train advertised.

— "Apple-Train"? — Stormfront asked with a chuckle.

— Correct. The name may be ridiculous, but it managed to attract people, — a chuckle escaped me. — That's why such frequent public appearances are unnecessary for us, as the whole world knows us even without them. It's like trying to promote the President of America, whose fame is already guaranteed regardless.

— Interesting comparison. — Stormfront commented, expressing slight disbelief with the mere tone of her voice.

I just chuckled at her words and turned back to the window. Yes, an extremely interesting comparison, considering that three Presidents have changed during The Seven's existence. It would be more appropriate to compare our team to the Queen of Britain, remembering how many years she has been in office. I even feel sorry for the Prince, who still holds that title, being an old man at this point.

While I was thinking about unrelated topics, the search for a suitable incident finally finished. The balcony on the floor, which was specially created for such take-offs, was very useful. And it helped me to confirm how good Stormfront is at using her abilities. Lightning from her hands pushed her body with a powerful thrust, allowing her to fly. It resembled how Starlight learned to fly.

But unlike her, Stormfront did not need to be near electrical devices, as she generated the lightning herself. And she learned to fly very well, almost at my speed, inside the city. So, we were able to reach the bank, where a robbery had taken place for entirely clear reasons, in the shortest possible time. It was a small bank branch that had been seized by five masked men just a couple of minutes ago.

A question might arise here: Why were we informed about this so quickly when even the police hadn't managed to get there? The answer is quite simple and brilliant. Vought concluded individual advertising contracts with banks. This approach allowed Vought to react to such incidents in a timely manner, as the alarm signal reached their service at the same time as the police. And all I had to do was assess the situation and act.

— Don't slack off, old man! — Before we could land, Stormfront unceremoniously flew into the bank and began showering four robbers with her lightning, pushing them back a couple of meters.

However, the fifth one, who was hiding behind a pillar, came out at her with a gun. Stormfront even froze at that, not believing the criminal's carelessness. I also condescendingly smirked. The overwhelming majority of supes are at least bulletproof, even Starlight, despite her innocent and fragile appearance. So I just shook my head and flew after my forced partner myself, landing right at the doors.

But instead of the expected shots towards the heroine, the man released the gun from his hands with a smirk and, straining his whole body, made a movement as if he was pushing something heavy with his chest. My bewilderment at the criminal's behavior vanished when I noticed a transparent clot, which reached the heroine, who was not expecting it, at bullet speed. What can I say? Even I was, to put it mildly, in shock. Right before my eyes, Stormfront's body broke through the bank wall and only stopped at the neighboring building, stuck in the wall like a fly unexpectedly hit by a fly swatter.

And then my incredible surprise quickly turned into focus when I noticed the second salvo being prepared. My body rose into the air only by a centimeter, only to be right in front of the super-villain in the blink of an eye. A punch landed right on his crown, literally driving the criminal face-first into the floor. The head, of course, easily went inside, stopping only after it went in by ten centimeters, no less. Even the bent rebar was visible. Well, to my eyes, for sure. At the same time, it was clear that the supe had lost consciousness but had not received truly critical damage. At least his heart was beating, which indicated that he would come to his senses soon. Only that wouldn't concern me anymore, as he would cease to be my problem.

— Homelander!! — Someone from the bank visitors screamed and began to clap, which the others already picked up, showering me with their applause. — You're the best!!!

Well, I had to wave with a smile at the involuntary spectators of my feat, though without forgetting about the remaining four criminals. And that's what helped me stop the attempt to pick up a pistol; I just had to burn straight through the hand of the criminal who had come to. But it was simply not worth directing heat vision at the firearm if I didn't want various surprises related to the bullets inside. Homelander himself knew this, often letting criminals spend the entire clip on him and only then melting the weapon in their hands with his gaze. He could have acted more humanely, but as far as I understood, he simply enjoyed the heartbreaking screams of people at that moment.

And once again, something unforeseen happened. Instead of recoiling his hand, this criminal stood up with a growl and ran at me, not noticing the burns appearing on his face, covered by a mask. And then I easily managed to catch his hand, which he was going to punch me in the face with. Then the second fist was in my hands, which severely limited the maneuvers of the opponent, who also turned out to be a supe. The burns that disappeared from his face right before my eyes clearly showed this, leaving only the melted parts of the rubber mask as a memory. It seemed that enhanced regeneration helped him quickly recover from Stormfront's lightning, but he did not possess strength as such. Which explained the attempt to grab the pistol; he either wanted to take someone hostage or kill at least a couple of people. One of the two. It's difficult to understand the logic of terrorists, especially if they planned your appearance.

— AAAA!!! — This inadequate supe screamed in my face and tried to turn my balls into something completely unsightly with a kick.

But who would let him do that? Certainly not me. It was with these thoughts that I broke his leg with a kick, and then the second one. The scream turned into a pitiful wail that was getting on my nerves. Putting a supe with regeneration to sleep is a rather difficult task if you don't have special gas on hand. So I'll have to make do with improvised means. Sighing, I released his hands, causing him to fall to the ground, whimpering pitifully over his injured legs.

The people around fell silent, looking at me warily. Several people were already recording my actions on smartphone cameras, most likely planning to upload the video to the internet later. That's all I needed.

— Citizens, there is no need to panic. This man is a super-villain and will recover in just a couple of minutes. Don't take what happened too personally; people like him don't deserve your pity. — I told them in a confident tone, seeing timid nods and understanding in people's eyes in response. It's a good thing there were no children nearby; otherwise, the sound of crying children in the background wouldn't have added to my credibility.

— Did I miss something? — Stormfront, who finally returned inside the bank, asked after all the mess was over.

Although it's hard to blame her for this, as everything happened in less than two minutes. But she was late anyway and hadn't anticipated the situation beforehand, which would have helped avoid material costs, in the form of a broken wall and floor. And her appearance was not very presentable after meeting with two walls, which was her own fault. Chuckling at her question, I grabbed the whimpering super-villain by the jacket and simply dragged him to the exit.

— Don't slack off, sweetie. — I smirked, walking past her. I didn't even turn around to look at the indignant face of the presumptuous upstart. I could feel that burning gaze without even looking.

Yes, it turned out to be an eventful day. Two super-villains at once, who can usually only be found in their territory, are now in my city. This is very bad news. And since there are two of them here, it cannot be ruled out that there are several more in the city. What kind of day is this? They ruined my whole mood, those jerks.

Chapter Text

I thoughtfully watched the young man, who stared at me with rage in his eyes. He couldn't scream because his mouth was gagged, as he had been howling like a stuck pig earlier. Typical Asian features. It was quite possible that he was a compatriot of Kimiko's, which couldn't be ruled out. If she ended up with us, why couldn't others? And this guy was much more radical than she was. I understand, factual invulnerability gives an added rush of courage.

— Hello, Homelander. — A plump man with a short beard stammered in the doorway. His grayish eyes looked at me with reverence and a touch of fear.

— Come in, Mesmer, — I nodded to him, watching him hurriedly enter the room. — You know what to do.

— Yes, right away. — The man exhaled, calming down, and touched the Asian man's bare skin.

An extremely fascinating ability: tactile telepathy. Reading memories, sometimes in the smallest detail. The only drawback is that the person on whom the ability is being used clearly feels it. And so the Asian with regeneration also saw in minute detail how his mind was being unscrupulously dug through. That's why he tried to break free from his restraints, convulsing. But he simply could not stop the process that had begun, and by resisting, he only felt pain, which made him grunt louder.

— It's them again. The Shining Light Liberation Army, — Mesmer muttered, mentioning the name of the organization Kimiko came from. — They arrived at the port, during the night. And one of them lifted the ship and hurled it to the ground.

— And where did they hide? At least approximately.

— They immediately split up, one of them left, — the man squeezed his eyes shut, as if trying to discern something. — It's unclear what they intended to do next; I don't know their language.

— Is there anything else?

— There was... Kenji, Kimiko's brother. He's the one who flipped the ship; he's the last of them. — Mesmer sighed, removing his hand from the Asian and wiping the sweat from his forehead. This session of telepathy was quite difficult for him.

— Are you alright? — I asked out of politeness, seeing him breathing heavily.

— Everything is fine. I just need to rest a little. — The man smiled timidly.

— Don't strain yourself so much, there aren't many useful employees like you, — I smiled at him, lightly clapping him on the back. — And thank you for your work.

— No, no, I should be thanking you. If it weren't for you, I wouldn't have been able to meet my daughter or get this job. I was even given a role, albeit a secondary one. But still, I'll be acting alongside Blindspot. It's a great start.

— Congratulations, — I smiled politely, pointing towards the door. — And now, can you leave us alone?

— Yes, yes, of course. Good luck, Homelander. — Mesmer answered hastily and scurried out. I turned back to the Asian man and scrutinized his face.

— So, Kenji. — I mumbled thoughtfully, considering where he might be hiding.

— Sir, Miss Stillwell is calling for you. — A girl's head poked through the door, and she addressed me.

— And who are you? — I asked her, remembering that Ashley had been fired after Starlight's stunt. Madelyn didn't waste any time with that.

— I'm Ashley. — The girl replied without delay.

— I'll remember that. — I nodded to her, barely suppressing a smile. The girl looked at me bewilderedly and left.

Snorting, I shook my head and headed for the elevator. We acted very quickly, so only two hours had passed since the memorable robbery. This means that the topic of discussion might be the brutal treatment of the criminals, which surely managed to get online in that short time. I reached Stillwell's office, which had moved to the ninety-ninth floor, next to Stan Edgar's. I entered without knocking, understanding that she was expecting only me and was therefore not busy.

— Good afternoon, Madelyn.

— Homelander, — the woman nodded, sitting in her chair. — How is the investigation progressing?

— Not bad. Only one left to find, but that shouldn't be a problem.

— That's good. But what's not good... — Stillwell sighed and turned her laptop screen towards me.

The video clearly showed me breaking the legs of a man who was screaming in my face. And combined with my bright red eyes, it looked absolutely spectacular. And how many views all this will get in a day... dammit.

— And what do you want to say? — I asked her resignedly, rolling my eyes.

— I'm not asking you to be some kind of saint, — she got up from her chair and walked over to me. — But you should have tried to manage with less... bloodshed.

— Madelyn, I tried. Circumstances just aligned that way, you know that, — I replied to her, looking at her questioningly. — What have you figured out?

— We'll have to do an emergency news broadcast, with your interview. And we're actively deleting the video, although that will only slightly delay the inevitable. We need to get ahead of it, — she walked over to her desk and took out a stack of papers, handing them to me. — This is your script. Make corrections where there are discrepancies. And no improvising.

— Will do, boss. — I snorted shamelessly, which made her smile too.

— Alright, the shoot is in thirty minutes. You know the floor.

***

Sitting at the head of the table, I looked at the assembled team members, who were ready to listen to me. A-Train could not participate in the meeting yet, for obvious reasons. But the absence of another team member was unclear; she hadn't skipped them before.

— Where's Maeve?

— She left due to... family matters. Someone in her family was hospitalized. That's what she said.

— I see, so there's no point in waiting for her now, — I nodded, understanding such circumstances, although something here still didn't quite add up. — Let's start the emergency meeting. As you should know, two super-villains were involved in the bank robbery today. Fortunately, there were no civilian casualties.

I stood up and, taking the remote control, showed a video on the screen from the bank's cameras where we prevented the robbery.

— I have a hypothesis that our appearance there was not planned. This is further confirmed by the fact that there were only three super-villains in total, and the absence of the last one suggests that the robbery was spontaneous. Otherwise, they would have used all available forces.

Next, I switched to the next video, which showed the terrorists exiting the ship. It is not yet clear who was transporting them, but they are already being searched for. Here, in the following seconds, it shows two of them arguing over something, and one of them, pointing his hands towards the ship, literally pulls it out of the water and throws it onto the land, thereby hitting his offender. The team's reaction was expected, as the supe was powerful enough to kill at least three people here and cause such destruction in the city that no one would envy our reputation afterward.

— And how will they find him? You can't see his face here. — The Deep spoke anxiously.

— The other two were Asian, so this one is probably a slant-eye too, — Stormfront suggested, earning a disapproving look from Starlight. — What? It's a fact.

— Mesmer was able to get into the head of one of the captured super-villains, and from his words, we have the face of the last one, — I showed a drawing of a skinny Asian man on the screen. — He is already being actively searched for using all available cameras in the city.

— So what should we do then? — Stormfront asked, hinting that the information given to them was useless and we should get to the point.

