New Jersey, factory ruins.
Homelander crawled out from the rubble, his chest still aching. It wasn't an external injury—it was something inside him being torn apart, and the sensation was getting worse.
He glanced at his palm. The purple patterns beneath his skin were still glowing, but dimmer than before.
His power was fading.
More precisely, it was being suppressed.
Homelander clenched his fist, his knuckles cracking. He tested his heat vision—red light surged from his eyes, but its power was only half of what it used to be.
Damn it.
He shot into the sky, activating his super hearing. The entire world was cursing him—but he no longer cared.
Vought had ruined him. So he would destroy everything Vought had.
London headquarters, Paris branch, Berlin media center, Tokyo office… not a single one would be spared.
Homelander accelerated toward the Atlantic. A sonic boom exploded behind him, leaving a white trail across the ocean surface.
---
Pentagon, War Room.
Red alarms blared throughout the chamber. On the screens, Homelander's flight path was tracked—his speed exceeding Mach 2.
"He's heading for London," the Secretary of Defense said grimly.
"F-22s are airborne. Twelve of them," the Chairman of the Joint Chiefs reported.
"Can they handle him?"
"…We don't know. Vought's files claim he can withstand nuclear weapons—but we've never tested that."
The Secretary fell silent for a few seconds.
"Fire."
Thirty thousand feet above the Atlantic.
A squadron of twelve F-22s flew in formation, radar locked onto a high-speed target.
"Target confirmed. Distance: fifty kilometers."
"AIM-120 ready."
"Launch."
Six missiles detached from the wings, streaking forward with blazing white trails.
Homelander saw them.
To him, the missiles were as slow as snails. He stopped midair, hovering with arms spread wide.
Boom—
Six fireballs erupted, shockwaves scattering the surrounding clouds.
When the smoke cleared, Homelander was completely unharmed.
He looked up at the jets, eyes glowing red. Heat vision lanced out—three F-22s exploded instantly, wreckage plunging into the sea.
The remaining jets pulled up, trying to escape.
Too late.
Homelander caught up, punching straight through a cockpit. The pilot didn't even have time to react before the jet exploded midair.
Three minutes later, all twelve F-22s had been destroyed.
Homelander continued toward London.
---
Manhattan, Vought temporary command center.
Queen Maeve stood by the window, watching the live broadcast. Military jets were as fragile as paper in front of Homelander.
"We have to do something," Starlight said as she approached, her voice firm.
"Do what? You think we can stop him?"
"I don't know. But someone has to try."
"That someone won't be you. You've only been here three months—you're no match for him."
"So we just let him keep killing people?"
Maeve fell silent.
Starlight didn't wait for an answer. She turned and walked out.
Maeve took two steps after her, then stopped. She couldn't stop her. This 23-year-old girl was too stubborn—she still believed heroes were meant to protect people.
On TV, Homelander had already reached London.
Vought's European headquarters was a forty-story glass tower by the Thames.
Homelander crashed straight through the top floor.
Glass shattered. Steel twisted.
He blasted down to the lobby, eyes firing heat vision. The beams swept across support columns, melting steel under extreme heat. The entire building began to tilt.
Alarms rang across the street. Pedestrians screamed and fled.
Thirty seconds later, the building collapsed.
Global media broadcast it live. A BBC anchor's voice trembled as she struggled to stay composed, every word shaking.
Homelander flew out of the rubble, not even dust on him. He glanced at the London Eye in the distance, then turned toward his next target.
---
Lower Manhattan.
Starlight stood atop a skyscraper, watching the footage.
She took a deep breath and closed her eyes. Light energy surged within her, flowing through her veins. A golden glow spread beneath her skin as two brilliant orbs formed in her hands.
Maeve's voice came through her communicator:
"Starlight, don't do this."
"I'm not being impulsive. I'm doing what needs to be done."
She cut the connection and leapt off the building.
Light energy gathered beneath her feet, propelling her forward. Not fast—but steady.
---
Brooklyn, Vought Memorial Hall.
This was Vought's first exhibition hall, built fifty years ago, showcasing early Compound V research and the history of The Seven.
By the time Starlight arrived, thousands had gathered outside, holding signs and shouting for answers.
Then they saw the golden-red figure descending from the sky—and froze.
Homelander landed at the entrance, staring at them.
The crowd began to retreat. Some dropped their signs and ran. Some raised their phones. Most just stood there, frozen in fear.
Homelander ignored them and walked inside.
Thirty seconds later, the entire building exploded from within. Flames roared skyward, glass shards raining down.
He walked out of the fire, sparks still clinging to his suit. Brushing off his cape, he prepared to leave.
"Stop!"
A golden beam crashed down from the sky, striking the ground before him and blasting a half-meter crater into the concrete.
Homelander looked up.
Starlight hovered midair, her hands still glowing. She forced her voice to sound firm:
"Stop destroying everything."
