The morning sun blazed high in the sky, casting a brilliant gold glare over Homelander and Erasmus as they hovered effortlessly thousands of feet in the air. Far below them lay the target: a heavily fortified compound belonging to an international terrorist cell.
Today was a special lesson. Homelander wanted his son to unleash his full, devastating potential without holding anything back. To ensure Erasmus didn't hold back out of caution, Homelander had ordered Noir to stay clear of the primary blast zone so the masked assassin wouldn't accidentally get caught in the crossfire.
"Go get 'em, champ," Homelander said, offering a wide, encouraging smile as he gave Erasmus a gentle, guiding push forward into the open air.
Erasmus hovered for a brief second, looking back over his shoulder at his father. Homelander simply nodded, his eyes gleaming with anticipation. Turning back toward the compound below, Erasmus narrowed his eyes and focused his mind.
Suddenly, two blinding, thick beams of violent violet and searing white light erupted from his pupils. The dual-colored lasers tore through the sky, slamming into the compound with apocalyptic force.
With a simple tilt of his head, Erasmus swept the apocalyptic beams across the landscape, effortlessly slicing through concrete walls, armored vehicles, and the screaming men fleeing below, bisecting everything in their path.
"No, no, nostop, Erasmus! Listen to me champ," Homelander called out, flying down a few feet to hover right beside his son. The laser beams snapped off, leaving glowing, molten trenches in the dirt below. "Today is one of the few chances you're ever going to get to go completely all-out without the Vought PR team whining about it. So don't just stand up here playing target practice. Get down there! Get your hands dirty! I want to see what you can really do when you break them apart."
Erasmus looked down at his crisp, spotless clothes, then back up at his father. "But Dad... my clothes will get ruined. Marco and Oliver spent so much time getting me ready."
Homelander stared at him for a second, stunned by the response. Then, a loud, booming laugh burst from his chest, echoing across the sky. He shook his head, flying closer until he could wrap a massive, comforting arm around his son's shoulders.
"Oh, champ," Homelander chuckled, squeezing him tightly. "You really are something else. Your clothes? Listen to me, buddy. If your clothes get dirty, Vought will buy you a thousand more outfits. Heck, I'll buy you the whole textile factory. Now, look down there. Those bad guys? They don't care about your clothes. They want to tear down everything we built. I need to know that when I'm not around, you can rip them to pieces with your bare hands. No lasers. Just pure, raw strength. For me, Erasmus. Go show your dad how strong you are."
Erasmus locked his eyes on the group of armed men fleeing in all directions. Tilting his head forward, He threw his hands out and dove out of the sky like a falling star.
Erasmus tore into the bunker like a missile, the reinforced steel doors buckling instantly under his weight as he burst through them. Inside, the air was heavy with the smell of sweat, gunpowder, and immediate, overwhelming terror.
A group of five heavily armed militants spun around, their rifles already raised. They didn't even have time to register that their intruder was a teen before Erasmus closed the distance.
He moved like a blur, his fist burying itself into the center of the first man's chest. The sheer force of the impact shattered the man's ribs instantly, sending him flying backward into the concrete wall with a sickening crunch.
"!اطلق النار" one of them screamed, his voice cracking in pure panic.
The remaining four men unleashed a hail of automatic gunfire. The heavy-caliber bullets slammed into Erasmus's chest and shoulders, riddling his clothes with holes, the rounds flattened instantly against his skin, clinking harmlessly onto the floor like dropped coins.
He reached out and grabbed the barrel of the nearest rifle. With a casual twist of his wrist, he ripped the weapon away, snapping the soldier's wrists in the process. Before the man could scream.
Erasmus didn't let the momentum stop; using the weight of the stolen rifle, he pivoted smoothly on his heel and swung it like a sledgehammer. The heavy metal stock caught the third militant directly across the jaw, embedding itself deep into the shattered bone with a wet thud and dragging the man to the floor.
The last two terrorists dropped their weapons, completely broken by the display of power. One of them fell to his knees, pressing his hands together in a desperate plea for mercy.
He stepped toward the kneeling man, reached down, and grabbed him by the front of his uniform. With a single, effortless heave, Erasmus lifted the grown man into the air and slammed him face-first into the concrete floor. The ground cracked beneath the impact, silencing the man instantly.
Black Noir stood at the entrance of the bunker, his dark, featureless mask tilted slightly as he observed the absolute carnage inside. The silent assassin looked at the bodies, then down at Erasmus, giving a slow, approving nod.
Suddenly, a new figure burst into the bunker. He was a bare-chested, muscular militant, his eyes wild with fury as he took in the gory remains of his friends. Locking his eyes onto the blood-splattered boy, the man roared at the top of his lungs, "احترق بالحقيقة!"
Instantly, a colossal explosion of blinding white light and searing fire erupted from the man's body, enveloping the entire bunker in a hellish inferno. The shockwave blew the roof apart, lighting up the dark ruins.
When the smoke finally cleared, Black Noir and Erasmus simply stood there, looking at one another. Neither was harmed; the fire had washed over their invulnerable skin without leaving a scratch, though Noir's tactical suit was heavily scorched and smoking.
Erasmus turned toward the bare-chested man, walking forward with his hand shaped like a claw, fully intending to plunge it into the man's chest and pluck his heart out.
Suddenly, Black Noir raised a heavy gloved hand, placing it firmly in front of the boy's chest to stop him.
Erasmus paused. Despite the short time he'd spent in the tower, he favored the silent Supe; there was a quiet discipline to him that Erasmus respected.
Sensing the boy's curiosity, Noir reached down to his tactical harness, drew a sleek, razor-sharp combat blade, and effortlessly flipped it in his grip before presenting the hilt to the boy.
Up in the air, Homelander leaned over the newly opened roof, his hands resting on his hips. A massive, proud grin spread across his face as his son went to clear the rest of the cell.