At that moment, the gate opened, letting in the Asian woman, who calmly headed toward me with a phlegmatic look, under Stormfront's narrowed eyes. Kimiko smiled and showed me the last page of her notebook, where she had been practicing writing letters.

— Not bad, Kimiko, — I smiled at the attractive Asian woman. — Looks like you need a new notebook.

The girl nodded affirmatively and looked around, freezing when she saw the drawing of Kenji. She sharply turned back towards me, looking concerned. You don't need to be a telepath to understand Kimiko's current state.

— Don't worry, no one will hurt your brother.

— What do you mean? — Stormfront asked with a touch of indignation, pointing at the screen. — Is that her brother? And who is she?

— Kimiko, this is Stormfront, — I introduced her to the Asian woman, and then addressed the newbie. — Kimiko is our official prisoner and a former super-villain. Get used to it; her brother will be here soon too.

— But they are terrorists. — The woman frowned, apparently trying to understand the logic of my actions.

— First and foremost, they are supes, just like us, — I replied passionately. — They are not to blame for being born in the wrong place.

— You know... you're right, — she looked at me differently, which was strange. — I was wrong. I'm sorry, Kimiko.

The mute woman looked at her with suspicion and cautiously nodded, and Stormfront looked at me with a question.

— She doesn't talk, — I answered her and looked at the Asian woman. — Kimiko, go back to your room now.

At that, the girl shook her head sharply, after which she began making hand gestures. Not for the first time, of course. So I more or less already understood the meaning of her gestures.

— I see, you want to participate in his capture. Fine, you will participate, — but even after my words, she stayed put, looking at me demandingly. — I promise.

Only after that did she nod and finally start to leave.

— She's very worried about her brother. — Starlight tried to justify her friend's behavior, receiving an understanding nod from me.

— Let's summarize. I gathered you here so that you would be aware of the events and have full information. Also, I want you to be ready for a possible urgent call and to know that this capture will be broadcast on our TV channel. So no going rogue, Stormfront. — I looked strictly at the newcomer, as the only one who might disobey my order.

— Yes, sir. — She replied affirmatively.

— That's great. That's all for now; you are dismissed.

Only when I was left in the empty room did my gaze fix on Maeve's chair. The strange thing was that she left due to family matters. But as far as I know, none of her family are still alive, due to natural causes. So where did the family matters come from? I should check that out.

Chapter Text

Maeve sat by the bed, listening to the steady beep of the medical equipment and the quiet breathing of her... friend. At these thoughts, a sigh escaped her, filled with moral more than physical exhaustion. She didn't understand what she was even doing here. She had supposedly broken up with Elena, but in the end, she ran back as soon as she found out she was in the hospital. At the same time, she had no idea what she could say to her when she woke up after the surgery. If Maeve had at least said a proper goodbye before leaving her, everything would have been a little simpler... maybe. When it came to her ex, she frankly didn't understand anything. So, the red-haired heroine had no idea what direction the dialogue would take.

Looking at the peaceful face of the woman lying on the bed, she simply couldn't help but recall the circumstances that had forced her to leave Elena. She told her it was because of her career and acted like a mercenary bitch, simply cutting off communication. At the same time, Maeve had also broken up with Homelander, explaining to him that he was constantly cheating on her. But she had known about his regular infidelities even before that, which was partly why Elena entered her life.

However, the true reason for the breakup was indeed Homelander, or rather, his incredible jealousy. In those days, she read the news with horror about how everyone who got too close to her died from a variety of causes. It could be a car crash or gas poisoning. And too often, she saw his suspicious looks directed at her, which did nothing to improve her mood. The day was not far off when the blond maniac would find out about her affair with Elena. She didn't even want to think about such an outcome, so she had to act as radically as possible. And now, seven years later, here she was.

— Isn't the appearance of these super-villains in our city an alarm bell? — The news anchor asked his guest in a well-trained voice. — Perhaps a curfew should be imposed?

The words about super-villains forced Maeve to tear herself away from her heavy thoughts and pay attention to the screen of the miniature television. The volume was at minimum so as not to disturb her friend, and her incredible hearing allowed her to clearly hear the sounds coming from the not-so-modern set. She had apparently turned it on just to avoid the silence, although the faint crackling was slightly irritating.

Maeve frowned, looking at the face of the Vought anchor with incomprehension. She had no idea which super-villains were being discussed, as she had turned off her phone due to the frequent calls that were infinitely annoying her at the time. Now the persistence of the management, in the person of Stillwell, became clear. If something like this was happening, her accessibility was necessary.

— David, we shouldn't incite panic. It's not as if uninvited guests with bad intentions haven't made their way to us before. — John smiled condescendingly, sitting casually across from the anchor.

— So, there's nothing to fear?

— There is always something to fear. Superheroes constantly patrol the cities, but that doesn't always save us from the unexpected, — he sighed with regret, answering the question thoroughly. — So, first and foremost, I can advise you to rely on yourselves, then on God, and only then on others.

— That is very sound advice, Homelander. — David nodded, looking at the hero with understanding. — Is there a possibility that another super-villain will appear?

— Unfortunately, the possibility is not zero, — the blonde nodded thoughtfully. — That is precisely why The Seven will be thoroughly patrolling the city all week to ensure no super-villain escapes justice.

Maeve stared unblinkingly at John's face and sighed, turning away. Their relationship was too sweet right now, so much so that it sometimes made her uncomfortable. It simply caused dissonance, despite her full understanding of the situation. She had never felt this way before, even with Elena. Completely atypical feelings had overwhelmed her lately regarding him.

And yet, this was completely different from how it was with him before. It couldn't even compare to her relationship with Elena; Maeve wanted to hold Elena close, protect her, keep her safe. In terms of carnal pleasures, things were more sparse, purely due to different physiologies. Here, throwing herself at him had become commonplace. She wanted to lean into him, rely on him, for him to protect her. And something told her that John would protect her, even though it wasn't necessary. That thought alone warmed her heart, causing her to smile involuntarily.

Feeling dryness in her mouth, Maeve got up and left the ward into the corridor, then walked to where there were supposedly vending machines with various snacks and drinks. Her search immediately met with success, and the girl stood in front of the drink machine, looking for something to her taste. The beauty began to bite her lip, unsure of what to choose. In recent months, all alcohol had disappeared from her daily diet, so she only enjoyed the taste of the drinks themselves. Strangely, she had tried almost everything in the machine's assortment and was only choosing which juice she wanted now.

— Grape seems nice.

— I prefer cherry.

— I don't see much difference.

— Maybe because you haven't tried it? — She turned with a smile to John, who had approached her completely silently from behind.

Despite her smile, Maeve tensed significantly upon seeing him there. Because if he finds out... she just didn't want to think about it. The blonde was in his, already familiar to her, guise. Slightly tousled hair and glasses without prescription, it was highly doubtful that he would ever need them. She simply couldn't fail to appreciate the brilliance of such a disguise and had even started using her colleague's methods.

— You put on glasses, — John remarked with a smirk. — And someone once said it looked ridiculous.

— John, there's a big difference between how you wear glasses and how I wear them, — Maeve replied in a deliberately self-satisfied tone, adjusted the glasses on her nose, and stated emphatically: — They suit me.

— I can't argue with that. — The blonde smiled, seemingly gazing at the woman, which did not escape her attentive eyes.

— By the way, I wanted to ask you. Why are you here? — Maeve decided to ask, wanting the most detailed answer possible.

— I wanted to let you know that you should be ready, — he said, after a slight pause. — One of the super-terrorists is free, and he's Kimiko's brother, so...

— Wait, Kimiko has a brother? — Maeve was surprised.

— Hasn't she told you? — John replied with undisguised mockery in his gaze.

— Obviously not. — The woman frowned, sighing softly at her colleague's inappropriate jokes.

— That's why I came. — The man stated.

— That's not the whole reason, — Maeve dramatically rolled her eyes, expressing her attitude toward the interlocutor's words. — You could have told me over the phone, or just texted. But you tracked me down and came here. What's the real reason?

— I thought something serious had happened. You usually didn't miss meetings, even though it's just a formality. Did something happen?

— Why the question? — Maeve chuckled, looking at his worried face and not understanding if he was acting or sincere in the emotions he showed. — You literally see through people, so how do you think I feel?

— I don't know anatomy well enough to discern something like that in the early stages, though I plan to fill that gap.

— What early stage? — Maeve asked bewilderedly, having no idea what he was talking about.

— Pregnancy. Isn't that why you're here?

— Wait, you thought I was pregnant? Why would I go to a hospital for that when there's a specialized facility?

— Anonymity? — John confessed after a momentary pause. — So it wouldn't become public knowledge.

— Logical, surprisingly, — Maeve smiled, regaining her composure. — But that's very far from the truth.

The man sighed softly, as if releasing the tension that had accumulated during this time. And only now did Maeve notice how worried he was, which brought an involuntary smile to her face. To think, the great Homelander was worried about her supposed pregnancy; such a thing simply couldn't help but amuse her.

— But then why...

— A friend of mine ended up in the hospital. — She interrupted him, throwing herself into the deep end anyway.

— Friend?

— Friend. — Maeve exhaled, understanding from his face that there would be no consequences, despite all her fears.

She liked John, as the new owner of Homelander's body, or maybe his consciousness. Who can figure out these supes? There are so many of them now that sooner or later, someone had to appear who would subordinate the body of the strongest among them. So this didn't cause her much shock when his entire behavior and even his manner of speaking changed. Now she was even glad that everything had happened this way. And perhaps, one day, John himself would confess who he really is. She didn't want to rush him.

— And let's clarify one thing immediately, — she looked closely into his eyes, to which he nodded. — For such an important examination, you will be by my side, and that's non-negotiable.

— Understood, ma'am, — the blonde smiled, quickly taking her arm. — There's a nice cafe just across the street where we can grab a bite. And I would like to invite you there for a late lunch, if you don't mind.

— Is this a date?

— Essentially, it is. — John nodded solemnly, barely suppressing a smile.

— Then take me there, sir. — Maeve replied in the same solemn voice, dutifully walking towards the elevator. Indeed, it would be nice to grab something to eat, and even better in good company.

Chapter Text

The now-familiar office belonging to Stillwell was literally bathed in sunlight, illuminating the already bright interior items. True, there were no radical differences from the old office, although the mini-fridge was new. The old one was apparently left in the previous office, which was located below. Now it belongs to Ashley, or rather, the new Ashley, since her predecessor was fired. I wonder if she suspects she was chosen only because of her name, so they wouldn't waste time remembering a new one?

— Sorry, I was held up with Mr. Edgar. — The woman entered the office looking slightly winded, walked to her chair, and sat down.

This deception would have worked, of course, if I hadn't seen her calmly walking here. Why did she even bother? Does she think I'll be offended if she doesn't rush to meet me? Although, such behavior would certainly be preferable with Homelander, especially if there are no levers of pressure on him.

— It's nothing; since Mr. Edgar himself held you up, I'm not offended. — I smiled condescendingly at her, briefly inspecting the woman's changed appearance.

Like any executive, Stillwell looked after her appearance and dressed according to her status. But that status did not make her a millionaire who could spend money left and right. No, she wasn't poor, but she still didn't dress as well as she did now. As far as I know, her salary was significantly raised, and then she was given a bonus. So she took advantage of it, having her work outfits custom-made. And I know how to distinguish simple fabric from what supes wear.

— Nice outfit, by the way. — I complimented her choice, and it couldn't be otherwise. That's just the kind of person she is.

— You noticed? — Madelyn smiled, understanding what I was talking about by the tone alone.

With skills like that, she should aim for Stan Edgar's position, which he himself seems to approve of. The old man seems tired of working with practically uncontrollable heroes. Apparently, he was working for Vought even when Soldier Boy was the company's mascot, and an active mascot at that. So he had experience cooperating with the strongest supe in the world even before Homelander, and before me.

— One flaw: the head, — I commented, scanning the outfit thoughtfully once more. — Otherwise, it's virtually unnoticeable. Almost like Stan's.

— You can't protect yourself from everything when dealing with ordinary people. — The woman chuckled, apparently internally envying the capabilities of people like me.

Although why "apparently"? It's visible just by looking at Maeve, who is not much younger than Stillwell but looks much younger and fresher. Yes, every woman would want to look twenty-something at forty.

— Should we get straight to business? I still have a meeting planned and personal matters to attend to. — I sighed dramatically, tracking her reaction.

— Can't The Seven wait for its leader for even a couple of extra minutes? — She answered me irritably, but almost immediately put on a fake smile, realizing she had let her emotions slip.

Well, she is probably being rigorously trained for the CEO position if she let her true emotions out even in such an informal setting, without any effort on my part. Things are tough for Madelyn these days, but ambitions demand a price, and money often plays not even a secondary role in them.

