Debut And Making A First Impression

(A/n - Originally I thought about having the MC do a little interview after he killed the tutor but quickly realised that wouldn't add much to the chapter, so I'm doing another time-skip to his debut as a superhero. Interview would've gone like this: 'Why did you kill him?' 'He tried to hurt an innocent person!' yada yada yada. Basically just John really nailing home the boy scout persona he's trying to sell to Vought.)

The crowd waited with bated breath, the sound of murmuring and the flickering of cameras being the only sounds within the massive auditorium. The space was dark, none of the flood or stage lights turned on all until two beams of light focused on two people walking on stage.

One was an older African-American man in a sharp suit, short hair that was obviously well-maintained and kept barely above his scalp in length. His round, rimless glasses shined, reflecting the light put onto his face and obscuring his eyes for a short period before they showed the dark eyes behind them. He smiled and held up a hand, waving to the crowd as a cacophony of sound from said crowd began to shake the stadium.

Cries of just nothing but sound, like the crowd had devolved into apes, as they screamed and shouted their support for the man in front of them on stage.

This was Stan Edgar. The CEO of Vought International. One of, if not the most, influential and powerful men on the planet.

Next to him and also subject to the crowds cheering, was an older blonde woman in her early thirties. Her light brown eyes looked over the crowd, crescent-shaped because of the beaming and very well practiced smile spread across her beautiful face. She was also wearing a suit but instead of a shirt she had a white blouse, no tie and was wearing looser dress pants when compared to the man next to her. Nevertheless, despite her casual appearance, she carried herself with just as much professionalism as Stan and her presence commanded around the same amount of awe and respect also.

This was Madelyn Stillwell, a higher up in Vought who was just below Stan Edgar in terms of power within the corporation.

As they walked into the center of the stage, they were the image of clean-cut powerful people yet they seemed so nice and polite. If only the crowd knew the atrocities these two people had committed--the horrible actions they'd taken to secure Vought's place at the top.

"Hello!" Madelyn said, the headset lavalier mic sending her voice throughout the entire stadium, her 'perfect' smile never leaving her face, "Hello," she repeated in a calmer tone. She came to a standstill, looking across the crowd with a smile that didn't really reach her eyes, "Thank you for the warm welcome! And let me say back to you - Welcome! Welcome to the Vought International's newest reveal of a superhero who's joined us to fight the good fight!" she gestured heavily with her hands, the gestures akin to that of a conductor's movements in front of an orchestra in the way that Madelyn easily controlled the crowd in front of her and their reactions.

A few moments of continued cheering went by until Madelyn raised her hands to calm the crowd. Despite their earlier fervour, they quickly stopped, and she continued, "Here at Vought International we have one goal: Keeping you, the public, safe," a few 'whoops' and 'yeah!'s echoed through the stadium before Madelyn went on, "And to do that, we take people who are born with magnificent gifts, train them, suit them up and support them. It's the truth when I say that America is the only country with the divine right to have Supers born within it's borders. And it's Vought's mission to make sure these brilliant people are put on the right path."

The cheers returned, even louder and intense than before. No doubt in anyone's mind what Vought's intentions might actually be. No. They just ate up the shit placed in front of them and they ate it with a smile on their faces and a blindfold wrapped around their head.

This time, Madelyn didn't continue. Instead, Stan did. A more subdued but obviously friendly smile came across his face, a face which didn't seem used to smiling like so, and he spoke.

"It's exactly how Madelyn put it. Vought is here to help America and the wonderful people who live there. And believe me when I say that the newest super we'll be introducing today wants nothing more than to help America," he stopped talking and began walking along the edge of the stage. Unlike with Madelyn, everyone was silent as Stan spoke - not out of fear but out of pure curiosity so intense it seemed to rob them of their ability to speak. "He's an all-American man. A patriot that wouldn't lose out to Soldier Boy* himself. Ladies and gentleman, please, welcome to the stage," he held his arms out and looked up to where the roof of the stadium was opening up, "The latest, and might I say, greatest addition to the Vought crime-fighting family, The Homelander!"

(*A/n - Whenever I see this, I can't help but think of Soulja Boy.)

Cheers rang out throughout the stadium for a few seconds, their curiosity sated and leaving their unabated enthusiasm and fanaticism for supes. But then the cheering began to die out...as no one came in through the opening in the roof. The crowd went silent and the smiles on both Stan's and Madelyn's faces stiffened, slowly grinding down into a more neutral expression.

Madelyn looked off to the side of the stage, her eyes widening as she tried to gesture the staff on Homelander's whereabouts. Yet no one knew.

But before anything else happened, someone in the crowd caught a glimpse of an object quickly coming toward them. It wasn't shaped like a man. Or a missile. Or even a plane. It looked like...an armoured truck?

A crack of sound ran throughout the stadium, rattling everyone's eardrums. A sonic boom.

The person who saw the outline in the sky pointed and caught the attention of others in the crowd. Some joined the pointing, nudging their friends and family to look, while others pulled out phones and began recording the event. Not even two seconds later, it was clear what the outline was. It was an armoured truck, but what really caught their attention was the man holding it.