Homelander stared at her for a few seconds—then smiled.
There was no warmth in it. Only mockery.
"Starlight, right? Vought's newest product. Shot a few ads, trended a few times—and now you think you're a hero?"
Starlight clenched her teeth, saying nothing.
Homelander vanished.
Her vision blurred—and the next instant, a hand was clamped around her throat.
The strength was overwhelming. She couldn't even breathe. Struggling desperately, she gathered blinding light in her hands and slammed it into his chest.
The beam struck, erupting in brilliant white.
Homelander didn't even flinch.
Still gripping her throat, he slowly descended to the ground.
The crowd backed away, but no one dared run. Cameras were locked on them—hundreds of millions watching worldwide.
"Do you know," Homelander said calmly, "Vought spends thirty million a year marketing you so-called heroes? Movies, magazines, fan events. Convincing the world you're here to save them."
Starlight's face flushed red as she tried to pry his hand loose.
"But you're not," he continued. "You're products. Success stories of Compound V. Vought packages you as heroes, sells you to idiots, and makes billions."
His grip tightened. Her throat felt like it was about to shatter.
"Now the whole world knows the truth." He looked up at the cameras. "Your heroes are lab-made monsters. Your justice is a fairy tale written by corporations."
He turned back to her.
"And you are part of that lie."
Starlight gathered every ounce of strength, unleashing an unprecedented burst of light. The beam struck his face, turning it stark white.
It did nothing.
Homelander didn't even blink.
"That's it? I've felt worse from a scratch."
He released her. She collapsed to the ground, coughing violently.
He stepped on her chest, looking down at her.
"I was going to kill everyone connected to Vought. But I've changed my mind."
He crouched, grabbing her hair and forcing her to look up.
"I'll show the world how useless their heroes are. I'll tear you apart in front of them—so they understand no one can stop me."
Tears welled in Starlight's eyes—not from fear.
She thought of the day she joined The Seven. Her mother's proud smile. The children who believed in her.
If she died like this… what would they think?
Would they still believe in heroes?
Homelander lifted her by the hair. His eyes began to glow red.
"Goodbye, Starlight."
At that moment, a hand rested on his shoulder.
Homelander froze.
Then pain exploded in his chest.
Not external—internal. The purple patterns flared wildly, as if something inside him was detonating.
He screamed, releasing Starlight and clutching his chest.
She hit the ground, gasping for air. Looking up, she saw a stranger standing behind him.
Dark coat. Black hair. Calm expression.
The clone—Hang—didn't even look at Homelander. His gaze fell on Starlight.
Space law gathered in his palm. Golden light enveloped her.
In the next instant, both vanished.
The crowd stood frozen. Cameras kept rolling—but now only Homelander remained, kneeling in the rubble, clutching his chest.
---
Lower Manhattan, a secluded alley.
A spatial rift opened. Hang stepped out with Starlight and released her.
She staggered back, bracing against the wall, staring at him. Her hands still glowed, ready to attack at any moment.
"Who are you?" she asked hoarsely, her throat still aching.
"Just passing through."
"Don't joke. What did you do to him? Why was he like that?"
Hang didn't answer. He simply looked at her.
His mental force swept over her body, assessing her injuries. Bruised neck. Cracked ribs—but nothing fatal. Compound V's healing would fix it within hours.
"Your light energy is weak. If I hadn't intervened, you wouldn't have lasted three seconds."
Starlight clenched her fists, her glow intensifying.
"I know I can't beat him. But someone has to stand up."
"And then what? You die—and the people who believed in you? They'll think even heroes can't save them. That resistance is meaningless."
She froze.
"If you want to be a hero, you have to stay alive," Hang said, turning away. "Dead heroes are martyrs. Only living heroes can change anything."
He raised a hand. Another spatial rift opened.
"Wait!" she called. "Who are you really? Why did you save me?"
Hang paused, glancing back.
"Because you still have value. This world needs real heroes—not products made by Vought."
"What about Homelander? Will you kill him?"
"No. He'll destroy himself. I'm just speeding things up."
With that, he stepped into the rift and vanished.
Starlight stood there, staring at where he had disappeared. Slowly, her hands lowered, the light fading.
Her chest still hurt—but his words echoed in her mind.
Only living heroes can change anything.
She took a deep breath, pulled out her phone, and dialed Maeve.
"I'm okay. But we need to talk—about Homelander, about Vought… and the man who saved me."
There was a pause before Maeve replied:
"Come back. We need to reassess everything."
Starlight hung up and glanced into the alley's depths.
He said she still had value.
What did that mean?
She didn't know. But she knew one thing—
This wasn't over.
The power inside Homelander, the stranger's sudden appearance, and the effortless way he subdued him all pointed to one truth:
There were things in this world far more terrifying than Compound V.
And she had just seen one of them.
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