— Let me guess, you can't see your son because of the workload? — I guessed, seeing confirmation in the woman's heavy sigh. — I understand, even if I haven't been in the role of a father for that long.

— Alright, enough about family matters, — she said, giving me a skeptical look. — Yesterday, you and Stormfront caught two super-villains, literally strangling a brewing scandal in the cradle. Brilliant work.

— Thank you. — I replied phlegmatically, not mentioning that I took on all the dirty work myself while my partner was chilling in the wall of a neighboring building.

— However, that doesn't negate the fact that super-villains still made it into the city and caused a commotion, — Madelyn continued grimly, giving me a strange look. — Don't you find that suspicious?

— What exactly?

— They appeared too timely, just like last time. — The accusations against me were almost direct, which even outraged me.

— What are you getting at? Do you honestly think I would transport terrorists into the city because of a minor scandal that people will forget about in a week? — I let my indignation burst out, sharply getting up from the chair. I didn't think she had such a low opinion of me. Who does she take me for?!

— Alright, alright, calm down! — Stillwell watched me with horror, shrinking into her chair, which knocked all the negative emotion out of me.

That allowed me to notice the red glow reflecting on the glass of the cabinet where Stillwell's personal awards and other junk were kept. The fire in my eyes immediately faded, slightly calming the frightened woman.

— Remember this, Stillwell. I am not a psychopath who is willing to sacrifice the lives of ordinary people for such a trivial matter that will be forgotten in a week. — I addressed her in a calmer voice and silently left, not wanting to look at that fool any longer. And what would have happened if she had blurted that out in the presence of outsiders? As if I have time for such idiotic actions right now, with all my responsibilities.

Only in the elevator was I able to slightly calm my raging emotions, already thinking about the consequences of my outburst of irritation. And they were harmless enough, if I'm not mistaken. I didn't overstep the line and calmed down in time. But I still shouldn't conflict with the future CEO of Vought, especially if I want to retire normally in a couple of years. And to avoid attempts to get rid of the threat, in my person, by any means necessary.

— Looks like everyone is here, so we can begin, — I clapped my hands, drawing everyone's attention as I entered the room. — And yes, I forgot the elephant in the room. A-Train, congratulations on your recovery. How do you feel?

— Ready to run at the speed of light, — Reggie replied cheerfully, smiling, but then slightly calmed down. — And thank you, sir.

— That's primarily your merit, remember that.

The guy nodded silently, apparently not knowing what to say. Homelander did not pamper his team; no wonder they became such indecisive bobbleheads under his leadership.

— By the way, meet our newcomer, Stormfront. And now let's start the meeting, — I continued, reaching my chair and sitting down. — On the agenda is the movie "Dawn of The Seven," for now, just the script. We need to make changes that satisfy all team members. Adam, please.

The chubby guy in glasses perked up when I addressed him. Next to Brook was a black screenwriter, Seth Reed. As I recall, a few years ago, the man had an affair with Ice Princess. A chill ran down my spine just imagining what happened to his penis after one night with her. Fortunately for Vought, the man didn't blame the heroine at all and didn't go to court, although he could have. A real scandal would have erupted, as victory was assured for him. And that would have been a precedent, after which accusations and lawsuits would have rained down on Vought.

That's the only reason he was entrusted with an entire movie, along with his friend. Now we have to see what he wrote, based on the current social narrative. Unfortunately, there is no other way.

Meanwhile, Adam began to tell us how the movie would start. A standard opening with Homelander, who will constantly be in the foreground, and how he caught some Martinez and handcuffed him. After which he turned to the team and suggested they get together more often to fight crime, naturally. It was clear that the backstory of these events would not be shown. And this is The Seven's first collaborative effort. Brilliant...

Fortunately, the rest of the team shared a similar opinion, in contrast to Adam, who exuded simply incredible enthusiasm. It's a shame it was fake, which was evident from Reed, who did not share his friend's opinion but supported him with a strained smile and nods where necessary. In principle, the focus of this presentation was on my reaction and decision, which would have worked with Homelander. But not with me.

— And powerful music: Haaaans Ziiimmeeeer! — Brook sang at the end, under awkward glances. — Fade out! Title: Dawn of The Seven!

— Wonderful. I assume Translucent will be played by a stunt double. — I had to interrupt the silence that formed after this "epoch-making" presentation.

— Yes! Of course. Lin-Manuel Miranda himself wants to voice him! — The director became animated, realizing that no one was going to throw rotten tomatoes at him yet.

— Well, that way we can use him in larger episodes. — I continued, causing bewilderment in Adam and genuine interest from the team members and Reed.

— What?

— Adam, Reed, — I looked at the two failed creators. — I'm flattered by such an emphasis on my person, but we are making a movie about the entire Seven, not just Homelander.

Bewildered and even shocked looks were directed at me from everyone except Maeve. She was simply smiling, just watching the show. Well, of course, Homelander didn't want to be in the foreground. Unheard of! Heh, they'll have to get used to it.

— The beginning should be supplemented and a scene added on the water, where... a whale rams a speed boat so the villain can't escape. Instead of the tree that Martinez will crash into, we can use Crimson Countess to melt the asphalt. Instead of one car, a couple of SUVs should be used, for spectacular effect. Queen Maeve, along with Marathon, will deal with the guards from those SUVs, while Noir will conduct a sweep of the mansion. And of course, the villain will manage to escape from there in a car, but Translucent will already be inside.

Silence. Yes, it turned out to be genuinely fresher than what was offered by those who have been working in this field for years. Although, in defense, the blame could be shifted to Homelander himself, who accustomed them to this. After all, he had the right to change the script as he saw fit, so they did what they always did. That is, they did everything to please me.

— And what about you? — Seth asked the burning question, recovering before anyone else.

— And I will descend from the heavens and handcuff Martinez, — I shrugged, as if speaking of something insignificant. — And the script should be adjusted. Too much focus on me; that won't do. It needs to be rewritten so that the focus is on Starlight, as the newcomer with whom the audience will find it easier to associate.

— But why? Didn't you like the script? — Adam somewhat deflated, losing all his enthusiasm.

— Adam, admit it, following the adventures of an invincible rock is much more boring than following a fragile-looking girl who will try to join a team of legendary heroes, — Starlight's surprised look brought a smirk to my face. Yes, you haven't even filmed a solo movie yet, and you're already playing the main role in a team project. — We also shouldn't forget that she will have to live up to her predecessor, against the backdrop of another newcomer who will stand out for her overconfidence.

— Wow, so I'm the villain here? — Stormfront protested.

— The rival. Don't substitute concepts, darling. Rivalry greatly contributes to the development of heroes and will easily fit into the plot. And it wouldn't hurt the women to have more human dialogue. So, is anyone against these changes?

I looked around at those present. A-Train is silent, clearly indicating that everything suits him. The Deep looks at me with admiration, and Noir is absorbed in his notebook, where he started drawing something. Maeve is calmly drinking juice, and Starlight is still processing what she heard. Only Stormfront looks displeased, but she remains silent, understanding that she won't change my decision. Well done.

— Then, change the script. We meet in a week; I think that's enough time, — I made the decision, and waited for the director and screenwriter to leave. — Meeting adjourned.

After saying goodbye to everyone, I decided to take care of personal matters. It's time to start training Ryan.

Chapter Text

Translator's Note: AHOY, friends!

The translation (and this account) was handed over to me on a voluntary-compulsory basis (save me!), so chapter releases are likely resumed...

For now, here is one, but more will be coming soon.

Stay healthy and don't get sick!

---

A sunny day, crisp air, and a dense forest all around. Best of all, there wasn't a single stray bystander to be seen for miles. I specifically chose the most remote spot to ensure that. It also made keeping an eye on Becca and Ryan more difficult, though I wasn't worried about myself. My eyes can spot bugs and various tracking devices from several kilometers away if I feel like looking for them. And I keep a very close watch on my territory.

— You've gotten faster, — I said, dodging long claws and protecting my beautiful eyes from being gouged out. — But not fast enough.

I couldn't let such a dangerous stunt go unanswered. I grabbed my opponent's arm and flipped her over my shoulder. To my surprise, she not only landed easily on her feet but managed to twist mid-air and land a kick to my head. Given the awkward position Becca had been in, the move caught me off guard, causing me to release the arm I was holding.

The girl took advantage of the opening and bolted, trying to hide from me. A smirk touched my lips; she had never succeeded at that, even without me using X-ray vision. I ran after her, matching her pace to keep her on edge, staying just slightly faster. Just as I was about to catch her, Rebecca veered left, disappearing behind a thick tree for a split second. I couldn't pass up the opportunity and moved to intercept her, aiming to end up right in front of her.

Except she didn't come out from behind it, which surprised me again. But what surprised me even more was a massive impact as my chest collided with Becca’s elegant legs. The force pushed me back, dragging my boots through the damp earth. Before I could stand, the girl was already on top of me, merely signaling a strike with her claws. Even though she knew they couldn't hurt me, it showed her instincts were finally under control. Usually, she didn't hold back.

— I... won. — The predator announced, breathing heavily and taking her time to get off her defeated opponent.

— I admit defeat. — I smiled my brightest smile, raising my hands in surrender.

— Shut up. — The beauty smiled back, leaning down to give me a tender kiss. Unfortunately, it was too brief; our lips barely brushed against each other before she pulled away.

— You're just going to leave me hungry? — I snorted, watching her smoothly rise to her feet.

— Dinner is in a couple of hours. It’s meatballs in sauce tonight. — She replied nonchalantly, straightening her clothes and shaking off the dirt. She turned away to hide her face, not noticing I was already behind her.

— You know what I mean.

I rested my hands on her shoulders, making her flinch before she relaxed as I began to slowly massage them. A soft moan escaped her lips, making my whole being stir. God, how I wanted to hear that sound more often, louder, and in the bedroom.

— You mentioned something about Ryan’s training.

She tried to change the subject—quite clumsily, I might add.

— Yes, I want to teach him how to fly.

— Is that safe? Are you sure he’s ready?

The worried mother turned to me, causing me to freeze for a couple of seconds. In moments like these, she becomes far more attractive than when she’s contorting her body in combat.

— John?

— He’ll manage. At his age, I had already broken the sound barrier. Everything will be fine, — I assured the young mother with a chuckle. — If you want, you can be there for the lesson. Though you won't see much if we get airborne today.

— Ryan is afraid of heights, — Becca warned. — Just don't start too high up.

— How do you imagine that? What if he just fails to take off and hits the ground? You’d be the first one running to him, even though his skin can already stop bullets.

— So what are you suggesting? Flying him up to a bird's eye view and just dropping him into a free fall? — Becca asked indignantly, her claws extending from the stress without her even noticing.

— That is exactly what I’m suggesting, — I shrugged, looking at the woman’s shocked face. — You know how cats, dogs, and even humans learn to swim? In a moment of danger, their instincts tell them what to do. It’s the same with flying. He’s ready; he was ready a year ago. It’s in his blood. You’ll see—you’ll be chasing him around soon enough, screaming at him not to fly in the house.

— I don't scream at him, — the woman replied with a pout, then sighed. — Just promise you’ll be there to catch him.

— I promise.

With that, the conversation ended, and we hurried back to the house, where Ryan was patiently and even interestedly doing his homework. Smart kid, and diligent too. Though I suspect the former has something to do with my genes, giving him a nearly perfect memory. It would be interesting to see what would happen if someone like that got into science. I hadn't seen that in Ryan yet, but when it comes to hobbies, there are definitely superheroes involved. Well, he seems to like the Seven, but the rest are a mystery.

When we entered the house, he looked up from his work. Becca called him into the living room and sat her son down on the sofa. The boy looked at us with questioning eyes, waiting for an explanation.

— Ryan, I... that is, we, have something to tell you.

— Okay?

The boy asked hesitantly, looking at his mother with confusion. His gaze shifted to me, and I gave him a confident smile and a wink. Ryan smiled back uncertainly, calming down.

— I think it’s time to reveal whose son you are. — I smiled gently at my son and took off my glasses. — I’m Homelander.

— Where’s the suit? — That was the first thing the little rascal said after only a couple of seconds.

I could tell by his eyes that he knew all along—especially with that playful smirk. He knew and hadn't said a word the whole time. Though it should be understood that my glasses weren't exactly given to me by a certain Kryptonian to fool everyone. While a passerby might not notice, a highly perceptive boy would quickly see the resemblance between his father and the most famous superhero in the world.

