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Chapter 12
The two teenagers strolled down the bustling street of New York City; their backpacks slung over their shoulders as their school day finally came to an end.
The honking of car horns and chatter of passing pedestrians filled the air, creating a chaotic song that was the soundtrack to their journey home. Towering skyscrapers lined the busy road, creating a colorful backdrop for the two friends to navigate through as they chatted about their day.
Despite the chaos around them, they walked with a sense of ease and familiarity, knowing every turn and shortcut along their route. As they neared their destination, the smell of hot pretzels and pizza wafted toward them, tempting them to make a pit stop before continuing on.
"I'm just saying man, if Homelander made just one movie it would probably be the most popular movie of all fucking time! And would probably make billions of dollars! They are saying no to free money by not making one!"
"Yeah, but it's Homelander," his friend replied, rolling his eyes. "If you haven't noticed, he's too busy saving lives, you stupid idiot."
"I know that fool! But you can't lie and say you don't want a Homelander movie!"
Their argument continued to bounce back and forth, each point more fervent and impassioned than the last. Their voices echoed through the crowded streets, blending in against the cacophony of city noise.
"Who you are calling fool, you saltine cracker!"
"I'm calling you a fool! You monkey!"
"Why yo-!"
BAng!
Just as one was about to launch into a surefire rebuttal, there was a sudden, deafening roar. Rubber chewed ruthlessly against asphalt as a car veered uncontrollably down the street. The world seemed to slow at that moment—the pedestrians' chatter went silent, and the symphony of city noises lulled into a hushed whisper.
Sirens could be heard coming from a distance, their wailing crescendo piercing the sudden silence. The car was careening towards them, its driver uncaring about their surrounding as they tried to lose the police on their tail.
"SHIT/SHIT!" They both screamed out as their eyes widened in fear as they tried to desperately move out of the way of the speeding tank.
Unfortunately for them, they would not be making it in time.
Time seemed to slow even further as they found themselves frozen in fear, caught in the headlights of the rapidly approaching vehicle. The world spun around them, a whirl of colors and sounds melting into a blur. Their hearts pounded like drums in their chests, each beat echoing loudly in their ears.
Crash!
Then, like a bolt of lightning cutting through the chaos, a figure appeared before them - so fast that they barely registered his arrival.
With an almighty crash, sparks flew high into the air as metal met superhuman strength. The world held its breath as the hero used his body as a shield to stop the car in its tracks; his boots making deep impressions on the road under him.
He swooped down like an avenging angel, with his eyes glaring at the man in the vehicle. With incredible strength beyond human comprehension, he halted the runaway vehicle in its tracks just inches from them, breaking the front end of the vehicle with his iron grip.
The car shuddered and groaned under his grip before coming to a jarring halt. A shocked silence filled the air as Homelander stood between them and what would have definitely been their demise.
Exhaling breaths they didn't realize they'd been holding, they watched as Homelander straightened up from his heroic feat. His cape caught in the wind dramatically while he surveyed the damage done with narrow eyes before focusing on the man tumbling out of the tank of a car.
They groaned in pain and clutched their broken arm from the unexpected car crash.
Homelander's towering frame radiated an intense aura of authority that even the career criminals were forced to acknowledge. He pulled the man up from the ground with ease and suspended him in the air with one hand, his gaze never leaving the man's terrified eyes.
"H-Homelander..." he stammered, squirming futilely against Homelander's grip.
"Yes. Me," John responded calmly, his voice carrying an unmistakable hint of menace that left no question about who was in control of this situation.
"I-I apologize?" The car thief questioned, his voice trembling with fear as he glanced down at his dangling feet. "P-Please don't hurt me."
Homelander simply narrowed his eyes further, the blue in them flashing ominously red. "You should apologize to the two kids you almost killed, asshole."
A crowd had started to gather around them, murmurs of disbelief still rippling through the bystanders.
"I-I'm... I'm sorry," the man gasped out, tears falling down his eyes from the fear and pain.
The sirens grew louder as multiple police cars skidded to a halt around them, their red and blue lights flashing wildly and illuminating the scene with an eerie glow.