As he landed on the stage, the metal creaked below the weight and he slowly lowered the vehicle down onto the ground. He walked around the truck, opened the back doors and pulled out four men, two at a time. They were tied up, bloodied in the face and eyes swollen shut in an almost comical way. And yet everyone was still looking at the man, unable to look away from him as if he emitted a sort of magnetic charisma that made it so looking away from him seemed impossible.

And when he turned to the crowd, a smile of pearly white teeth on his face...everyone was enraptured by him.

The suit he was in was one that captured their eyes. A dark blue body suit that clung to his body, red gauntlet-like gloves that covered his hands and reached up his forearm before stopping just below his elbow and a cape of the traditional American nation colours flowing behind him. Two metal eagle heads, golden in colour, sat on his shoulders like the spaulders of the knights of old.

It was like the patriotism of America, given physical form.

He was tall. 6'4" at least. Flawless skin, perfect dentition, beautiful, golden blond hair slicked back in a way that was both casual and stylish. His body was one of perfection with brawny and well-toned muscles and each proportion being just the right size. It would be safe to say no one in the audience could even believe he was real and not some hologram or handcrafted android made especially to look like the embodiment of masculinity. Yet they knew he was real. The moment he appeared before them, the presence he exuded felt exactly like the sun in the sky. Ever present and irrefutable.

Then he spoke.

"Sorry folks," his deep voice was smooth and easy on the ears unlike some deep voices, his smile only getting wider as he gestured to the downed and tied up criminals next to him, "While I was waiting above the stadium I saw these guys robbing an armoured truck and...well, even when I'm not on duty officially I've still got a duty to fulfill." He turned away from the crowd and toward Madelyn and Stan, "Ms. Stillwell, Mr. Edgar, sorry about being late," he flashed them a smile and Madelyn tightened her thighs together as a streak of heat flashed through her core at the downright unreal man in front of her*.

(*A/n - There will be no romance between John and Madelyn Stillwell. She's a manipulative prick who only cares about herself, her's & Vought's interests and eventually her future son. Everyone else is free real estate for her to fuck over. Not to say that any R18 action is off the table but if I do it, it'll be a one-time thing to release pent up frustration or whatever. John, while superhuman, is still a human. Human's have needs.)

Stan on the other hand narrowed his eyes at Homelander before giving him a nod and smile in return and then he turned back to the crowd, "As you can see Homelander takes his job very seriously," he emphasised the 'very' while casting a quick glance at the man in question, "Even when not required to, he still does the absolute best for the public!"

Then the crowd erupted once more, the cameras flashing near incessantly and all the lights focused on the herculean man on stage.

"Not since Soldier Boy, has Vought been so excited to work with a superhero of the Homelander's calibre," Madelyn added, tearing her gaze from the derriere of Homelander and addressing the crowd, "He's here today to show himself to the world, so, if any of you have any questions please ask them!"

"The Homelander!" one of the journalists, a man in his mid-thirties, hand holding a pen raised to get the attention of the blond superhero, "What made you decide to join up with Vought?" he asked and then lowered his hand back down to his notepad, all his attention and the crowds on Homelander.

Homelander, or John, regarded the question with a thoughtful expression before smiling in a nostalgic manner. He walked up to the edge of the stage, hands clasped behind him, and then answered, "I used to play football. A small time team in a small town - one none of you would be able to say you knew. And I was pretty good at it. Had a chance to go to the big leagues, no doubt," he stopped, tightening the grip around his own hand as unwanted memories sprung up* but the crowd was oblivious to such an action, "But when I awoke these powers, well, I had to give up the sport."

(*A/n - Read the author note because I wanna talk about this memory thing.)

"And why was that?" the journalist who'd first asked the question asked a follow-up.

"Well, with the powers I have," John gestured to the armoured truck next to him, "I don't think a normal line backer would be able to handle me," he joked and the audience laughed at the humor and down-to-earth attitude of the supe in front of them. John's smile left his face as he gestured to himself, "But honestly? I gave it up because me playing on that field would be a disrespect to every other player on the field. All their training. All the blood, sweat and tears they put into the game. Honestly? I gave up the game because it was the right thing to do."

The crowd went silent for a moment before clapping at the answer, some cheers thrown in here and there. The people could feel a sense of sincerity from the supe in front of them - one they hadn't felt from many, if any, other supes. It made them feel safer.

Whether that was the truth or if they just fooled themselves into believing it.

"Thank you," John raised his hands to calm the crowd, "Thank you. But I don't need your claps for doing something anyone should've done," he smiled, his words even when denying the crowd's claps only further improving the crowd's positive outlook on the new hero. "To answer your question, Mr. Harlow," John read the man's lanyard for his name, gaining a few gasps seeing as the distance between the two of them was dozens of meters, "I joined Vought because when I left that team I had nothing else going for me. My dream was to play football at the highest level and when I gave it up, I knew I couldn't go back even if I wanted to. But then Vought came along and helped me. Gave me new purpose. Trained me and got me ready for the work I'd be doing. And I'll continue working for them as long as they'll have me!" he finished off with what would soon be known as his signature beaming smile.