Later, we left the house and headed to a spot I had prepared earlier. The clearing in the middle of the forest looked slightly out of place, perhaps because of the nearly invisible pits that hadn't yet been overgrown with grass. There were enough of them to show that quite large trees had stood there before. I had spent nearly an hour clearing the space.

— This is where we’ll start.

— What am I supposed to do? — Ryan looked around at the clearing.

— You’re going to fly.

— But I don't know how.

— You’ll learn, and fast.

I easily picked my son up in my arms.

— Just be careful.

I only nodded at the worried mother’s words; speech was unnecessary. Ryan, however, was extremely concerned about his situation, having no idea what was happening. I smirked and lightly pushed off the ground before smoothly gliding upward. The boy stared wide-eyed as Becca’s silhouette grew smaller by the second. He tensed up as he felt us accelerate. Now, instead of wonder, there was fear in his eyes, and his hands literally clawed into me, refusing to let go.

— Dad?

— Yes?

— Are we going back down now?

— Of course. Very soon.

Slowly but surely, we approached the cloud layer, eventually stopping at that altitude.

— Really?

A quiet voice, almost a whisper, sounded near my ear.

— Really.

My hands easily pushed the boy’s light body away. He watched me in shock as he rapidly disappeared into the clouds, hurtling downward. I can imagine what he’s feeling now as I indifferently watched his descent. Then, I let myself go too, letting gravity do its work. My body dived into the clouds as well, soon reaching the level of the boy, who was screaming at the top of his lungs. Perhaps I shouldn't have started from this height? Regardless, it didn't matter now.

— How are you doing?

The casual question definitely caught him off guard, as he even stopped screaming. Ryan looked at me with those same huge eyes, seemingly unable to tell if I was mocking him or asking a serious question.

— You dropped me! — His eyes flared with heat, showing his anger and sense of injustice were entirely genuine.

— Yes.

I even nodded with a snide grin. Anger is much better than fear and panic, especially when you’re falling from above a bird's eye view. At least I confirmed his super-hearing was intact since he could hear me clearly. That’s good; I’ll have to work on that too. The boy himself didn't even know what to say to my nonchalant response.

— Calmed down? Now listen carefully if you want to learn how to fly.

I flew up to him and flipped him over so he was facing belly-down. Due to the wind hitting his face, Ryan squeezed his eyes shut to protect them. As it happens, it’s almost impossible to damage my eyes or his unless we try it ourselves.

— Listen to my voice, Ryan. Focus on it and do exactly as I say.

The boy nodded, still afraid to open his eyes.

— Relax. Breathe deeper. Feel the air, feel the wind hitting your face. Feel it in your gut, trust your instincts. Fly!

My low, confident voice had an effect on him I hadn't expected. Ryan actually pushed off and literally flew forward and up, gaining speed. The kid definitely had a talent for it. I quickly caught up to him, flying alongside.

— Open your eyes. Look at what you can do.

My quiet whisper was heard, and the boy opened his eyes, seeing the incredible views unfolding before him. The majestic sight of clouds blanketing the heavens. Before, panic and then anger had blinded him. But now he could look at his surroundings with clear eyes, and he definitely liked the view.

— I’m flying... I’m flying, Dad! — Ryan shouted with delight, throwing his arms forward.

Then he abruptly dove downward with a smile on his lips. His attitude toward the extreme fall had shifted completely, judging by the slight recklessness. Snorting at my son’s antics, I dove after him.

— Mom, look!

The woman watched in a bit of a stupor as her son circled around her, soaring up and performing pirouettes in the air. Meanwhile, I landed next to her, watching my son. His behavior reminded me of fledglings that had just left the nest and felt a taste of freedom. There was something mesmerizing about it, like a child’s first steps.

---

The girl walked into her room with a confident stride and only sighed quietly once the door was closed. Her gaze swept over the interior of the spacious, bright suite. All the furniture was styled with gold accents, matching her colors. She liked how everything was set up, but there had to be a limit. She would have preferred less gold and more warm colors to feel at home rather than under the spotlight.

She reached the vanity table with its illuminated mirror and sat down, adjusting her golden hair. Then, with careful movements, she removed the voluminous mane, leaving only short, flattened hair of the same color on her head. The fact that her natural hair wasn't long and full was the reason she had to wear a wig. She spent the next ten minutes washing off all the makeup that had become like a second skin to her.

Only then did she reach the bed, sat down, and took off her high-heeled boots. A soft moan of relief escaped her lips as soon as she got rid of the hated element of her superhero wardrobe. Sighing, she simply fell back onto the bed, finally relaxing. Yeah, this wasn't how she imagined the life of top-tier heroes. One consolation—she wasn't the only one suffering.

Her hands habitually found her smartphone and mechanically turned it on, unlocking the screen. She immediately saw messages containing links to some video. For some reason, more and more comments on her page were claiming she was a fraud. This alarmed her significantly and prompted her to quickly open the video to see what was going on.

— What the... — Annie muttered, barely stopping herself from swearing. — "Compound V"?

Chapter Text

Chapter 35

Concern. That was what I observed on the faces of my colleagues and, by extension, my subordinates. The news that a certain Compound V was being produced by Vought and could turn any human into a supe had sent society into a stupor. After all, there was no longer any "divine gift," and that idea had become as much of a myth as incorruptible bodies. Just bones, with bits of skin, diligently stuffed into wax figures. Yes, when a miracle has an explanation, it ceases to be a miracle and becomes gray, mundane reality.

The corporation's shares had plummeted and continued this dismal trend. If this persisted, coupled with negative public opinion, everything would go to hell and the corporation would suffer losses of incredible proportions. As far as I knew, right now they needed to make a statement to the press and either deny or confirm the information that they had been pumping children with some kind of crap for decades. And this situation with Vought affected almost all of its employees, including the superheroes.

Even on the face of the usually carefree Noir, there was now a look of thoughtfulness, but he was the easiest to deal with. Just like Maeve, who had long ago hardened her character to the point that such news could only cause her annoyance. They wouldn't cause any problems. However, the reaction of the others was ambiguous.

Starlight looked pale and far too preoccupied. Her blank stare into the void spoke best of the state she was in. I should talk to her after another emergency meeting, which, for some reason, were becoming more frequent over time. That boded no good.

Things were better with A-Train; the guy was clearly worried about what happened, but not enough to obsess over it. He certainly had nothing to do with the leak about the drug, as he wouldn't sabotage the work of a corporation that literally showered him with money.

The most obvious problems I saw came from The Deep, who was barely restraining the panic clawing its way out. I would have to speak with him urgently in a private setting and calm him down. He had been hit by the impact of the drug's exposure harder than anyone else present, excluding Noir.

And finally, the newcomer. Her attitude toward all of this was absolutely indifferent, as if... though no, who am I kidding? She definitely knew about the drug before this news and was likely connected in some way to Edgar’s affairs that I wasn't aware of. This was highly suspicious, and I needed to find out how Stormfront was linked to him.

"Alright, everyone is here," Stan Edgar entered the hall in person, and his appearance was remarkably animated. "First of all, I want to welcome you."

"Get straight to the point. I don't think you have that much time right now, Stan."

I politely asked him to finish this farce quickly and state the essence of the matter.

I didn't believe for a second that he would come here just like that, supposedly to maintain morale or something else. To him, every member of the Seven was just a product that brought in profit, nothing more. And his indifferent gaze with a short nod only convinced me further that he had come to ask us for something.

"Yes, I am not a frequent guest on this floor, for which I apologize. But desperate times clarify many things. Don't they?" He picked up a tablet to show a photograph of an Asian man, apparently filmed in some supermarket.

This immediately put everyone who knew about Kenji on edge. And this could not escape Stan Edgar, who noted every change in our facial expressions. He simply couldn't fail to take advantage of such a thing. And Madelyn, standing modestly in the corner, had certainly briefed him on the current situation, so he was definitely aware of everything necessary.

"We are all connected as partners... you and I are symbiotic organisms, part of the organism called Vought. That is how we overcome difficulties, as Vought," the CEO said in a well-practiced voice.

"Go on."

My voice rang out in the awkward silence as Stan waited for our reaction.

"Capturing this fugitive supervillain is a priority for us, as it will change the balance of power."

"And what, are we supposed to catch him?" A-Train smiled nervously, looking at him. "Now? We should probably talk to the lawyers first and... the PR people. Without that, the public will eat us alive."

"We don't have time."

"Sorry. But we are unlikely to go rushing headlong to find this 'supervillain' just to cover up your fuck-up," Maeve stated categorically, speaking up for the first time.

Starlight probably just couldn't find the words, while The Deep had always been the softest among us. With Black Noir, the situation was clear. He would take whichever side I took, no questions asked. The same applied to practically everyone, and they were only waiting for my decision.

"I advise you not to be so categorical," Stan smiled condescendingly. "Without Vought, you wouldn't have the benefits you currently possess."

Maeve was clearly outraged by this attitude toward her and was about to give a biting response when I finally stepped into the conversation.

"Are you trying to say that we're in the same boat? That everything we have, we have only thanks to Vought. Right, Stan?"

The older man gave me a long look and nodded silently.

"And are you sure you've come to the right place? I just don't understand why you decided that any of us owe you. Considering the news that revealed carefully hidden circumstances... at the very least, we have the right to dictate our own terms."

"Fine, what do you need?"

"An increase in percentages for everyone present, of course—let's say, by four percent. You can exclude me from the list; I have enough money."

"Me too."

Maeve joined in, looking at me suspiciously. Black Noir didn't stay on the sidelines either, raising his hand. Stan looked at this imperturbably and shifted his gaze back to me, waiting for the rest.

"Furthermore, Kenji will be kept in the tower, on the lower floors. In time, he might well become one of the superheroes or just a US citizen."

"That could be problematic."

"And that is clearly not our problem, Stan. You came here, and you came to ask, because you have no right to demand. The Seven and Vought are partners; we will catch him. But if our conditions are not met..."

"They will be met."

"I certainly hope so. Now you may go, and we will get to work."

Waiting for both of our "leaders" to leave, I turned to Maeve, who looked like she could burn a hole in my skull if she had heat vision.

"And that's it? We're just going to go and follow his orders?"

"Yes, it seems so. I won't deny it," I stood up from the chair and calmly walked to the spot where Edgar had stood before. "We could have easily refused, but in that case, they could easily put a spoke in our wheels. I don't think I need to mention that the entire analytical department works entirely for Vought. And therefore, for Stan Edgar himself. I hope we all understand the consequences of such a momentary impulse."

"Catching Kenji will be impossible, and we won't be able to effectively prevent high-profile crimes that will be covered by the media," Starlight finally spoke, quickly clarifying for those who weren't as bright what consequences awaited us in that case.

"Then, let's get to work."

With a smile, I clapped my palms together. I should take Kimiko with me to at least try and convince her younger brother to surrender at first. But if that didn't work, then I would have to use force. I would have to hope that all of this would pass without heavy damage.

***

Hughie rubbed his eyes hard, yawning deeply and periodically sipping coffee he’d bought back at the airport. For some reason, he just couldn't sleep on the plane, which is why he now had to suffer, pouring strong coffee into himself. He didn't like the stuff, but right now he needed all the alertness he could get from the drink. He would have liked to replace this popular beverage with something else, but he liked energy drinks even less.

The car moved slowly along the road, through nature reserves and farms where horses, cows, and donkeys grazed. On both sides of the road were local residents' houses, mostly single-story and clad in weatherboard. The view was decent, Hughie admitted. The drive wasn't long enough to make him finally want to fall asleep, but it was enough time to fully wake up before the meeting.

Passing a checkpoint that turned out to be empty, he drove up a small hill and parked in the lot specifically intended for prison visitors. Hughie got out of the car, looking around with interest. Cell blocks, an administrative building—it was closer to the parking lot, with huge industrial air conditioners on its roof. To the right was a large area surrounded by several rows of barbed wire—it looked like the prison yard for inmate exercise. He had seen those in many movies and TV shows back when he could still watch something on television without a care.

The visiting hall was a room a bit over two hundred square meters. Chairs and stools with numbers from one to forty stood in three rows for the prisoners, and opposite them were rows of chairs joined together like in an old movie theater for the visitors. Near each "numbered" chair were stools: inmates put drinks and food on them, bought by relatives right here from a vending machine. Any other deliveries were forbidden: inmates could only be sent books bought online or money for their prison account. Hughie had specifically looked into this before the meeting.

The duty officer told him that stool number fourteen was prepared for Billy. Heading there, he sat down opposite it. Nearby, several prisoners in identical red jumpsuits were already talking to their relatives and friends. Entering the hall, Butcher noticed him immediately. Hughie gave an awkward smile, but the prisoner only sighed. It became clear that he was the last person the Brit wanted to see. Approaching, he ignored the outstretched hand and simply sat down across from him. But instead of saying a word, Butcher just stared at him.

