I'm a Homelander

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Homelander thought he was perfect, and he was. A clear mind, a perfect body, a super being in the flesh. Maybe with psychological defects, however minor. But there was a small flaw that, though not as severe, bothered him. And one that proved in practice that he was far from perfect.

Any organism lives only for one purpose, with which it is born and with which it dies. And that purpose is progeny. Giving life is something almost anyone can do, but not a super. All supers are sterile the moment they receive their powers. One-of-a-kind, like androids that only mimic human behaviour. However.

- Say that again, please. - I asked her, not believing my own ears.

- You have a son. - Repeated Madeline, only this time there was no perennial smile on her face.

- How old is he?

- He's eight. - The woman replied with a tightening of her lips.

- You mean you kept your son's existence from me for eight years? - Her eyes glowed red, but there was no rage in them, only interest.

It was enough to make her fear for her life. Her heartbeat quickened, and I could clearly see the droplets of sweat on her forehead. And it was crystal clear to me why they were hiding their son from his father. It's simple: A homelander makes a good father like Gandhi makes a terrorist.

He's a narcissistic psychopath who thinks he's not just superhuman, but almost God. That's how you could characterise Homelander. He doesn't know how to love, friendship and mateship are just tools. And the only thing that could manipulate him was his attachment to Stillwell.

He would spoil his son, making him a second self, only much worse. That's the kind of thing Vaught's superiors just couldn't allow. Except that I remembered exactly what they had done years ago to the boy they would call Homelander. A hand stuck in a furnace was the most harmless of the experiments, let alone total isolation for months or being shoved into a huge aquarium until he passed out. Testing of all sorts of weapons and toxic substances was best left out.

I didn't even notice the eyes shone much brighter and much more sinister, and the eyebrows furrowed. If they do a third of what Homelander did to that kid... I'll wipe out the whole top of Wout.

- His mother asked us! - Madeline almost shrieked, huddling on the couch.

At those words, I froze, and the red light in my eyes slowly faded.

- Who is she?

- Rebecca Butcher, she worked for us as our digital marketing director. - Madeline exhaled softly, seeing that my eyes weren't going to burn through her.

- I see - I remembered that name and the woman herself... as well as the difficult circumstances of my son's conception.

Classic workplace harassment. Another event to celebrate a meaningless record invented by marketers. And the boredom of the idiot who decided to play fucking NTR with Rebecca Butcher who got there with her husband. The mere threat of being kicked out of the company did the trick. And the desperate girl chose her career over her husband, who was just a few metres away from them at the time.

- She's raising him on her own, isn't she? - I asked, realising that Rebecca might have originally turned her son against superhumans, especially the Homelander. But it was hard to believe, for Wout would not like that.

- Yes. They live in a large area surrounded by concrete walls.

- I recognise your methods. - He grinned evilly as he saw her look away.

- Nothing's been done to him. No experiments, he lives with his mother and grows up like a normal child. - The woman began to justify herself, and I had to believe her, because I saw right through her. Literally.

- What's his name? Not John Doe, I hope? - I arched an eyebrow questioningly, involuntarily recalling the name on the Homelander's passport. Except he hadn't been called that name in a long time.

- His name is Ryan.

- What a fitting name for a little king," he snorted under his breath as he approached the woman, unhurriedly and calmly. - So, are you going to tell me where they are?

- Homelander...

- You have no right to ask anything of me, having kept my son locked away for so many years. - My brow furrowed.

- We don't keep them locked up, and they can leave at any time. We only keep watch to supervise the activation of abilities if that happens. - She assured me, except....

- Did you remember? I can easily recognise a lie, especially one so blatant. - I said grudgingly, touching her chin and lifting her head.

- I'm sorry. - She swallowed the stringy saliva, staring straight into my eyes.

- It's only because of our long friendship that I'll let you walk this mortal earth, but don't think I'll forget what you did.

