Chapter 22
The "Believe" Expo buzzed with an electric energy, a sea of devoted followers flooding the convention center. Banners emblazoned with the faces of The Seven hung from every rafter, their larger-than-life visages smiling down upon the masses. The air was thick with a heady mixture of faith, hero worship, and barely contained hysteria.
Amidst the chaos, The Boys moved with practiced stealth. Hughie, his nerves jangling, adjusted the collar of his security uniform for the thousandth time. Frenchie's voice crackled in his earpiece, a steady stream of instructions guiding him through the crowded halls.
"Remember, petit Hughie," Frenchie murmured, "you are invisible. Just another face in the crowd. Keep your eyes open and your mouth shut."
Hughie nodded, then remembered Frenchie couldn't see him. "Right, got it," he whispered, trying to keep the tremor out of his voice.
As he weaved through the throng of attendees, Hughie caught sight of a familiar face on one of the many screens dotting the convention center. Firecracker – Misty Gray – was being interviewed, her smile bright but her eyes betraying a hint of unease.
"And how does it feel to be here at the Believe Expo, Firecracker?" the peppy interviewer asked.
Misty's laugh sounded slightly forced. "Oh, it's always an honor to meet the fans. Their faith in us, in what we do... it's truly humbling."
Hughie frowned, noting the tension in her shoulders. Something was off.
Backstage, away from the adoring crowds and flashing cameras, Misty paced nervously in her dressing room. Her hands shook as she attempted to touch up her makeup, the mascara wand clattering to the floor.
"Get it together, Gray," she muttered to herself, closing her eyes and taking a deep breath.
A knock at the door made her jump. "Five minutes, Miss Firecracker!" a chipper voice called out.
"Thank you," Misty replied, surprised at how steady her voice sounded. She stood, smoothing down her costume, and headed for the door.
As she stepped into the hallway, a flash of gold and blue caught her eye. Homelander stood at the end of the corridor, deep in conversation with a Vought executive. Misty froze, her heart pounding in her chest.
Homelander turned, his piercing blue eyes locking onto hers. For a moment, neither moved. Then, almost imperceptibly, Homelander nodded in acknowledgment before turning back to his conversation.
It was too much. The memories of that night, of Homelander's casual cruelty, came flooding back. Misty couldn't respond. With a choked sob, she turned and fled, pushing past startled staff members. She had to get away, had to find somewhere safe, had to—
She collided with someone, strong hands steadying her. Misty looked up, expecting to see Clark's concerned face. Instead, she found herself staring into the surprised eyes of Annie January.
"Misty," Annie began, her voice hesitant. "Are you okay? You look—"
"I'm fine," Misty snapped, her panic giving way to anger. "What do you care, anyway?"
Annie flinched at the venom in Misty's voice. "Of course, I care. We used to be friends, remember?"
"Friends?" Misty repeated incredulously. "Y-you ruined my life..."
The accusation hung in the air, sharp and painful. Annie's expression hardened. "That's not fair, and you know it. I was an idiot.."
"There's always a choice," Misty retorted. "But I guess the allure of fame and fortune was too much to resist, huh?"
Annie's eyes flashed with hurt and anger. "You have no idea what I've been through, what I've had to do to survive in this fucking 'superhero' world. At least you had people looking out for you. People like Clark."
'This spoiled bitch...' she thought, Misty used everything she had to not strangle Starlight. She doesn't know what it's like to starve, sleep on the floor, or watch your parents feed you over buying themselves prescription drugs.
And the mention of Clark's name was like touching a live wire. Misty's temper, already frayed, snapped completely. "Don't you dare bring him into this! You don't know anything about him, about us."
Staff members, backstage teams, and volunteers looked on in confusion and shock before turning away. Sometimes, these supes freaked them out.
"Us?" Annie's eyebrows shot up. Her eyes narrowed. "What do you mean, 'us'?"
Misty realized her mistake too late. She backpedaled, scrambling for a cover. "I mean... he's my friend. A good friend. Unlike some people."
The implication was clear, and it struck Annie like a physical blow. "Misty, I... I never meant to hurt you. Any of you. It was a mistake."
"Yeah? And how's that working out for you?" Misty's voice dripped with sarcasm. "Enjoying your place among the world's mightiest 'superheroes'?"
Before Annie could respond, a commotion from the main stage drew their attention. Homelander's voice boomed through the speakers, whipping the crowd into a frenzy. Both women tensed, their personal drama momentarily forgotten in the face of a greater threat.
"We should get back," Annie said quietly. "Before we're missed."
Misty nodded stiffly, already turning away. "This changes nothing between us, Annie. Nothing."
As the two heroines made their way back to their respective positions, neither noticed the small device blinking quietly in the corner, recording every word of their heated exchange.
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Miles above the Earth's surface, Clark Kent hovered, his eyes closed in concentration. The warmth of the sun washed over him, seeping into his very cells. He could feel it now, the connection between his powers and the solar radiation. It was intoxicating and terrifying.
With each passing moment, he felt stronger, faster, more alive than ever before. New abilities flickered at the edges of his consciousness – enhanced senses, a deeper connection to the world around him.
But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough to face the challenges that lay ahead. To protect Misty, to stand against Vought and The Seven, to be the hero the world needed...
Clark opened his eyes, gazing up at the distant sun. An idea formed, reckless and potentially dangerous. But if he was right, if the sun truly was the source of his power...
Without allowing himself to second-guess, Clark shot upward, accelerating to speeds he'd never before attempted. The blue of the sky gave way to the inky blackness of space, the air thinning around him until there was nothing but silence and starlight.
And still he flew, pushing himself further, faster. The sun grew larger in his vision, its heat intensifying. Warning signals flared in his mind – too much, too fast, too dangerous. But Clark pressed on, driven by determination and an almost primal need to test his limits.
As he drew closer to the sun than any human had ever been, Clark felt a surge of power unlike anything he'd experienced before. Every cell in his body seemed to ignite, flooded with pure solar energy. New abilities blossomed in his mind, while existing ones expanded exponentially.
For a moment, suspended between the Earth and the sun, Clark Kent truly felt like... a god. 'We're both monsters just playing dress up', the voice of Homelander echoed in his mind...
No....
But even 'gods' have limits. As the solar radiation reached a critical point, Clark felt an overcharging and searing pain course through his body. With a cry that was lost in the vacuum of space, he turned and fled, streaking back towards the safety of Earth's atmosphere.
As he plummeted through the sky, his suit smoking and his body wracked with pain, Clark's mind raced. He had done it – pushed beyond his limits, unlocked new depths of power.