"How are you in here?" Hughie began, breaking the silence that had become oppressive.

"Not bad. I get the shit kicked out of me regularly."

After his words and a crooked smirk, Hughie noticed that several new scars had appeared on the man’s face that he hadn't seen before.

"Wait, they're beating you? Did Vought organize this? If..."

"I organized it myself. These little shits don't care about me, if you're talking about Vought," Butcher interrupted his verbal diarrhea. "But why are you here? Forget about me, live your life."

"If I could, I would have done exactly that," Hughie pursed his lips. "Can I buy you anything?"

"Cigarettes."

"Right, they're like currency in here." The guy gave a timid smile, to which his companion only smirked crookedly.

"What kind of bollocks are you talking? I'm just going to smoke them."

"Umm... okay."

Almost whispering the answer, Hughie spotted a cigarette machine, went over, and bought two packs of some brand. To his shame, he had no idea what people liked to smoke. And asking if he knew what cigarettes Butcher smoked wasn't even worth it. Returning, he placed both in front of the Brit.

"They'll do. How's Marvin? Is he having any trouble?"

"He's doing great. We cross paths sometimes for business." The guy's face brightened, while Butcher frowned.

"Stop that. I'm not sitting here so you lot can go put a noose around your own necks."

"We did it," Hughie ignored his words.

"What did you do?"

"Everyone knows about Compound V now. We managed to get it by blackmailing a supe..."

"And? You proud of yourself?"

Butcher's smirk immediately made him fall silent. Hughie frowned, realizing that the man didn't care about such an achievement at all.

"You can't even be happy for us."

"Living conditions don't allow for it. A tiny little room with a small window you can't even fit your hand through," the Brit huffed, looking at him with disappointment. "That's what's waiting for you if you don't stop. And if Homelander decides to take an interest in you, you're fucked. You know what they're capable of."

"They'll pay for everything. But... the legal way. I got a job with Neuman, a congresswoman who wants the same thing."

"Just don't go looking for trouble."

Hughie pursed his lips again, looking at him in silence.

"Time's up," a guard approached them, taking Butcher back. He stood up calmly and, picking up the cigarettes, headed for the exit of the hall.

"See you," Hughie muttered, feeling like he’d talked enough to last at least a couple of months.

Chapter Text

Chapter 36

Finding our fugitive wasn't difficult... or rather, finding out from the analysts where he was just a couple of minutes ago. They had been tracking him since yesterday and only withheld the information due to orders from management. Once they were given the green light, all the information on the target was delivered to our desk. Everything that happened next was a matter of technique. We only began at night, when the boy stepped away for a while.

It was expected that Kenji was hiding, likely having learned what happened to the other terrorists who were lucky enough to gain powers without turning into "somethings." It’s unclear how it even turned out that there were more than two of them. Usually, one group has a maximum of two "supervillains," as the selection is brutal—I would even say natural. Thus, failures during the creation of a supe in makeshift conditions are numerous, dozens if not more.

Now the main question was whose side Kenji was on. As far as can be judged by Mesmer’s words after a telepathy session with Kimiko, they were snatched from their home and used as cheap labor. But that doesn't change the fact that he could have simply been brainwashed. Those guys seemed to have experience with that. It would be better if he were neutral toward us. However, well-founded doubts gnaw at me that our team will get lucky here.

"Are you ready?" I turned to the Asian woman standing nearby, to which she simply nodded, not intending to lose sight of the one she was watching intently.

It was a young guy, no older than twenty. His clothes looked as if they had been taken from a dumpster, and I don't rule out that possibility. Finding and getting clothes for the homeless is very easy; there are even special places where you can drop off old things. In his hands, he carried a transparent bag of groceries that were likely stolen. He didn't seem to have any money, otherwise he wouldn't be here.

The girl didn't wait for her brother to reach the abandoned house where the homeless gathered. She simply jumped from the fifth floor and landed easily on her feet, after which she headed straight for the guy. He, in turn, had already noticed her, tensing slightly. But his fears did not come true; his sister threw herself at him and hugged him tightly.

I calmly stepped back, continuing to observe through the walls. So far, everything was just perfect; the guy was clearly happy to see her and hugged his sister back. Then they began a conversation—or rather, Kimiko communicated with signs, while Kenji answered her with words. It seemed he had grown a bit out of practice using signs, and he spoke in a language unknown to me. So following the conversation was difficult; I had to rely on facial expressions and the tone of the spoken words. Unfortunately, the results of the conversation were disappointing.

And so, failing to find a common language with her brother, Kimiko went to extreme measures while relaxing. She made a couple of signs, calming Kenji down, then hugged him again. While the boy was distracted, she pulled a special syringe from her pocket, which was immediately plunged into his shoulder. I sighed quietly as I saw the needle bend, failing to pierce the supe's skin. This meant his durability was at least at Starlight's level, which complicates everything significantly.

"Moving to Plan B," I announced with annoyance into the earpiece, contacting the others.

At that moment, Kenji frowned, and Kimiko flew off him like a ball, straight into a wall. He at least knew about the increased durability of supes, so he didn't stand on ceremony. Now he couldn't be caught so easily, so I stopped hiding and stepped to the edge. The boy noticed me immediately and frowned, seeing my red eyes.

With a characteristic pop, a blurred silhouette rushed toward the Asian man, reaching him almost instantly. But it turned out that his surprises didn't end there. He managed to notice the black speedster even on the approach and applied his abilities. This time Kenji showed that he had been holding back with his sister when A-Train’s body smashed through the wall of the fifth floor of the very house on whose roof I continued to observe everything. But I didn't worry about Reggie; he is tough enough to withstand that and even more. After that, Kenji ran inside one of the abandoned buildings, seemingly thinking it would let him hide.

"Starlight, Maeve, he went inside."

"Copy that!"

Actually, it was a fairly smart move, since catching him in an open area would have been easier. But attacking a supe this strong without preparation would be stupid and overconfident, and I didn't consider myself a total fool. Next came Starlight's turn; she stepped out right in front of him, blinding him with bright yellow light and knocking him back. It had an effect, just not the one we were counting on. Who would have thought he would master his powers so well that he could use them blind?

A second later, I watched in surprise as the floor of the building collapsed after a couple of waves of his hands. This literally crushed several drones that were filming it. Starlight barely managed to blast herself as far as possible from the epicenter of this destruction, so she was almost unhurt. A few stones falling on her could do nothing to her. I didn't know she could do that. But it seems it cost her a lot, since she chose to lie low right after. There were no energy sources nearby at all, so the blonde is out of the game for now.

Things were much worse for Maeve, who was buried under the rubble, though relatively intact. Yes, she didn't manage to knock the guy out while Starlight distracted him. From the look of it, she was fine, so she’ll be able to get out herself. But I will have to join the operation after all, if I don't want the boy to run away or worse.

"Holy shit," The Deep responded in shock, standing next to me. Black Noir was also here, along with Stormfront.

"He has great potential," I nodded to him, watching how easily he emerged from under the rubble.

"Are Maeve and Starlight okay?"

"Completely. Stormfront, with me."

Without waiting for an answer, I simply drop down, quickly covering the short distance. The brunette lands next to me, releasing lightning from her hands, which she used to propel herself and fly. Exactly at that moment, Kenji surfaced, breathing the air freely.

"Maybe you'll just surrender?" I asked just for the sake of it, perfectly understanding that the boy wouldn't give up so easily.

"Go fuck yourself!" he shouted, raising his hands. But that was all he had time to do.

Branching purple lightning pierced his body. The woman watched the victim's convulsions with a smile, feeling her superiority over him. Man, who do I have to work with? Unfortunately, such supes are not a rarity; Homelander himself was just like that.

"Stormfront."

As soon as my voice sounded, she stopped the torture, letting the boy who had fallen to the ground catch his breath. An amazing submissiveness, which is supposedly not characteristic of the newcomer. I wonder why that is?

"You're going to have to come with us, Kenji," I told the boy in a calm, even slightly bored tone, not showing my surprise. "If you don't agree right away, she will happily repeat the recent procedure, and she won't give a damn about your well-being, unlike your sister."

To confirm my words, sparks ran across my partner's fingers. The boy gritted his teeth, forcing his hands forward. At that same moment, a bolt of lightning passed through his body, nullifying all the initiative of the determined youth. Sighing, I decided to end his suffering and approached the convulsing body. Meanwhile, Stormfront finished playing the role of Palpatine, letting me finish the job. A sharp and no less precise blow landed exactly where it needed to, guaranteed to knock the boy out for at least half an hour; all that remained was to tie up his nimble little hands with something.

"Homelander! Maeve is under the rubble! We have to get her out!" Starlight screamed in panic as she reached us, having gone around the destroyed part of the building.

"She's fine. To her, these rocks are like Styrofoam; it's annoying, but it can't cause damage." I shrugged, continuing to watch the monotonous process of a very irritated heroine rising to the surface. "Are you okay?"

"Yes, completely."

"Good. The journalists will be here any minute."

The next couple of hours were spent giving interviews to various television channels. Fortunately, here I could involve the whole team to tell the details of the operation. And it went very successfully, exactly as it was planned, if you don't go into details. But for a plan that was put together in just a couple of hours, it wasn't bad. Evacuate everyone unnoticed, and then make sure no onlookers with their cameras were hanging around. It’s so good that I wasn't the one dealing with that. It was also lucky that the mere word "supervillain" has a sobering effect on people and they become very compliant. So at the time of all this destruction, none of the residents were home, which ruled out accidental casualties.

The Deep and Black Noir also came in handy. After all, if the Seven was the one that stopped the supervillain, the absence of certain team members would be suspicious at the very least. Unfortunately, on land, our underwater hero became practically useless, even vulnerable. Noir, however, didn't participate in this operation for the simple reason that we weren't planning on killing Kenji. So in terms of usefulness in this specific situation, he was on par with The Deep.

After everything was over, Stan Edgar arrived in person to speak about how necessary heroes are in our current reality. Also, about how he would investigate this entire story with Compound V, which he, of course, knew nothing about. It will be interesting to see where this "investigation" leads.

Chapter Text

Chapter 37

Measured steps slowly kicked up dust, which settled back onto the surface at the same speed. The prints of my boots pressed into it as if I were treading on firm clay. I walked freely, taking in the sights like a tourist on an excursion. Only you won't meet any people here, unless of course it’s another visit to this world-famous satellite. Yes, this was the Moon—the very one our ancestors gazed at for thousands of years, wondering what it actually was.

What am I doing here? Probably... resting, though there are some issues with breathing. I’m holding a single breath taken about two hours ago, stepping where no Homelander has stepped before. Strangely enough, that blonde had visited neither the depths of the ocean nor Earth’s satellite. As far as I can tell, he was simply afraid of suffocating and never ventured beyond orbit. Despite his absolute invulnerability, even he had fears quite understandable to ordinary people.

By my calculations, I can go without air for about eight hours. And considering it took me two hours to reach the Moon, I have four hours to spare. One good thing: I felt no discomfort from holding my breath. And there was plenty to see; the sight was truly mesmerizing. The surface wasn't uniformly gray, as we see from Earth when looking up at night. Orange soil with flecks of red—that’s what the lunar surface actually looked like.

Further on were craters and seas filled with cooled lava, the ground there covered in dark dust. But it was far more interesting to look at the stars and stripes—the flags left on this planet by the Americans. Well, only five of the six were still standing; one lay on the ground. A more surprising and unexpected find was a metal sphere, but not just any sphere. It was a ball made of pentagons, each bearing the coat of arms of the USSR and the date: September 1959. Holding it in my hands, I couldn't quite identify what I felt about it.

Thousands of people worked for years to deliver this little metal ball to the Moon, dreaming of one day sending a human here too. But those dreams were not meant to be; the state that strove to conquer new heights was gone. Meanwhile, I covered this entire distance in just a couple of hours and am simply strolling across this desolate planet like a damn tourist. There was no goal; I just wanted to fly to the Moon and take a walk. The first supe to reach the Moon by his own power alone, and yet there was no joy or even satisfaction in it. Looking at the object in my hand... I even felt a bit melancholy at how easily I had achieved it.

The sphere dropped slowly to the surface, kicking up dust. My body rose upward and accelerated toward the other sphere hanging in space. In less than two hours, I was back in orbit, bypassing space debris and entering the dense layers of the atmosphere. Unlike other aircraft, I had no trouble lowering my speed enough to avoid damaging the suit. I flew toward my home, soon landing on the green grass and taking a breath of fresh air.

