Back at his new office in Vought Tower, Homelander was met by silence.
He sat alone on the sofa, his fingers tapping absently against the armrest.
Beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows, Manhattan glittered at night. Countless lights flowed together like a river. Those people were his most valuable assets, the source of his power.
Ego. The Celestials.
In his memories of his previous life, this had been just another chapter in the second phase of the Marvel Cinematic Universe, a family drama about finding Dad.
But now that he was truly in this world, facing a living planet that had existed for who knew how long, the pressure was real.
The guy had been taken down by a bunch of clowns in the movie because the plot demanded it, but that didn't make him a pushover.
Ego ranked among the Marvel Universe's most powerful beings, capable of crushing an entire interstellar fleet with a snap of his fingers.
Homelander had every confidence in his own strength, but an ancient titan like a Celestial deserved the utmost respect.
"Now I need to fan the flames a little higher." Homelander rose, a red gleam flashing through his eyes.
He also needed to push the Interstellar Homestead Plan forward.
Earth was too fragile. He needed a backup plan: spread humanity across other worlds, rather than keep all his eggs in one basket.
As the saying went, preserve the people and the land could be reclaimed.
1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, Washington, D.C. The White House.
A sharp rush of air tore through the sky.
Boom!
A red-and-blue figure descended from above and landed squarely in the middle of the White House's South Lawn.
The impact rolled the surrounding turf outward in waves, yet the ground beneath his feet remained untouched. He had dispersed the force