Laser Eyes

Rainwater steamed off the ground, leaving a veil of mist.

"This is the world I see."

Ryan held out his hand, delighted beyond words.

At last, he had mastered Laser Eyes through relentless practice with his powers.

And he had gradually realized something.

The potential of this body was worthy of the bloodline it carried.

As long as he wanted to, his powers grew steadily stronger every day.

By now, besides Laser Eyes and See-Eye, he had sensed an unusual stirring within his body when he finally gained full control of Laser Eyes.

It was change.

His body was changing, and a new superpower was slowly awakening.

The changes to his body were easy enough to test. Ryan looked down at his arm.

He activated Laser Eyes, and blue beams burned into it.

His clothes scorched away, quickly exposing the skin beneath.

The beams burned his skin.

Scalding pain shot through Ryan, but even as the beams kept firing, they failed to pierce his arm.

After all, Laser Eyes could easily burn a great hole through a tree trunk too wide for one person to wrap their arms around.

"With defenses like this, I'm hardly human anymore."

He stared at his arm in silence.

If he increased the power of Laser Eyes, he could still burn through it. But right now, he felt confident.

He could even control the strength of his beams.

Next, he needed to become as skilled at controlling his powers as Homelander.

Superpowers could not be mastered overnight.

Ryan knew he had to keep lying low.

He was still growing stronger by the day. There was no reason to go looking for trouble.

He would wait until he was ready.

As Ryan thought about his plans, he noticed that the sleeve on his arm had turned to blackened scraps.

He could not explain that to Becca when he got home.

So he simply

tore off his old clothes.

When Becca saw Ryan come home, she was startled.

The boy had gone out to play and returned without his clothes.

Suppressing her anger, Becca spoke with the patient gentleness of any mother.

"Ryan, would you like to tell your mother how you spent your afternoon?"

"Not really."

"Tell me."

"All right."

Ryan scratched his head and made up a story about snagging his clothes on a branch.

Becca did not believe him.

"You're so short. What branch could have snagged you?"

"It happened while I was climbing a tree."

Becca still felt Ryan was lying, and his dishonesty made her angry.

Unable to maintain her composed manner, she snatched up a bottle of wine nearby.

"Listen, brat. I used to be somebody. Let me teach you where to hit a person so it hurts without leaving a scar."

"..."

She was far too quick-tempered. Ryan sighed helplessly, ignored her outburst, and walked over to hug her.

Sometimes actions reached the heart better than words.

And Ryan held Becca tight.

"I'm sorry I worried you. I won't come home this late again."

After Ryan spoke, Becca casually tossed the bottle aside. Her face remained cold, as though she was still angry.

"A pitiful door has come between us."

"Um..."

Ryan smiled wryly at the sulking Becca. His mother was a woman too, and women could be coaxed out of a bad mood.

He let go of her.

"Don't be mad at me. How about we go out together tomorrow?"

"I'll consider it."

Despite her words, Becca's happiness was plain on her face.

After reassuring her a little more, Ryan went to his room.

A book lay on the brown desk inside.

Ryan sat at the desk and opened it. The book had recently become a huge hit.

He had flipped through it before and knew what it contained.

Homelander, The Deep, Lamplighter...

One person after another appeared under their heroic names. They were superheroes who fought evil and punished villains.

The book praised them to the skies.

It stirred readers' blood, making them wish they could become superheroes and fight alongside these brave, virtuous heroes.

At first, Ryan had enjoyed it too, until he saw who published it.

Among the publisher's investors was the name of a major shareholder.

Vought International.

A colossal company with a monopoly over countless industries. Its very name inspired fear.

It produced superheroes.

The stories in the book claimed to be true accounts. Rather than simply fulfilling people's dreams, they seemed designed to promote those heroes' deeds.

Ryan ran a hand over the book's cover. Outside his room, Becca started up a chainsaw to cut through the door.

The buzz of the chainsaw filled his ears, but his thoughts were elsewhere.

His mind was full of the heroes' profiles from the book.

Homelander wore the flag of a certain nation and watched over its people from the skies above.

Known abilities:

Flight, Laser Eyes, See-Eye, and an indestructible body.

The Deep wore a diving suit and could communicate with marine life.

Known abilities:

Communicating with aquatic creatures—or perhaps granting them the ability to reason, then communicating with them.

There were seven superheroes in all. Ryan knew they truly existed in this world.

They were the faces of Vought International.

Heroes should have been like Spider-Man, working behind the scenes and doing good without seeking recognition.

But Vought International had brought its heroes into the spotlight. Like contracted entertainers, they drew publicity for them.

They attracted fans, then made money from merchandise and movies.

As a business model for superheroes, it was an enormous success.

Those heroes did not act out of hatred for villains or longing for a better world.

It was simply a job. A way to make money.

Their profession was heroism: nine-to-five hours, packed schedules, resentment toward work, and coworkers who were hard to get along with.

Ryan could imagine those heroes whom the book held in such high esteem

being troubled by all those things in their daily lives.

That was only natural. Superheroes were people too.

No one could have everything go their way all the time. As Ryan pondered Vought International, someone knocked on his door.

Becca came in with a plate of sliced fruit and reminded Ryan to shower and get to bed early.

She set the plate on his desk, then leaned against it as she spoke.

"Watching you grow independent is like watching a pig I raised hurry off to the slaughterhouse."

"Is... is this a lecture, Becca?"

She looked heartbroken, but Ryan knew it was an act.

At first, Ryan had taken their interactions more seriously. But as time passed,

he had learned that Becca liked to joke around, so he started playing along.

Often, neither of them was serious.

That was true now, too. Without shedding a single tear, Becca pretended to cry pitifully.

"Are you leaving? You can't leave. If you do, I'll really be all alone."

"Then come with me."

"No. Why don't you stay here like a good boy and look after me when I'm old?"

She seemed so afraid of being alone that Ryan did not know what to say.

One thing was certain: something must have happened to her in the past

to make her express her feelings this way.

All Ryan could do was speak softly.

"It's okay. I'm not going anywhere right now."