"Daddy!"

Ryan practically flew outside, having apparently heard my arrival.

"Ryan!" Becca only had time to shout before her son collided with me, knocking me to the ground.

"I see you've settled in."

I ruffled his hair with a smile, watching as his worried mother dashed out the door, only calming down when she saw me.

"Yeah!" the boy shouted joyfully in response, hugging me tightly. "Mom won't let me fly without you. Let's fly together!"

"Ryan, I told you, no flying at home," Becca sighed, seemingly a bit tired from her son’s newly revealed restless nature. "He’s been waiting for you."

"I can see that. Alright, champ. Shall we fly?"

"Yay!"

The next couple of hours flew by unnoticed, spent on Ryan’s training, which was loosely disguised as games. We played tag in the forest with height restrictions, where Becca joined in too. Interestingly, she was more effective than I was, even though I wasn't using X-ray vision. The situation repeated with hide-and-seek, where the boy had to find the most unexpected places to hide. All in all, it was fun not just for the kid, but for his parents too. Most importantly, Becca realized where to put all her son's relentless energy. For next time, I should buy paintball guns to instill in him the instinct to dodge bullets. Later, we can start using air rifles as an alternative to firearms. This will be useful for Rebecca too, who needs it almost more than Ryan does.

After having lunch in the family circle, I had to leave them due to urgent business that required my personal presence. This was why I had to fly toward Vought Tower, solely to calm down certain team members who weren't very pleased with the recent news. First on the list was the one currently lying before me on the floor with an incredible amount of alcohol in his blood. It’s a miracle he didn't drown himself.

"Oh, Kevin."

My disappointed sigh had no effect on the unconscious Deep; it was lucky he hadn't gone for a walk in the city. He shouldn't have been left unsupervised. Shaking my head, I had to drag the guy out from under a mountain of liquor bottles and carry him into the bathroom, where I started dousing his head with cold water.

"Kha! Home... Khem! Homelander?"

"Rise and shine, Underwater!"

My smile was so bright that the poor guy even winced. He glanced around at the shower stall and his own appearance, noticing the absence of the top half of his suit. Kevin didn't think twice before covering his gills with his hands.

"I'm The Deep."

"Feeling shy?" I looked pointedly at the covered gills.

"I'm a freak."

"What makes you say that?"

My genuine interest surprised the guy, who clearly didn't understand if he was being mocked or not.

"I could have been a normal person, just like everyone else. If she hadn't agreed to have them inject me with that crap... Is that fair?"

"Is that how you see it?"

"How else am I supposed to see it?!" Kevin raised his voice, seemingly forgetting that he was terrified of me. He was shaking from barely suppressed tears and certainly wasn't in the mood for fear. "I was at the m-mall back then. We were walking past a pet store and I heard the goldfish begging them not to kill them, just... pleading. And after that, the beach, the aquarium, the seafood restaurant... I thought I was going crazy! But Mom said it was a gift... that I was born this way. I could have been normal..."

Tears rolled down his cheeks. This revelation had hit him very hard.

"You haven't called your mother, have you?"

"Why would I call the woman who turned me into... this?"

After those words, he froze, staring at a single point in front of him, lost in thought.

"You turned yourself into 'this' by drinking liters of alcohol," I doused his pretty face with cold water again so he would pay close attention to me. "And did she call?"

"Yes, she called," he looked down, like a child caught in a misdeed. "I didn't pick up."

"Do you remember when you first came to the tower? She was with you—a slightly plump but kind woman," I smiled at him, patting his shoulder. "Gloria was praising you so much and begging me for an autograph for you, since you were my biggest fan."

"You were always a role model for me, sir." The guy completely broke down, almost crying because his idol remembered all of this.

"I know, Kevin. And I also know that Gloria had no choice, and you shouldn't blame her."

"What do you mean?" He finally raised his head, looking at me with a question in his eyes.

"You were a sickly child, born prematurely, and you had problems... with your lungs." With every word, the guy's face elongated with shock and realization. "Your father left before you were born, and your relatives couldn't do anything to help. That's when the people from Vought came to offer salvation."

"So..."

"You wouldn't have lived a month if your mother hadn't agreed. She even refused the money they offered her. She only needed you to be able to live a full life."

"I... I didn't know," tears poured from his eyes, but he covered his face with his hands, no longer embarrassed by his gills. "I really didn't know."

"You're not a freak, Kevin. Just as I'm not a freak, and neither is anyone else. We are all just victims of circumstances." I patted his back, having done all I could. "You need to rest... for a week. Go home, talk to Gloria."

"Thank you," his muffled voice came through.

"Don't forget to say that to your mother; she'll be happy."

***

Leaving the guy alone with himself, I walked out of his room and headed for the next team member. I found her in the training room, pummeling a steel mannequin that barely had half its body left. Maeve had clearly overdone it, and she was very offended—so much so that she moved on to the next one, beginning to beat it mercilessly as well.

"Are you busy?"

My voice was drowned out by the woman's huffing and the ringing of metal that simply couldn't withstand her blows. Rolling my eyes at being ignored, I walked up to the mannequin and stood behind it, right in front of her.

"Bug off," she exhaled, continuing the beating.

"You're mad at me," I stated, tilting my head to the left. "What are you so unhappy about? Almost nothing has changed, and we won't have to look for jobs."

"Ha!" With a warrior cry, she suddenly kicked toward the head, intentionally hitting me, which pushed me slightly to the right.

There was no pain, but I didn't find it pleasant either. Stepping away from the mannequin, I walked up behind her, deciding not to stand directly in front of her.

"You made a deal with them!" With that shout, she threw an elbow at the mannequin's head, simply knocking it off.

"And you wanted me to start a war with them?" She continued to land blows on the now headless mannequin, and I slapped her on her firm backside. "Just relax."

The moment I got distracted admiring the monotonous process, my head was pressed against the chest of the heroine's armored bra as she diligently applied a chokehold, dragging me along so I wouldn't have time to recover. But given my ability to hold my breath, such a hold wouldn't have worked anyway. So I calmly lifted her by the butt, shoved a hand between her legs, and then slammed her hard onto the floor.

"What if I wanted war?" Maeve frowned, looking up at me.

"My decision was final," I leaned down toward her. "You're not a little girl anymore; you should understand the consequences."

A kick caught me square in the head, disorienting me for a second and bringing me to my knees. But I wasn't allowed to get up; she simply threw her entire weight onto my back to pin me to the floor.

"So that's how you justify your selfishness?" she growled back, preventing me from standing up.

"Really?"

Using a split-second hesitation, I managed to brace my hands and began to roll across the floor. Maeve didn't let up, trying not to lose her grip on me. But in the end, I managed to break free and almost pin her to her back before she managed, in some way unknown to me, to end up on top of me, pinning my arms to the floor with her thighs.

"You don't give a damn about the people whose lives will be ruined because of this drug. What if they continue to produce it and create new supes?! Those are children, John!"

"That won't happen."

"And where are the guarantees?"

"It's no longer profitable for Vought. It's much more lucrative to work with the military than to constantly create people like us."

"So they go unpunished."

"It seems so. We could punish them, but by doing so, we would cause incredible consequences. All the misdeeds of people like us would become public knowledge, and we likely wouldn't be able to escape condemnation either." I patiently explained how I saw the future problems with her approach. "People like us will start being thrown in prisons, superhero activity will be banned. And where would they go then?"

"They could become criminals..."

"You saw what one person who doesn't hold back is capable of. What happens when there are dozens of them? Vought is a necessary evil, without which chaos begins."

Silence fell as she contemplated my words, and I, in turn, didn't interfere.

"I hate it when you're right," Maeve sighed and stood up, heading for the exit with confident steps.

"Does that mean we've settled this matter?" In response, I only heard the sound of the door slamming, which had only one explanation for me. "Silence is a sign of consent."

Well, at least I can now be sure there won't be some shocking revelation from Maeve in the news. That means all that's left is to talk to Annie. And I even know where we can talk.

Chapter Text

Chapter 38

The night city. Noisy, restless, the crowd moving in a dense flow like an anthill, disgorging lives to the left and right. There is no point talking about the beauty of a city when you cannot take a single step without bumping into yet another tourist. Debris everywhere, the foul stench of cheap fast food; only the rain helps to provide a sense of detachment from it all, falling in heavy drops onto the asphalt. It was pleasant to breathe in that specific scent of the earth that one never tires of.

"Do you like the rain?"

"I love it, but I prefer to be under an umbrella."

Laughter rang out in response, though it sounded somewhat forced. I turned to look at Starlight, who was in full gear. Her suit, by the way, had become higher quality, not as cheap-looking as it had been before. Now she looked not only innocent but also striking. Lately, the demand for her advertisements and merchandise had increased, and not in the least because of this change. She walked to the window and stood beside me to look at the neighboring building I had been observing.

"So, that is where the drug dealers have set up shop?"

Her gaze was fixed on the basement, where a tall Black thug in a leather jacket stood by the entrance. He had a pistol tucked into his waistband. I hope he at least engaged the safety. Actually, no, he didn't. If not for the lack of a neat short beard, he could easily have been mistaken for Mother’s Milk. Very similar, except this one was even more incompetent in handling firearms.

"Arrogant guys, they appeared in the city quite recently. Perhaps they mistakenly believe they can hide in a city patrolled by the Seven."

"And this apartment from which they were being watched?" She looked around the dark room of the one-bedroom flat.

"No, they weren't being watched from here."

"So, this place has nothing to do with surveilling criminals?"

"Correct. I rented this place so we would be more comfortable," I shrugged at her surprised look. "I checked the weather forecast."

"It seems the choice was more of a necessity."

The girl's face contorted with suppressed loathing as she directed her gaze toward the bed. A few minutes ago, she had spotted a pair of large cockroaches there, which had been promptly fried by her light blasts. She hadn't approached the furniture since, and I didn't mention that nearly fifty of them lived in there. I didn't want to agitate her further, especially given the bloodstains on the floor. And those weren't just droplets, but full-fledged puddles. The careless attempt to hide them with an old rug had failed.

"Spot on."

"Fine, let's get back to the mission," she said, practically jumping with anticipation. "How many are in there?"

"Thirty people. It is quite crowded."

"That will do. I feel like blowing off some steam anyway."

Starlight's eyes glowed with a dim light, and a predatory smile appeared on her lips. She was clearly out of sorts, though she tried not to show it. And she was doing a good job of it, I had to admit.

"I won't get in the way; I'll stand off to the side. I have nothing to offer against such momentum."

"Thank you," she smiled at my simple joke. "I intend to make the most of it."

A minute later, we were heading down the stairs, after which we stepped outside and walked calmly toward the basement. To be honest, neither I nor she had the desire to show off. Thus, the thug was greatly surprised by the heroes in bright costumes walking confidently toward him on this gloomy evening.

"Good evening, young man. Would you like to talk about the Great Old One, the master of worlds, sleeping at the bottom of the Pacific Ocean—Cthulhu?"

The thug's reaction was expected, but no less hilarious for it. Such a face, devoid of all reason, cannot be faked.

"Stop it!" The girl's elbow struck my side, though she herself was barely suppressing a smile.

"Well, I can hardly mention Nyarlathotep, can I? He is merely a messenger!" I protested sincerely, not forgetting to rub the "bruised" spot.

"Wha?"

The extremely letter-deficient response disappointed us both, but we didn't lose our enthusiasm.

"No, Homelander," the blonde sighed, shaking her head. "We won't get any understanding from him. We should just get straight to the point."

"Fine. My partner, Starlight, is currently extremely irritated by recent events and wished, as she put it, to blow off some steam. And I decided your den would be perfectly suitable for these purposes."

Silence was the only reply.

"I think he still hasn't recovered from the previous questions," Starlight suggested, seeing the man's complete confusion. She decided to change the subject. "Is there going to be filming?"

"There won't be any; I've made arrangements. But please, no killing," at my words, the blonde literally beamed. "Though in fact, they are entirely at your mercy."

"Did you hear that, big guy? Respect my authority!"

Shouting the last sentence like a war cry, the fragile girl technically delivered a knee to the stomach. This was followed by an elbow to the jaw, which definitely knocked out the man, who was doubled over in pain, for a long time.

"Not bad." I nodded, appraising the unconscious body that fell onto the concrete floor. Fortunately, there was a mat there.

"Thanks."

We entered like civilized people, simply opening the unlocked door. We even said hello to the first person we encountered before my partner sent him to sleep. The same happened to the next three until we were finally discovered. That's when things got fun.

