"Freak."
(I might take tomorrow off, or the day after. Either way, one day off. Two updates today, though. Enjoy yourselves.)
(Remember to hit the update reminder and leave a comment. The numbers have dropped a tiny bit.)
"I'll give you one more chance."
Homelander withdrew his hand, the lingering red glow in his eyes slowly fading.
He stood straight in the middle of the study, looking down at the old man clutching his wound and howling.
"Honestly, I don't mind burning this place to ashes, then digging the answers out of your remains. You know I can."
Homelander's tone was calm, as though he were chatting with an old friend, with a hint of indifference.
But to someone like Vogelbaum, who understood Homelander's temperament extremely well, this was an ultimatum.
If he so much as said "no," the next blast of Heat Vision would pierce his skull instead of his shoulder.
"..."
At Homelander's death threat, the old man's psychological defenses, which had held for eight years, cracked apart just like that.
He sank into the leather armchair, his chest heaving, a large, charred hole in the hollow of his shoulder.
There was no hiding it anymore.
Vogelbaum knew better than anyone that cooperation was the only way to survive the mercurial Homelander.
If he resisted any longer, these old bones of his really would end up in the ground.
"All right... I'll talk. I'll tell you everything."
He raised his head, his eyes bloodshot, his voice trembling with excruciating pain.
"It was Mr. Edgar's order. Ms. Madelyn oversaw the entire process. I was just the one who did the work..."
Eight years earlier, Becca had rushed into Madelyn's office clutching a pregnancy test, her makeup smeared, unable to say a word.
Madelyn first poured her a cup of hot cocoa and patted her back, telling her not to be afraid, then turned around and contacted Vogelbaum.
The test results came back quickly. The child had inherited the Compound V genes and was a natural-born supe.
Edgar's instructions came down that very night:
Seal off all information. The public must never learn that Homelander had an illegitimate child, and above all, Homelander himself must never know.
"Mr. Edgar said you were too unstable."
Vogelbaum spoke between ragged breaths.
"If you knew you had a child, you would definitely lose control.
You would certainly treat him as your possession, teach him to fly, teach him to use Heat Vision, put him in The Seven, and even take him with you to oppose the board.
As far as Vought was concerned, that was unacceptable."
And so the plan fell into place.
There really had been an accident during the delivery.
The child was too strong and tore through the uterine wall himself. Becca hemorrhaged, and it took six full hours of emergency treatment to save her life.
Afterward, they issued a death notice, saying that mother and child had both died.
In the early hours that morning, an ambulance took a roundabout route through three streets and delivered the still-unconscious Becca and her swaddled infant to Mangrove Base.
And so Becca spent eight years there, raising the child, without an identity or freedom.
She was even monitored when she went to the bathroom.
"Ms. Madelyn instructed us never to let you know."
Vogelbaum's voice grew quieter and quieter.
"She said you didn't understand how to be a father, that you would only ruin the child and Becca too. Keeping you apart was better for everyone..."
"Heh... better for everyone?"
"That's what Madelyn thought of me?"
Homelander repeated it.
He stood motionless, like a bronze statue doused with cold water, frozen in place.
The fire still crackled in the fireplace, its orange flames reflected on his profile, half illuminated, half fallen into shadow.
No one could make out his expression.
In fact, Homelander's mind was blank.
For a few seconds, he could not even tell what he should be feeling.
Anger? Of course.
Madelyn, the woman whose eyes always curved into a smile as she called him "darling."
The woman who would bring him strawberry cake to soothe him when Edgar's scolding left his face livid.
The person he had thought was the only one in the world on his side had actually been lying to him for eight years.
She had personally shoved his child underground, beyond the light of day, separating father and son and letting Vought play him like a fool.
Humiliation?
Absolute humiliation.
Edgar called him a product, Vogelbaum treated him as an unstable test subject, and even Madelyn thought he was unfit to be a father.
It seemed everyone could make his decisions for him and arrange his life. That, he could not accept.
But...
He had never imagined that he actually had a son.
Alive, eight years old, with his blood running through his veins.
He had inherited everything from him and was the only person in this world connected to him by blood.
After all, he had grown up within the white walls of a laboratory, surrounded by nothing but white coats and cold data, without parents.
