The night was thick as ink, and silence shrouded the private estate on the outskirts of New York.
The evening breeze carried the coolness of grass and trees past the detached villa's carved exterior walls. The entire area was silent, long since sunk into the slumber of late night.
A figure broke through the heavy darkness, descending slowly from high above and landing lightly without so much as a whisper of wind.
It was Homelander.
At this late, quiet hour, well past bedtime, Dr. Vogelbaum had already retired and fallen asleep.
But Homelander had no patience to wait.
Not even a second.
The truth of his origins, the mystery of his bloodline, that man hailed as the strongest of the first generation, Soldier Boy-all these tangled thoughts churned wildly through his mind, leaving him restless, almost frantic with anxiety.
He had to get answers immediately, to verify the whole truth.
His eyes narrowed slightly as he activated Super Vision, piercing the thick walls and dim night to lock directly onto the villa's master bedroom.
On the large bed, Vogelbaum slept on his back, his breathing long and steady, his posture relaxed, every bit the picture of someone sound asleep in the dead of night.
Homelander hesitated no longer. In a blur, he swept silently onto the balcony, stepped lightly over the railing, and entered the quiet bedroom.
Only faint moonlight filtered through the windows, its hazy glow casting alternating patches of light and shadow across the room.
Homelander stood quietly beside the bed with his hands behind his back, gazing down at the sleeping old man.
Usually obsessive, domineering, and utterly unrestrained, he now felt an unusually intense surge of hesitation and fear.
He was afraid.
Afraid that once he woke Vogelbaum, the answer would be no. Afraid that the