Fierce winds tore at Stormfront's uniform. Homelander held her firmly by the back of her neck as they hurtled through the sky, thousands of meters above the ground.
Purple arcs still danced between her fingertips. Stormfront gritted her teeth, trying to summon the energy inside her to break free of that iron grip.
She thought Homelander was going to crush her spine in midair to show the people of the United States that he was a staunch anti-Nazi hero.
But a few seconds later, Stormfront stopped struggling.
She sensed no killing intent.
Homelander's hand gripped her hard, but not tightly enough to snap her neck.
He was simply carrying her, fleeing Washington at an almost evasive speed, putting as much distance as he could between them and that Congress Building filled with screams and blood.
They burst through the clouds and landed on an uninhabited mountaintop deep in the Appalachians. Homelander released her, and Stormfront stumbled two steps before regaining her balance.
Around them, there was nothing but howling mountain winds and withered yellow grass.
Homelander stood with his back to Stormfront, looking out over the endless black forests below. The stars on his uniform, symbols of the United States' spirit, still gleamed, but his broad shoulders were slightly hunched.
"I want the truth."
Homelander's voice lacked its usual public fervor, as well as the brutality it carried before he killed. All that remained was an eerily unsettling vulnerability.
Stormfront froze. The face all of the United States looked up to was now filled with confusion, pain, and fear.
These were the eyes of a monster who had grown up locked inside a sterile laboratory and had never truly known an intimate relationship.
Growing up, he had had no parents, no childhood, only cold instruments and endless tests.
He had