He had even thought he would spend his whole life utterly alone.
Yet suddenly, someone told him that somewhere in this world, there was a tiny baby with the same blood flowing through him.
It was a strange sensation, a tingling so intense it felt bizarre.
But the moment that feeling emerged, towering rage burned it to ashes.
All of this should have been his.
He should have watched his child being born, watched his first tooth come in, taught him to fly, taught him to roast marshmallows with Heat Vision, and told him that his father was the greatest supe in the world.
Yet the child was already eight, and he, his biological father, had not even known he existed.
Unforgivable...
She had actually lied to him for eight years!
Homelander slowly raised his eyes, a terrifying red glow surging through his azure pupils.
The next second, the temperature in the room abruptly soared.
Vogelbaum went rigid with fear, not even daring to breathe.
"Madelyn."
"What else did she say?"
"N-nothing! I've told you everything I know!"
The old man frantically waved his hands, his arms trembling.
"I'm just a doctor! I only handled the delivery and regular checkups. They arranged everything else! Really!"
Homelander did not even look at him.
He wanted to ask that woman himself whether her tenderness had been real or false, and how much sincerity there had been in her companionship.
He wanted to ask what right she had to decide his child's life for him.
With a tremendous crash, the house behind him exploded, and a blue afterimage swept past the treetops and sped away.
Vought Tower, the top-floor executive office.
It was already eleven at night, and this was the only floor in the entire building with its lights still on.
Madelyn had just hung up on Edgar. Rubbing her temple with her fingertips, she picked up her half-finished, cold latte.
Just then, the floor-to-ceiling window behind her suddenly vibrated. Madelyn did not turn around.
She knew that sound all too well, like wind striking the glass, or the beating wings of some large bird coming in to land.
Homelander was back.
"What's wrong, darling?"
Madelyn put away her worried expression and turned around with her coffee, a practiced, gentle smile on her face.
"Did Edgar upset you again? He's just a stubborn old man, always wearing that sour expression. Don't take it to heart-"
But halfway through, she stopped.
In the light, she saw Homelander's face, and the look in his eyes.
Dark, repressed, crazed.
Yet he appeared calm, his blue eyes deep and unfathomable.
Madelyn's heart lurched.
It felt like missing a step on the stairs.
A sense of foreboding instantly crawled up her spine. She instinctively clutched her thigh, then set down her coffee cup and took two steps forward.
Out of habit, she raised her hand to touch Homelander's cheek.
It was her signature gesture, one she had used for over a decade, and it never failed.
As long as her fingertips touched his skin and she murmured a few soothing words, she could smooth down even his worst temper.
"What happened?"
Her voice was very gentle.
"Tell me."
Homelander let her fingertips settle against him, warm, carrying her usual perfume and the maternal fragrance harbored within her body.
In the past, he would have leaned into her comfortably, accepting Madelyn's caress.
But now, all he felt was disgust and falseness.
"So, Madelyn... you said you would never lie to me."
At Homelander's words, Madelyn's fingertips suddenly trembled.
But the smile on her face retained its perfect curve.
"Of course, darling. Why would I ever lie to you?"
She smiled, her fingertips gently brushing his cheek, her movements flawless.
"What on earth happened? Who told you something?"
"Becca."
That name struck her hard in the heart.
Madelyn's face instantly paled a shade, but with half a lifetime of acting experience, she quickly steadied herself.
She merely frowned, displaying just the right amount of confusion:
"Becca? Which Becca? Oh... you mean the one you slept with back then... didn't she die a long time ago?"
Still fucking acting.
Watching her performance, Homelander felt coldness and anger slowly rise within him.
"Are you going to keep acting?"
Homelander tilted his head.
"Eight years ago, she became pregnant with my child. You took her to Vogelbaum, and you sent her to Mangrove Base.
You told everyone she died in childbirth, and the child didn't survive either. Madelyn, have you forgotten all of that?"
Madelyn's face went completely white.
She stared at him blankly, her lips moving without managing to force out a single word.
How? This had been hidden for eight years. No more than five people knew.
That old bastard Vogelbaum wouldn't dare talk, and Edgar was even less likely to, so how had he found out?
Panic rose like a tide, drowning her until her chest felt tight.