He tossed the man easily toward the oncoming police cars as if he were nothing more than a rag doll.
The two teens could only stare, wide-eyed and open-mouthed from the pavement where they'd collapsed. They watched as Homelander turned towards them, the wind ruffling his blonde hair as he approached. An eerie silence settled over the scene; every eye fixated on the superhero who had just saved their lives.
The crowd that had formed at a safe distance erupted into cheers and applause for their hero. The hero turned his back on the cheers, his attention focused solely on making sure the two teenagers were alright.
"Are you both okay?" Homelander asked, finally letting his gaze fall onto them.
They looked up at him - dazed and awestruck - and managed a small nod, too stunned to put their relief into words. He examined them with a critical eye before nodding once, satisfied they were indeed unharmed.
"Stay out of trouble," he advised before turning away, preparing to take off into the skyline once more.
The cop cars formed a tight circle around the wrecked car and the thief while Homelander lifted off the ground, disappearing into the sky with hardly a sound. The crowd erupted into thunderous applause yet again, but it fell on deaf ears as far as the two teenagers were concerned.
"…Fuck that was awesome." One of the of the boys muttered out in pure awe.
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Up in the sky, overlooking the city below him was John - or as the world knew him, Homelander. His golden hair shimmered under the sunlight blue eyes reflecting the city's lights like a mirror. His broad shoulders, clad in his iconic suit, rose and fell with each breath he took in - a testament to the arduous path he had chosen.
The commanding view of the city before him was a sight he never got tired of seeing. From up here, it looked almost peaceful, but John knew better than anyone else that appearances could be deceiving.
He crossed his arms over his chest and began to scan the city for signs of trouble. It was a constant task, an unending responsibility that he carried on his shoulders. His laser-sharp eyesight caught glimpses of daily life - couples walking hand-in-hand, teenagers hanging out at an open-air diner, elderly people returning home after their evening stroll.
BRRRRR! BRRRR!
He stopped his scanning of the city for trouble and reached for his phone that was ringing in his pocket. Looking at who exactly was calling him, he smiled when he saw it was Maggie who was calling him.
"Maggie," he answered, and even though the wind whipped across his face, his voice was clear and steady.
"John," Maggie's voice came through the phone, her mood clearly happy. "I'm surprised you actually picked up considering your oh-so-busy schedule, don't you have a cat to save from a tree or a villain to punch?"
John chuckled lightly at her dry humor. Despite the serious nature of their line of work, she always managed to keep things lively.
"I have time for you, Maggie," he murmured, his tone warm. Her laughter rang out through the speaker of his phone, its melody causing a smile to tug at his lips.
"Careful there, Homelander. Some might say you're going soft," she teased. He could practically hear the smirk on her face and he couldn't help but roll his eyes.
"And risk tarnishing my tough guy reputation? Never," he replied, his voice laced with light amusement. The wind blew stronger around him, ruffling his hair and the edges of his cape. But he remained unfazed, effortlessly maintaining his balance in mid-air as he held onto the phone.
"Just checking up on you, big guy," she said after a moment, her voice growing softer. "Things have been...tense lately."
He sighed quietly, understanding exactly what she was referring to.
"I know, Maggie. I'm doing my best, just trust me alright?"
"I know you are John," Her voice held nothing but conviction and trust which only spurred him forward. He closed his eyes for a moment, letting her belief in him resonate within him before opening them again to continue scanning the city. "but I feel like we're getting into something bigger than we can handle. Something...dangerous."
John remained silent at her words that was filled with concern and worry. He knew he was asking a lot out of her to trust him when he explained next to nothing about what he was planning to do. But he needed her to remain in the dark for a little bit longer before he explained everything.
"I know," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper against the rush of the wind. He glanced down at the bustling city below him. "But we've faced danger before, haven't we?"
There was a pause on the other end of the line. "Yes... but, John-"
"I can handle it, Maggie," John cut her off gently, knowing that the conversation would only spiral into an argument if he let her continue. He didn't want that - didn't want to add to her worries. "And I won't let anything happen to you or any of our teammates. You have my word."
Silence hung between them for a moment before Maggie finally spoke up again.
