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"Good evening, everyone! Welcome to Dodge News Live!"
"This is Dodge Wilson, and I'm reporting from 57th Avenue. You won't believe who I just ran into."
"It's Homelander!"
"Yes, you heard that right! As you can see, Homelander has just stopped an ambulance right in the middle of the street!"
"As for why he's doing this... well, we have no clue."
"Oh my god!"
"He's ripping the ambulance open! What is he thinking? Doesn't he know this could delay treatment? This could cost the patient their life!"
The livestream camera shook, capturing the chaotic scene unfolding on the street. The blue-clad figure of Homelander pried open the ambulance with ease, making the nurse inside scream in terror.
Meanwhile, the screen flooded with comments.
'What's up today? Wasn't Homelander just at the Walmart hostage situation? Now he's at 57th Avenue?'
'Anyone wanna bet there's a wanted criminal in that ambulance? Five bucks says I'm right!'
The camera zoomed in on a frustrated doctor, who had just climbed out of the vehicle. Dodge Wilson, the freelance journalist behind the stream, shoved the microphone toward him.
"Doctor, can you tell us what's going on here? Why did Homelander stop the ambulance?"
The doctor, exasperated, snapped, "How should I know?"
"All I know is that we have a critically injured patient in the back. She's suffered severe organ damage and is still bleeding. If we don't get her to the hospital soon, the consequences could be fatal."
Dodge let out a dramatic gasp. "This sounds serious."
"Oh no, now what? Homelander just lifted the entire stretcher out of the ambulance!"
The camera zoomed in again, capturing Homelander effortlessly raising the stretcher.
"Homelander!" Dodge shouted into the microphone. "Do you realize what you're doing? You could be interfering with an emergency rescue! This could lead to a medical disaster!"
"Care to explain yourself to the viewers?"
The blond man turned his head slightly, shooting Dodge a cold, dismissive look. Then, without a word, he took off into the sky, the stretcher cradled in his arms.
The camera caught nothing but a blur as Homelander disappeared into the distance.
"He didn't even respond!" Dodge exclaimed, swinging the camera toward the viewers. "You all saw that, right? Homelander just ignored us. This arrogance—how are we supposed to trust someone like him to protect us?"
"I'm Dodge Wilson, and I'll keep you updated with live coverage. If you want to know what happens next, follow me! I'm heading to the Seven Tower right now!"
---
CIA Headquarters
In her office, Deputy Director Susan Raynor opened the door to find a familiar figure sitting on her desk, watching the same livestream.
The man turned toward her with a smug grin. "Hey, sweetheart. Long time no see."
Raynor's expression soured instantly. "Butcher. You can't just waltz in here like this."
Butcher, unfazed, shrugged and put his phone down. "Sure, I can."
She shut the door behind her and crossed her arms. "What do you want?"
Butcher held up his phone. "Take a look at what your golden boy just did. He stopped an ambulance and ran off with a patient. And we're just supposed to stand by and let this happen? From the cops to our fine government, we're all turning a blind eye to these freaks. Tell me, Susan—how long are we going to keep swallowing this crap?"
Raynor glared at him. "Since when did you become some kind of moral crusader?"
Butcher's grin widened. "Probably around the time that son of a bitch took Becca from me."
Her voice softened, but her gaze was steely. "It's been eight years, Billy. It's over. You need to let this go."
"I'm not letting anything go." His tone was laced with venom. "I don't care what it takes. I'm taking these bastards down."
Raynor leaned forward, locking eyes with him. "You'll get yourself killed, you know that, right?"
"I don't care," Butcher said flatly. "All I care about is putting them in the ground."
Raynor sighed. "What do you want this time?"
Butcher's grin returned. "Ever heard of Olga Weaponry Corp?"
She stiffened, her eyes narrowing. "How do you know about them?"
"Not how this works, darling," Butcher teased. "Unless, of course, you plan on sharing your bed with me, I ask the questions here."
Raynor gave him a cold smile. "Get out, Butcher."
"You will answer, though." Butcher leaned closer. "Because deep down, you know you need me."
"Olga Weaponry's cozying up to the Department of Defense," Raynor said curtly. "Word is, they're poised to land the next big contract."
Butcher gave a low whistle. "That's interesting."
She tapped her desk with a finger. "Now it's my turn, Billy. What can you do for me?"
He grinned like a wolf. "A lot. Surveillance, dirty work—you name it. I'll keep an eye on those super-freaks and hand you everything you need."
"In return," Butcher added, "I want funding, resources... and immunity."
Raynor lit a cigarette, exhaling a stream of smoke. "Fine. But if you screw me over, I'll personally shove a gun up your ass and unload every last bullet."
Butcher chuckled. "That's the Raynor I know and love."
---
Abandoned Farm on the Outskirts
Inside the dusty barn of an old, abandoned farm, a hole burst open through the roof. Homelander floated down, holding the stretcher.
He scanned Angelina's body with his enhanced vision. The situation was grim—her vital organs were shutting down, and her pulse was fading fast.
Without hesitation, Homelander pulled out a sleek silver injector. He ripped open the collar of her shirt and pressed the injector to her neck.
The needle sank into her pale skin, and with a precise push, the contents—NK Gene Mod Serum: Enhanced Formula—flooded into her bloodstream.
He withdrew the needle and waited, watching her intently.
Angelina's body twitched violently. Her temperature skyrocketed as her veins bulged beneath her skin. Suddenly, her entire body arched upward as if an electric current had surged through her.
Homelander grabbed her arms, holding her down firmly.
Angelina thrashed wildly, gasping for air. Then, without warning, her eyes snapped open, gleaming with an unnatural glow.
A split second later, her mouth opened wide, revealing a row of sharp, predatory fangs.
With a feral snarl, she lunged forward, sinking her teeth toward Homelander's neck.
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