Over the years, she had seen him rage and lose control countless times, smashing conference rooms and burning through the walls of Congress with Heat Vision.
But every time, she had been able to coax him back with a few gentle words.
This time was different-
He was too calm.
"Who... who's been telling you this nonsense?"
Madelyn's voice trembled, her eyes slowly reddening, with a hint of aggrievement.
"Darling, it's been so long... Becca really did die in childbirth, and the child didn't survive either.
I was afraid you'd be upset, so I never dared bring it up. I only did it for your own good..."
"For my own good?"
Homelander laughed.
Then his laughter grew louder and louder, carrying a faint, hysterical tremor.
"For my own good, so you hid my son underground for eight years?
For my own good, so you kept me from even knowing I had a child?
For my own good, so you joined forces with Edgar and kept me in the dark like a fool?"
Homelander suddenly seized Madelyn's wrist. She instantly sucked in a breath of pain, tears welling up at once.
"I've been to Mangrove."
He leaned close to her ear, red light surging in his blue eyes, and spoke each word distinctly.
"I saw his crayon drawings, saw his cans of formula, saw Becca's dress.
Madelyn, how much longer are you going to keep lying to me?"
"No..."
Her legs went weak.
The elegant, respectable shell Madelyn had maintained for more than a decade shattered beyond recognition in an instant.
All that remained was pallor, panic, and fear etched into her bones.
She had coaxed this man for fifteen years, soothed him for fifteen years, convinced she had figured out his temper and had a grip on his weaknesses.
But she knew better than anyone how dangerous he was.
He was an overgrown baby, scum, a murderous extremist who killed without blinking, a wild beast that needed to be controlled.
Once he broke free of the reins, no one could stop him.
She had spent all these years living in terror, facing a walking nuclear bomb that could explode at any moment, yet still having to smile and act coy, soothing him in a gentle voice.
"I'm sorry..."
"That child was too special. If the public found out, your image would be completely ruined, and Vought would be dragged into it too... Besides, besides..."
"Besides what?"
Homelander stared at her coldly.
Madelyn raised her head, her eyes filled with fear, grievance, and a trace of weary, burn-the-boats resolve.
Those words had been buried in her heart for more than a decade, weighing on her until she could barely breathe. But today, at last, she could ride the wave of her emotional collapse and let them out.
"I'm terrified of you."
The office was as silent as death.
"I'm afraid of you losing control, afraid of you getting angry, afraid you'll destroy everything around you just because something displeases you!
I'm afraid of you, you devil who only loves drinking milk. I'm afraid of you, you overgrown baby desperate for love... I'm afraid that one day you'll take everything I have away from me!"
"I have a child too."
Watching the hysterical Madelyn, Homelander was a little stunned.
He had actually imagined many possibilities.
She would apologize through her tears, keep making excuses, or wheedle and beg for mercy.
He had a bellyful of fury and had been ready to confront her, but the one thing he had never expected was for her to say something like this.
So that was it...
So all those late nights keeping him company, all that gentle reassurance, all those looks of concern-it had all been fucking fake.
He had thought Madelyn was different.
He had thought that in this cold Vought Tower, where everything was scheming and calculation, there was at least one person who genuinely cared about him.
But in the end, it had all been an act.
Homelander looked at the woman before him, her face streaming with tears, and the last traces of warmth in his heart slowly died out.
"Madelyn."
He slowly raised his hand, his fingertips gently brushing the tears from her face.
His movements were light, careful, and tender.
Homelander's eyes held a complicated mix of hurt and disappointment.
"So you're afraid of me."
He spoke softly.
"I always thought you were different."
With that, Homelander bent down slightly and pressed a light kiss to her forehead.
"It's all right."
His voice brushed her ear like a lover's murmur.
Then Homelander faced Madelyn head-on, simply gazing at her with deep affection as a tear spilled from the corner of his eye.
The next second, two beams of searing red light shot from his eyes without warning.
Madelyn's body slumped to the floor.
Homelander stood where he was, his eyes lowered to the corpse on the floor.
Only after a long time did he slowly raise his head.
The red glow in his blue eyes faded little by little, replaced by a cold resolve unlike anything that had ever been there before.
That black beast Edgar was still alive.
And there was his own son, who carried his blood.
Where on earth was he?