"Alright, John." Her voice held resignation but also unyielding trust. "I trust you."
With those words, a sense of relief washed over him. He knew convincing Maggie wouldn't be easy; she was stubborn and fiercely protective of their team - their family. But it was her trust in him that made him believe they could overcome any challenge in their path.
"Thank you, Maggie," he said sincerely.
She responded with a soft chuckle. "You owe me one hell of an explanation when all of this is over, John."
"Deal." The light-hearted banter brought a small smile to his face.
"By the way, I know you don't want to come to the meeting but we're gathering at base in ten minutes. And before you argue," she added swiftly, as if sensing the protest, he was about to offer, "this is non-negotiable, you need to be there."
John sighed deeply, letting the wind carry away his frustration. This was the one thing he disliked about his job - the bureaucratic requirements. He'd rather be out there, among the people, doing what he did best. Instead of going to some meeting which they knew would be both tedious and unnecessary.
"Alright, alright," he conceded, running a hand through his hair in resignation. "I'll be there."
"Thank you, John," Maggie's voice softens from her previous stern tone. "See you soon."
"See you soon, Mags," he replied before hanging up the call and entering the Sevens base in the next second. Some would think he teleported from his previous location, but it was simply the speed at which he moved.
"Matt." He greeted the pilot who would fly nonflying supes and civilians to the station.
"John," Matt replied, offering a quick but friendly nod.
As he moved down the hallway of the station everyone would either greet him with a friendly hi or looks of awe and respect, sometimes both.
John responded to each greeting with a nod and flashed them a quick smile not wanting to be rude. There was a reason everyone respected him so much; not only was he the most powerful among them, but he also carried himself with a sense of responsibility and sincerity that were hard to find in the world they lived in.
As he finally reached the meeting room, he took a deep breath before entering, preparing himself for what was to come. He swung open the door and stepped into the meeting room of the seven. He didn't bother looking around the room to see who was all there and why would he? He already saw who was inside using his X-ray vision.
"Mr. Edger… what a surprise to see you here," John remarked, acting surprised to see the man leading Vaught in the room.
"John," Stan greeted back, his voice cool and firm, not betraying any hint of emotion. "Been a while, hasn't it?"
"Since you first introduced me to the entire world as its greatest hero in history?" John retorted, playing along. "Sure, I would say it's been a while."
Sitting inconspicuously in the corner was Black Noir. He was as still as a stone statue, only the slow rising and falling of his chest hinting at the life beneath the solid black suit that cloaked him entirely.
"Black Noir," John nodded at the man getting no response back.
Ignoring the other superhuman in the room for a moment, John chose to focus on Stan.
"Where's everyone else?" he asked, he already knew the answer but asked anyway.
"Running late I suppose," Stan replied, a glint of humor in his eyes. "You've set the bar high, John. Not everyone can zip across the city in a matter of seconds."
"Right," he responded, leaning against the conference table and crossing his arms over his chest.
Stan's gaze remained steady on him, his eyes hard and cold despite the smile playing on his lips.
"Regardless," he continued, "we'll start without them. We have personal matters to discuss."
Stan's face remained impassive as he reached into his jacket pocket and slipped out a thin manila folder. The cover was unmarked but John had been around long enough to know these were never good news.
"I need you to read this," Stan said tersely, holding out the packet to John.
Taking the folder from Stan's hand, John carefully opened it and took a glance at the first page. His eyes widened marginally at what he saw: photographs. But not just any photographs. These were images of him brutally taking down villains and heroes alike who belonged to Vaught.
Each one was captured from different angles, showing various degrees of destruction and brutality as he made sure to make them regret the choices they made.
"So, this is what you wanted to discuss?" John asked in a low voice as he continued flipping through the pages.
Stan nodded mutely.
"There are concerns within our organization, John," he said quietly. "It seems our greatest hero has taken a liking to destroying its company's products."
John remained silent, meeting Stan's gaze. His lips pursed as he clasped the folder shut. He tossed it casually onto the table.
"I don't know what you're talking about, Mr. Edger," John retorted, narrowing his eyes at the man. "I've done nothing but uphold the integrity of this organization since I agreed to put on this damn uniform."