Once more, the crowd went absolutely wild. Madelyn Stillwell and Stan Edgar both knew that with John, they had a hit. A massive, gigantic hit.

"New York's a lot rougher than some small town football team, Mr. Homelander, how are you getting ready for everything this city can throw at you?" a woman asked, a microphone in her hand as she sat near the back of the stadium.

"A good question, and one I can see is asked with good intent," John started answering, nodding as he did so before he once again gestured to the truck and criminals he'd brought along with him, "But I can say with absolute certainty that I've been prepared by Vought to do whatever the city needs me to do. And I'm not going into this alone - Vought has teamed me up with a man you all know and love," he pointed off stage and to left, "Black Noir!"

The spotlight stopped being shined down on Homelander and was redirected to a shorter man dressed in all black and with his face covered as he walked onto the stage, hands raised as he waved at the crowd who were going downright hysterical in their cheers for the man.

John, unknown to everyone else, scanned over the man with his x-ray vision. Low powered, of course, and just enough to look through his mask. He quickly found he wasn't a clone of himself and stopped his snooping. It was good to know he wasn't dealing with a spliced version of the comics and the TV show at least, though he knew there was still a chance Vought had a clone of him somewhere in the works so he didn't let go of any of his plans for if that was the case. All he did was cross out Black Noir's name in his head as a possible clone.

. . .

"This was supposed to be your big debut!" Madelyn huffed, feigning indignation on John's behalf as they walked through the halls of the building they were in, "Your big moment, and he puts Noir up there with you?" she turned to John, "You should be fucking upset about this. He basically ruined all that work you put in trying to make an impression and for what? Because he wants you to have a fucking babysitter."

John looked down at Madelyn, nothing showing in his eyes but his mind filled with contempt, 'So full of herself and driven by ambition to a fault. She's treating me like a product to be sold - which is her job - but still...not being treated like a human feels like shit. Though I suppose it's not the worst crime on Vought's very long list of crimes.'

"Whatever Mr. Edgar thinks is best, is most likely best. Whether that's for Black Noir to show me the ropes or to watch over me to make sure I don't mess up, it is what it is," John gave her a grin, well-aware of the effect it had on her, "I'm just here to help out. Doesn't matter how I do it, really."

Seeming pushed to outrage by her own body's reaction to his smile, and knowing he knew exactly the effect he was having, Madelyn scowled, "I nearly forgot about what they told me. You're goddamn boy scout," she said the last part under her breath, holding her forehead with a hand and closing her eyes as if to show she had a headache. John couldn't see any abnormalities in her body outside of obvious sexual arousal - but what did he know. He wasn't a doctor. All he had was x-ray vision and an enhanced sense of smell.

Things went silent between the two for a few seconds before Madelyn piped up once more.

"Do you think Noir wants you in his number one spot? Not likely. The slightest mistake he can find, or make up, and you're gonna be held accountable," she looked up at him, the height disparity between the two especially apparent as close as they were right now. Seeing she wasn't getting through to John, Madelyn got in closer and traced her fingers across his abs*, "Being on stage...All those people who wanted to be you, be with you," she leaned closer to them as she gave a sultry whisper, "Or fuck you. It felt good, right?"

(*A/n - She fucking did this to Homelander in 'The Boys Diabolical', so I'm not just making this shit up lol.)

John just gave her a smile. He'd admit she was a beautiful woman and he could see how the original Homelander fell for her charming seduction...but he wasn't a lonely man-child with mommy issues. He also had the added benefit of knowing just how far she was willing to go, to steal and to lie when it suited her.

"Sure, it wasn't bad but it hardly seems relevant how Black Noir plays into that," he said and Madelyn raised an eyebrow at his answer, so he elaborated, "Him gathering the attention just one time isn't too big a deal, Ms. Stillwell. You see, people are more likely to trust a person who's face they can see. When you see a person smile," he gestured to his own, "You're more likely to trust them even if it's just a subconscious result on your part. People can't see Noir smile. They can't hear him speak. And as far as they know he witnesses all sorts of atrocities with a blank expression - even if they don't actively think or talk about it, the thought is still there, deep in the back of their mind."

He pulled away from Madelyn and stepped to the side before walking passed her, turning to look back at her as he said the last thing he had to, "I'll get all the attention I need with my actions. Not some scheme cooked up by the PR department at Vought. I'll make sure to share the credit with you, though, so don't worry. You'll get the extra influence, Madelyn," he winked at her and then walked away.

Which left Madelyn, grinding her teeth and jaw shut. Her manipulations seen through and sidestepped so easily left a bad taste in her mouth...yet she could work with confidence like Homelander's. An image of a hero who always smiles, a down-to-earth country boy who people can relate to.

As much as his words had irked her - because they slapped her manipulations in the face - she could see he was right.

People loved a face they could see, rather than a blank mask. Especially in the hero business.