After a couple of minutes, I watched through the wall as Madeline walked on stiff legs to the lift. She was still tense and her heart was racing. Surely she must suspect she was still being watched. With a chuckle, he averted his eyes and stopped following her. It was more important to think about how I was going to meet my son. Of course, at first glance it doesn't make sense, because why would I want to meet someone else's child? I'm not a Homelander, but it's my body now, and I couldn't help but realise the Vought leaders' intentions.

Homelander is the strongest superhero and there's no way to kill him. All attempts to create a comparable power super have continually failed, the same Queen Maeve being one of them. And now there's a kid who could, in theory, inherit all of my power. And if they couldn't raise a fully devoted superhuman with him, they could with his son, if they took a different approach. And for some reason, I really didn't want a weapon wielded by a group of unscrupulous bastards against me.

Sighing, I made my way to the wardrobe and opened the doors to see as many as four identical superhero costumes in front of me. Silently closing the doors, he turned round and flew out over the balcony. I definitely can't meet my son like this. I don't think the child will be happy to see a freak in front of him, even though he is world-famous. First and foremost, you have to present yourself as a human being, not a bloody demigod. So we'll have to postpone the acquaintance.

But I wasn't going to leave him for a day. I had to be careful with Wout, because they might substitute the child with another one, giving him the V drug. I couldn't let that happen, so I was flying at full speed, over ten thousand kilometres an hour. So it's no wonder it only took me about ten minutes to get there.

Hovering over a huge area, really surrounded by walls, I looked down. Through the walls and clouds my eyes counted only thirty-odd people working here. But only two people caught my attention. One woman and the only child in the entire area, a boy with brown hair and blue eyes. They were cuddled together on the sofa, watching some melodrama on TV.

Without looking at this picture for a long time, I just flew back. The problem with simple clothes was solved quickly enough by simply asking Ashley to bring some decent clothes. Unfortunately, the only clothes I liked were a white shirt and black trousers. Everything else was a little too colourful for my taste.

For the first time in a couple of days, I decided to use my feet to get out of the building. I was starting to rely too much on my newly acquired powers. The main thing was to style my hair in a way that made it look sloppy. That wasn't too difficult. I found the John Doe look at the nearest clothing shop.

- They look very good on you. - Complimented by the girl behind the cash register.

- Thank you. - I smiled at her, glancing at the mirror.

It wasn't Homelander looking at me, at least he wouldn't wear glasses. Yes, I could call it plagiarism, but who could blame me? Even though it's common to make fun of Superman for his way of hiding his identity, that doesn't negate its effectiveness.

After all, readers or viewers can look at everything from the outside and Superman and Clark Kent look the same to them. But what many people don't take into account is that to people, Superman is always Superman. He doesn't hide his face under a mask, which means he doesn't hide his identity. He has a very official name, Kal-El. He even has a very official title.

So it's the same as if people suspect Will Smith of also being some sort of Karl. It's as if the all pathetic and authoritative Will Smith changes into cheap clothes and becomes Carl working as a shoe salesman. It's absurd.

No one recognises Superman in Clark Kent, even though they notice the resemblance between the clumsy and inattentive reporter and the superhero. I didn't get recognised at all when I walked past people. The image of the Homelander, the perfect man with perfect hair and a permanent smile on his lips, didn't fit with John Doe. And with glasses that made my blue eyes less obvious, no one would even suspect me of being a Homelander.

I even remembered a moment from Back to the Future 2 when they showed the future McFly family. How I thought I could tell the son from the father, even though it was the same actor. And all I had to do was wet the kid's hair and play the panicked teenager. So I took a completely relaxed walk in the park, taking a break from the hustle and bustle that had come over me these past couple of days. I even bought myself a creamy ice cream, which it seemed like I hadn't had in a year, and sat down on a bench.- Peace is the parent of all great thoughts. - Involuntarily I remembered a quote by Joseph Goebbels, which suited the situation just fine.

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