"Yes, I've noted how... passionately you carry out your duties," Stan conceded, dipping his head in a curt nod of acknowledgment and respect. "And the number of heroes and villains has started to fall since your appearance."
Without waiting for a response from John, Stan continued. "However, despite your heroics, John, there are those within the organization who believe your actions are undermining our company."
Stan paused briefly as he met John's gaze again.
"These photos have made their rounds within our ranks," he said accusingly. "And they don't exactly paint you in the best light. especially since you are costing the company millions with each hero and villain taken out of commission."
John's jaw clenched, the muscles ticking in annoyance under his skin and white knuckles were invisible underneath his gloves.
"I will do what's necessary to protect this city and its people." John's voice rang through the chamber with a domineering presence echoing around them. His statement was clear—he was not here for Vaught's reputation; he was here for justice. "And if that means taking down those who wear the same cape as I do, then so be it."
A flash of something— irritation? —flickered across Stan's face before it was quickly masked.
"It is not your duty to decide who is a threat or isn't," he said firmly. "That's our job, and your job is to follow orders."
John chuckled mirthlessly at that as he turned to look at the one who did exactly that.
Black Noir who was leaning against the wall in the corner of the room watched the meeting in silence without making a single sound. Clad in his signature black attire, he remained still, silent as a statue.
His face was hidden behind an impenetrable mask that revealed nothing of the man beneath it. Seeing him standing there—so compliant, so obedient—it was impossible to shake off the impression that he was nothing more than a dog, following Vaught's orders without question.
John's gaze traced over Black Noir's form, taking in the cold- unmoving demeanor of the hero. He could almost see the invisible leash tied around Noir's neck, pulling him back whenever he strayed too far from his orders. It made John wonder if Noir ever thought about his actions or if he blindly accepted whatever was thrown his way.
A surge of contempt welled up within John as he looked at Black Noir— a living example of what Stan wanted him to be. Just another obedient puppet who never questioned his orders or looked beyond what was presented to him; a hero shackled by policies and corporate interests.
But there was another thing about Noir that bothered John and left him feeling disturbed… he couldn't see through the mask.
He peered at Black Noir, his gaze hard and calculating. He tried to probe with his X-ray vision, to see the face beneath the mask. But he could not, despite the fact his X-ray had improved by leaps and bounds. His powers were unable to penetrate that piece of costume.
His gaze shifted back to Stan. The corporate figure may have held sway over Vaught and its superheroes, but John wasn't going to let him dictate how he was going to save people.
"I know what my job is, thank you very much," John said tersely, shooting a heated glare at Stan.
His words hung heavy in the room, creating a tension that was almost palpable. Stan's eyes narrowed as he mulled over John's statement.
"Very well, John," Stan murmured, his tone icy and measured. He studied John for a moment, seeming to calculate his next move. "Your dedication is commendable, truly, but be careful. After all, you're playing with fire."
His gaze was defiant as he met Stan's eyes head-on.
"If playing with fire means standing up to people like you, then consider me a fucking pyromaniac."
The two stared each other down, each man's gaze unwavering.
"Is that a threat, John?" Stan asked, his voice low and dangerous. His hands were clasped tightly together on the table, his knuckles white from the pressure.
John raised an eyebrow at him.
"I don't make threats, Mr. Edger," he said flatly. "I only give promises."
The silence in the room was deafening as Stan digested John's words. He seemed to take a moment to regain his composure, his cold eyes never leaving John's face. Then, slowly, almost imperceptibly, he smiled.
"I see," he said softly, his tone had an edge of sharpness to it that would make most people nervous. "Well then... consider your warning duly noted."
Suddenly, the conference room door swung open and there stood four figures - the missing members of the Seven. A-Train rushed in first, out of breath and apologizing profusely for being late while Blindspot followed after him.
Ground Hawk soon came in along with Queen Maeve next to him, both of them exchanging glances with John before taking her seat. Last came Starlight, the newest member of the team, her face pale and nervous as she followed in.
Stan welcomed them with a forced smile before turning his attention back to John.
"Let's continue this later," he said evenly.