Starlight began tossing every person she met into the next one, like knocking down bowling pins. Flying bandits, bright golden flashes, and sparks all over the basement. And of course, what would a scene be without automatic gunfire in a confined space? Most of the criminals will certainly hear much worse than before. Ear trauma is no joke, especially for ordinary people. For me, it is more of an annoying factor during the work process; judging by Starlight's appearance, the same could be said for her. At least she isn't at risk of blindness, which is more than can be said for the criminals.

Deciding not to interfere with the lady tossing and beating the drug dealers, I stepped back to the wall and leaned my shoulder against it. Better to be a spectator of this performance than an unnecessary participant. There was something captivating about how the girl beat the shit out of the bad guys. You can't say the same about a man when he maims other men. It must be the flexibility inherent to the female sex.

Unfortunately, it all ended quickly. Not because she managed to beat everyone, but because the remaining handful simply surrendered to justice and showed every bit of respect for her authority. In the end, the police arrived and cuffed everyone, while we managed to vanish before the reporters appeared. So the vultures of the press will have to gather information from eyewitnesses and tight-lipped police officers. Meanwhile, we relocated to a park, where we decided to eat some junk food.

"God, this is so delicious!" Starlight loudly expressed her delight, not even finished chewing the bite of shawarma.

"Don't choke," I replied phlegmatically a few seconds later, not following her example.

"Okay, daddy."

Smiling at me, she poked me with her elbow again. My indignation knew no bounds!

"What was that for this time?"

"What are you up to?" she asked with suspicion in her eyes, not looking away.

"Am I up to something?"

"You can't answer a question with a question!"

"Who said that?"

"Those are elementary rules of etiquette," came the convinced reply.

"Then how am I supposed to dodge questions I don't want to answer?"

"Inventively."

"So Jews are allowed, but I'm not?"

"Are you Jewish?"

"What, a man can't even dream now?"

"You did it again," she smiled, and we sat in silence for a while. "Still, though?"

"I wanted to see if you were okay."

"I am definitely okay." She pursed her lips, showing her dissatisfaction.

"What happened... it is a lot of stress. You shouldn't keep it all inside."

"Moonlighting as my psychologist now?" Starlight responded with annoyance, furling her brows.

"Something like that. I hope you don't mind," I smiled at her, choosing to ignore her long, heavy sigh. "Don't worry, I don't charge much."

"How can you be so carefree?"

"It is easiest for me; I knew that even when I had barely turned twenty."

"And you didn't tell me!"

"Ah! There was a hint, though." The smile didn't leave my lips.

"That doesn't count!"

"That doesn't count either? Let me guess—etiquette?"

"Only women have that privilege!"

"No, I won't back down this time."

"Stubborn," Annie snorted, sighing heavily again.

This time the silence lasted much longer, which was still better than meaningless talk on abstract topics. Also, this time could be spent eating the shawarma, which had managed to cool down slightly. I was lucky that I actually like it better that way. I didn't have to waste my heat vision warming up the food. Therefore, the unholy food of the gods was consumed by me in the shortest time, not counting the moments I spent enjoying the taste.

"I had a fight with my mom. Because of... all of this."

"Did she confess?"

"On the very first day."

She reached into her bag and pulled out a very ordinary pipe, in a classic style. She looked at the object as if it meant much more to the girl than just a tool for smoking.

"It seems this object has a history," I stated calmly. "Will you share it with me?"

"My father loved to smoke from this pipe," Annie said thoughtfully, not taking her eyes off the object. "I loved to watch him do it. He enjoyed it so much after a hard day's work. And afterward, he would clean it carefully so it could rest. I had no idea what that meant back then."

She paused in her story to gather her courage. It was truly difficult for her to discuss such things, especially with a stranger. And I didn't rush her, waiting in silence for her to continue.

"Dad loved me, but he left. I even stole his pipe and hid it, hoping he would come back for it and never leave again. And now I understand why he left," the blonde continued with conviction. "He was ashamed of what he had turned me into. And he simply couldn't live with that realization, being near me."

"My... creator hates me." I decided to speak up, since it was a day for revelations.

"What?" Starlight looked at me in shock.

"Dr. Vogelbaum. He created me in a test tube. Without his involvement, I wouldn't have been born."

"But why does he hate you? Why did he torture you?" She remembered the recent conversation about the same man.

"That is why he hates me, because I remind him that he failed."

"What does that mean?" Annie asked in confusion, looking at me with concern.

"I grew up cruel and cynical, even if you don't see it in public."

"I don't think so," the girl countered, looking me seriously in the eyes. "It isn't for a man like this Vogelbaum to decide whether you are cruel or not. He became a monster in human form himself by subjecting you to such torture."

"Perhaps you are right about all of that. But there is a grain of truth in his judgment nonetheless."

"So? It doesn't change anything, and it won't change my opinion, or that of any other member of the Seven."

"You certainly know how to give an encouraging speech," I noted, eliciting a smile from her.

"I was taught to do that since I was a child. Diction and singing were at the top of the list, after dancing. You have to know how to dance to win at pageants for super kids," Annie finished with a sour expression, shoving the smoking pipe back into her bag.

"I am sure you dance well. And you fully deserved those awards you received for it. You did receive awards, didn't you?"

"Of course I did, what kind of question is that?" The girl looked at me indignantly, and the streetlights around us even flickered for a second.

"Just clarifying. In any case, the main thing is that you are okay."

"I think I need to talk to my mom... face to face."

"Can you handle it yourself?"

"I'm not a little girl. I'll manage somehow!" the blonde stated expressively, only to add more quietly: "I just need to cool down."

"And that's everything?"

"I think so." The girl shrugged, looking at me expectantly.

"So, you don't want to cause a scandal and won't be sobbing on live TV about your difficult lot in life?"

"I guess not," the girl smiled mischievously. "Should I? If necessary, I can do a fine impression of offended innocence."

"Well, if you don't want to, then you shouldn't." I shrugged, not biting on the provocation.

"Fine." Annie nodded and pursed her lips, looking at the remaining piece of shawarma. "Maybe we should get seconds?"

"Great idea."

I agreed thoughtfully, considering finding a place where we could sit down comfortably. I felt like having tea with milk and three spoons of sugar. Just right for relaxing during a conversation in the company of a pretty girl.

Chapter Text

Chapter 39

The simple cafe, which was nearly empty at this hour, became a quite cozy place to spend time in the company of a beautiful heroine. We didn't bother taking off our costumes, simply giving autographs and taking selfies for anyone who asked. It wasn't done without the condition that the video and photo materials would only be published on the internet after our departure. I imagine that soon the establishment will see an increase in patrons once the photograph of me and Starlight is hung on the wall.

"And here are the donuts!" the waitress said with a smile, placing the plates before us. She had set to work with great enthusiasm after our appearance in the cafe. "Enjoy your meal!"

"She's definitely a fan of ours," Annie informed me in a whisper, taking a sip of her coffee. Disgusting drink, by the way. Cold milk was much better and certainly tastier.

"What? Really? And I thought she was just very attentive after she walked past for the tenth time asking if we needed anything," I rolled my eyes, showing my attitude toward the situation.

"You're too hard on her. It's not every day Homelander walks into a regular cafe."

"Feeling like the object of dirty fantasies isn't so pleasant when you literally see it in a person's eyes."

"I hadn't looked at it from that perspective," Annie admitted, looking abashed. She picked up a sweet treat and took a bite.

She moaned with pleasure, closing her eyes. Catching my surprised look, the blonde carefully put the donut back, licking her lips.

"What?"

"You eat that donut with such appetite... if I saw that in an advertisement, I'd buy it without a second thought."

"Thank you... Was that a compliment?"

"Certainly not a complaint," I chuckled, trying a similar pastry. Only after thoroughly tasting it did I decide to deliver a verdict. "No, just an ordinary donut. Not bad, but a bit too sweet."

"Sweets were forbidden in our house; my mom kept a close eye on that. But my dad... he loved breaking that rule behind her back. Usually, he’d buy me donuts with chocolate glaze."

"Sounds like he was a decent father."

"Yeah, he definitely was," the girl mused, taking a sip of fresh coffee. "Did you see Stormfront's address on the internet?"

"I don't follow her on social media."

"Then you'll find this interesting to watch," Annie stated, handing me her phone.

With a skeptical expression, I looked at the smartphone screen. No sooner do I deal with one problem than another pops up. On the screen was a video message that Stormfront hadn't been too lazy to record.

"Are we just going to wait until someone dies?! I'm already tired of shouting about this at Vought! And what are they doing to prevent attacks? Jack shit! Let's try to get through to them. Tomorrow, we gather at Vought Square."

I simply couldn't wrap my head around it after watching—how could they allow her to do this? Usually, in such situations, these initiatives should be nipped in the bud so the initiator doesn't do anything stupid. Yet, people's interest in this is understandable; after all, you don't see this every day. And apparently, Vought is perfectly fine with it.

"What do you think?"

"It's not yet clear to me what Stan Edgar is trying to achieve by creating an opposition within the company."

"So Stormfront is doing everything at the CEO's bidding?" the blonde frowned.

"Exactly. It's possible he wants to create a controlled opposition, a fiction," I took a sip from my glass, giving my companion time to realize what was happening right under her nose. "He's a smart man. If he weren't, he wouldn't have risen to such a position."

"And I believed her," Annie muttered with annoyance, likely feeling more foolish than she actually was.

"Almost everyone believed her. You could only catch on through a few details that only a couple of people know about," I pointed out the obvious fact.

"That doesn't change the fact that she gets away with everything."

"Vought's support is no joke; I'd be more surprised if she failed."

The conversation was interrupted by the persistent ringing of my smartphone, with Stillwell's name flashing on the screen. Sighing, I picked up and put the phone to my ear.

"Get to the tower. Now."

As soon as those words were spoken, she brazenly hung up. I looked at the screen in confusion, then shifted my gaze to the interested blonde.

"I'm forced to leave your company." I gave a strained smile, to which she nodded seriously.

"I understand."

"Goodbye, Starlight."

"Definitely, John," she winked, whispering my name.

Nodding, I stood up from the table and headed for the exit. Then came the usual flight, which lasted less than two minutes, after which I was already on the required floor. I didn't wait for the elevator, using the stairs where flying wasn't prohibited. And there, the door to Stillwell's office burst open, revealing a tense woman staring at the television.

Involuntarily, I joined her, watching the riots unfolding on live TV. People were waving flags, throwing stones, and arming themselves with sticks. All of this was set against the backdrop of the U.S. Embassy, where the crowd's full rage was directed. It hadn't come to murder yet, but that certainly wouldn't take long.

"You need to fly there," the woman finally spoke, drawing my attention.

"What is the army for, then, if they can't disperse them?"

"Right now they don't have personnel available who can get there in such a short time. Every minute counts."

"It's the army; surely there's someone?"

"I don't know all the details, but things are heated for them elsewhere. They can't spare the people," Madelyn sighed, giving in to emotion. "The whole world is watching; the situation is worsening. And the only one who can resolve this quickly is standing right in front of me trying to dodge his responsibilities."

"Fine, what needs to be done?" I surrendered under such arguments.

"Fly there and stop this disgrace. Ideally, disperse the crowd. If not, hold them until the military arrives. Most importantly, make sure there are no casualties."

"Understood."

I flew out of the building immediately, deciding to finish this business as quickly as possible. Scaring the crowd would be easy, especially with my capabilities, which every dog knows about. Afterward, I can fly home; filming starts in a couple of days, and I'll be disappearing on set for days on end. There will be no time left for Ryan at all.

With the sound of a shockwave, I landed sharply on one knee right in front of the embassy, silencing the gathered rioters. Standing up, I carefully scanned their worried faces. They clearly recognized me and understood perfectly well that their only option now was to disperse. Grunting, I looked at the embassy itself, with its smashed windows. The gates weren't heavily damaged and hadn't been breached in those few minutes.

"Alright, the fun is over. You can go home now." I turned to the crowd, clapping my hands.

The people flinched but didn't move an inch. They were clearly serious when they came here. A man standing in front of me shouted something menacingly, echoed by the others. To be honest, I didn't understand a thing they said in their language. Consequently, I had no idea about the crowd's goal. So all I could do was look at them with skepticism in my gaze. Just for fun, I took a step forward, causing a large group of people to move back. Terror was easily readable in their eyes. It reminded me of puppies that could only yap, but the moment you approached, they immediately ran away with their tails between their legs.

A smile appeared on my face, causing the man who had been shouting to clench his fist. But he wasn't going to fight. No, he shouted something again in his language, in which, for once, a familiar word sounded. I recognize the word "Allah" anywhere, and accordingly, I could make a rough guess as to why they gathered here. The man actively helped me by pointing at me, constantly repeating the same thing. The crowd joined him without question.

Religion... understanding came to me. What else? Of course, everything is tied to religion, and Compound V is to blame. They're probably accusing me of being a false god created by the devil or someone else. It's all banally simple. Sighing, I rolled my eyes at the primitive thinking of these people; it was useless to argue with such types. And dispersing them without using force wouldn't be possible in principle, so I'd have to wait for the military. This couldn't help but sour my mood.

"I'm so sick of this," I furrowed my brows, looking at the spitting locals who decided to go against a country with nuclear weapons.

Cowardly bugs, good only for screaming and falling into hysterics. But as soon as someone stronger than them appeared, all their bravery and arrogance vanished. These faces aroused disgust in me, contempt, as if for some loathsome creature. And the noise they made was doubly irritating. One of them seemed to regain his spirit so much that he threw a stone at me. And strangely enough, he hit.

"I'm not letting this go, you arrogant monkey," I hissed through clenched teeth and walked straight toward the insolent man, easily pushing through the crowd.

A couple of seconds later, I reached the smiling freak who looked at me with defiance. The people crowded around moved back to get a better view. And I only grew angrier, realizing he knew about the cameras filming everything. My hand clenched into a fist, and a burning hatred flared up in my chest, demanding an immediate outlet. And you know what? I know where to release it.

"AAAAAAHH!!!" Everything was drowned out in a woman's hysterical shriek when my fist met the dirty animal's jaw.

The lower jaw was simply torn from his face, with sprays of blood. I saw the shock on the face of this brat, who only just realized what happened. The fear on the faces of this stupid cattle who didn't take the chance to just leave. The freak's body fell to the ground, soaking the earth with blood. He'll live, but he won't be able to eat solid food. A smile appeared on my face just imagining the picture.

But it didn't end there. This crowd was just as brainless as the trash lying on the ground. They followed his example and began throwing stones at me despite what they had seen. Now I was truly convinced of the opinion that before me was biological waste that didn't deserve to live. My eyes glowed bright red, and a heat beam mercilessly passed through their bodies with squelching sounds. The screams of these animals didn't bother me; my rage seemed to drown it all out. And the red beam pierced their bodies so easily that I was almost sorry their deaths were so swift.

A couple of seconds later, I stood in a circle of corpses and grimaced with a sense of loathing. My feet pushed off the ground, and my body rose a couple of meters so I could see the whole picture. Heavenly punishment had overtaken the filthy animals who decided they could push me around. I was satisfied with the work done, except my rage wouldn't die down, as if sustained by something.

This realization immediately put me on guard, and I felt something. Something was as if penetrating my head, and only now was I able to notice it when no other irritants remained. My head automatically turned toward one of the rooftops where a man stood, watching me intently. The moment our eyes met, genuine fear was reflected in his. Meanwhile, the rage receded very quickly, allowing me to think freely.

"How dare you?!" At my shout, the windows rattled and the alarms of nearby cars went off.

Now I was truly angry. The bearded lover of brain-probing tried to flee, heading toward the stairs. But my body blocked his path, and my eyes were ready to burn a hole in him at any moment. He backed away, yet still tried to use his powers on me again. Again I felt his presence, and a fear of him that gradually intensified. Except for one thing he didn't count on: now I was aware of him.

"Not this time, you bastard."

With a single act of will, I threw him out of my head, causing him to shriek and grab his skull. Taking pity on him, I decided to help him a little in such a difficult task, placing my palms over his hands. With relish, I heard every little crack appearing in his skull, reveled in his screams, and continued to press. Until the head burst, splashing bits of his brains onto my face. Now, I was truly satisfied.

Chapter Text

Chapter 40

I opened my eyes to find a smooth white ceiling staring back at me. Lying on the couch, I gazed upward without blinking, like some sort of robot for whom such a thing causes no discomfort. I miss that feeling—when your eyes begin to sting slightly—but now it feels as if I have glass in my sockets instead of eyes. It’s frustrating; such a small thing, yet its absence brings a wave of disappointment.

"Sir, you haven't answered my question," the man persisted. He was sitting in a chair, scribbling something down.

I couldn't even be bothered to look at whatever chicken-scratch he was putting to paper. I never could decipher doctors' handwriting, and this four-eyed intellectual had introduced himself as exactly that: a doctor. So, there was no point.

"It hurts. I am repentant, and I desperately want to offer my apologies to the families of those to whom I caused such grief," I replied in an utterly lifeless, bored tone, favoring the man with a glance that lasted all of a second.

"That is very good. It speaks of you as an incredibly sensitive person," the man smiled. He was supposed to be a psychologist, I think. I stopped listening to anything after his name.

"A product."

"I beg your pardon?"

"As a sensitive product," I obligingly repeated for the hard of hearing. "That is why you are here. To check if the product is broken. To see if it can remain in operation."

"And what do you think about that?"

"I am waiting for your verdict. It doesn't matter what I think; what matters is what you write in your report. And that is important for you personally."

"Personally for me?"

With a heavy sigh, I sat up and looked this slow-witted "expert" in the eye. A fire burned in my gaze—one that would leave nothing but a wet spot where the doctor sat if I so desired. It seemed the sight made an impression on him.

"If I am dragged from one doctor to another in an attempt to fix what is already working perfectly well... I will be displeased. Do we understand each other?"

"I suppose we do." He adjusted his glasses with trembling hands, giving a shallow nod.

"Excellent, Doc." I smiled at him, ceasing the glow of my arguments.

I flopped back onto the couch, staring at the ceiling. I had this sudden urge to just bury myself in the ground and go into hibernation. How did I even stand all this pressure? Shoveling all the shit that incompetent bastard left behind for me. Trying to somehow come to terms with the fact that I am now the most powerful being on Earth. Well, for now.

The doctor had long since left without even saying goodbye. I continued to watch what was happening above. My vision opened up to everything the tower employees were doing. It was a curious sight, like watching ants during a peak work cycle. One could get lost in it for a long time.

"You shouldn't have frightened the man who wanted to help you," an older Black man said as he entered, eyeing me from head to toe.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Really? The wet patch on his trousers was far more eloquent," Stan Edgar smiled, adjusting his tie. "That meeting is certainly one he will remember for the rest of his life."

"Get straight to the point. Enough small talk."

"As you wish. I came here to tell you that you should end this farce."

"Farce?"

"No one is holding you here; on the contrary, everyone would be much calmer if you stepped out of this room and took a walk around the tower. Uncertainty is more frightening than knowledge." The man watched my reaction closely, analyzing every twitch of my face. "At such a difficult moment for Vought, there is no need to breed rumors. Otherwise, people might decide that you truly are the one guilty for what happened."

"And am I not?"

I stood up abruptly and closed the distance between us in a couple of steps, meeting his gaze. But there was no fear in his eyes—only boredom and... disappointment.

"I thought you had become a man of stronger will, but it seems I was mistaken." He removed his expensive glasses and began to wipe them with a handkerchief. "You wouldn't have done such a thing in front of the cameras. Naturally, you are not the guilty party. Were it otherwise... the conversation would be handled differently."

"Gratifying to hear. I hope the press isn't waiting outside?"

"You know perfectly well the answer is no. I have no desire to shoot myself in the foot, and I suggest you don't either. Try not to draw too much attention and watch the news about yourself as little as possible so you don't lose control of your emotions. In your case, that would only make the situation worse."

"I'll try."

"And please, settle your team down. I would prefer the situation not escalate due to their potential antics."

"Is Madelyn not managing?"

"I didn't say that."

"So, she's not fit for the job?"

"You have considerably diminished her authority in the eyes of your team," the CEO confirmed cryptically. "Now you are their leader—a full-fledged one, after all these years."

"As if I wasn't before," I snorted, met with an entirely serious stare.

"But you never accepted responsibility for them. It is pleasant to see you changing for the better."

Watching the old man walk toward the exit, I couldn't shake the thought that this time, I had been played perfectly. And I needed to fix that, urgently.

"Stan, one more thing," I called out, stopping him as he reached the cell exit. "Are you certain you had no hand in what happened?"

A silence fell—one that could truly be described as oppressive. The old man’s back tensed, as if he felt the heat of eyes burning with fire. Though why "as if," when the heat was real?

"If that were the case, I wouldn't have come here in person," the man replied without turning around. Then he calmly continued on his way.

"True enough," I muttered to his back, letting the glow in my eyes fade. "But you definitely know something."

Unfortunately, it wasn't that simple. Stan wasn't involved, which meant the organizer of this entire mess still had to be found. And there definitely was an organizer; everything had aligned far too perfectly for me to just happen to be there. Perhaps a second conversation with the CEO in a private setting could clear up the ambiguity. But for now, a difficult talk with the team awaited me, followed by Becca and Ryan. If only I could figure out the goal of all this; the rest might come to light afterward.

I took the usual route toward the conference room, noticing the glances—far too frequent. Everyone already knew. The whole world had seen me carve through a crowd of hundreds with my heat vision. It had likely been shown on every news channel in existence. If the employees here used to look at me with indifference or admiration, now there was only caution and fear in their eyes. At best, they avoided eye contact; at worst, they simply fled to stay out of my sight.

"From idol to monster in just one wrong step," I declaimed to the empty hall, dropping into the chair at the center of the table.

For a while, I just rocked back and forth, simply trying to occupy myself. The Seven wouldn't gather for another hour, giving me some time to think over my speech. But nothing was coming to mind, so I just messed around. This time, I decided to take Stan Edgar's advice and didn't check what the news was saying about me. I already knew well enough, but for my peace of mind, it was best to be cautious. I’m afraid I haven't quite recovered from the... shock, I suppose.

The doors opened, admitting two men, though for one of them, the term "man" was a bit of a stretch. The doors closed behind them, leaving them alone with me. They were incredibly nervous; it was obvious to the naked eye. They were probably imagining me burning through them with heat vision. For people in their profession, a vivid imagination is a requirement, so they’d manage that easily enough.

"Hello, sir. We were told you were here."

Adam Bourke took the lead, the head of the duo and the director of the upcoming film.

"As you can see, I am," I smiled at them both welcomingly.

"We brought the revised script."

Seth stepped forward, placing a folder in front of me. He held himself with dignity, though his trembling legs gave his fear away completely. The director was the same.

"Excellent. Did you take our notes into account?"

"Yes, of course. Starlight is the protagonist now, so the audience can identify with her. It was a brilliant idea, and we’ve run with it!" Adam announced with enthusiasm, waving his arms in his usual fashion. "So many new scenes!"

"I believe you."

I nodded, skimming through a couple of dozen pages. It took at least four minutes, during which the writers waited with bated breath for my verdict. It turned out quite well, I had to admit. They certainly knew how to write, and there was very little Homelander in it. That was a relief.

"I think the script will be approved by everyone."

"And did you like it?" Adam asked, clearly wanting a final word.

"Yes, I liked it. When can you start filming?"

"We can start tomorrow; the sets are ready."

"Excellent. Get to it."

"Yes, sir!"

With eyes lit with excitement, Adam snapped to attention, saluting. Seth, on his left, watched this with a look of utter resignation. It seemed Bourke pulled stunts like this often.

"At ease, Adam. You may go." I smiled, finding his performance quite amusing.

"Wait, sir. I... we wanted to say that we don't believe what they're saying on the news," Adam said firmly, dropping the act.

"You simply couldn't have done such a thing, not under any circumstances," Seth added, stepping up beside him.

"And what exactly are they saying on the news?"

The two of them exchanged a glance, apparently thinking I’d been doing nothing but watching news reports about myself. I have to admit, the temptation had been there.

"They're saying you killed a hundred people in cold blood. And... there’s a video. But we think it’s a fake! You can do so much with computers these days—who would know better than us?"

"Then my words will surprise you." I smirked at them, leaning in slightly. "It’s all true. The absolute truth. You haven't been misled."

"But... how? Why?"

"A telepathic supervillain. Extremely powerful. He managed to take control of the entire crowd, and then me. I barely managed to break free of his control."

"So, you caught him?" Adam asked hopefully. "That will clear you of all charges!"

Hearing his words, I felt a pang of regret over my impulsive act. How hard would it have been to just knock the little prick out? That would have solved everything.

"Unfortunately, I couldn't take that risk. He’s dead."

"That’s not good."

I know that already, you geniuses.

"Agreed. I think we’ll end the conversation there. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, sir."

They both obeyed without a word, leaving the room. And I still had to decide what kind of speech to give the team. Uplifting and patriotic, or bleakly pessimistic? A tough choice. I’ll figure it out as I go.