Chapter 20

The soft beeping of medical equipment filled the air as morning light streamed through the hospital room window. Clark Kent sat beside Misty's bed, his large hand gently enveloping her smaller one. Despite the joy of their newfound love, a cloud of worry hung over them both.

Misty stirred, wincing slightly as she adjusted her position. "Clark," she said softly, her voice still hoarse from sleep. "You look like you haven't slept a wink."

Clark managed a small smile, the dark circles under his eyes betraying his exhaustion. "I couldn't. Not while you were..." He trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

Misty squeezed his hand reassuringly. "I'm okay now. Thanks to you." She paused, her brow furrowing. "But the world out there... it still needs Superman."

Clark's shoulders sagged. The weight of responsibility settled back onto him like a heavy cloak. "I know. But I don't want to leave you. What if he comes back...?"

Misty's eyes sparkled with a familiar determination. "Clark Kent, you listen to me. You are hope personified." She paused, "When we first met at that pageant all those years ago, I was in a black hole mentally. Bitter, angry, and vengeful, and I hated myself. But then you happened."

Misty, trying not to get emotional said, "Every moment you spend here is a moment someone out there might need you. What if there's someone like me, who needs a Clark Kent or Superman? I'll be fine. Go be the hero I know you are."

Clark leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead. "What did I do to deserve you?"

"I ask myself that question every time I see you..," Misty replied simply. "Now go. Save the world darlin'."

With a reluctant nod, Clark stood. In a blur of motion, he changed into his suit and was gone, leaving only a gust of wind in his wake.

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Meanwhile, across the country, a very different scene was unfolding at Vought Tower. The normally pristine lobby was a flurry of activity as medical staff rushed to and fro. At the center of it all stood Homelander, his symbolic star-spangled cape, torn. His blue suit was torn and stained with blood, and his usually impeccable blonde hair was disheveled.

The other members of The Seven watched from a distance, a mixture of shock and fear on their faces. They had no words.

"Holy shit..." the Deep said nervously.

Even Black Noir, usually stoic and unreadable, seemed unsettled by the sight of their leader in such a state.

Queen Maeve, however, was happy. 'Motherfucker finally got what he deserved, if only they'd finished the job...'

While she was elated this cartoonishly evil manbaby was beaten. She observed the scene with narrowed eyes, her mind racing. This was still unprecedented. Homelander, considered to be the strongest among them, if not the world by many, had been beaten. And not just beaten – thoroughly thrashed. The implications were staggering.

As the medical team fussed over Homelander, Maeve slipped away, finding another room. She pulled out her phone, hesitating for just a moment before dialing a number she'd sworn never to use.

"It's me," she said quietly when the call connected. "We need to talk about him. Yes, Superman."

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Across the city, Annie January, known to the world as Starlight, sat on the edge of a rooftop, her legs dangling over the side. Her phone buzzed with worried messages from Hughie, but she couldn't bring herself to respond just yet.

Her mind kept replaying the conversation she'd had with Clark just weeks ago. The panic and seriousness in his voice when he informed her that something personal needed his immediate attention, she couldn't get that unfamiliar image out of her head. At the time, she'd thought he was being overly cautious about the safety of his parents. Now, she understood.

Homelander, whatever he did, was a grave miscalculation.

The destruction in Antarctica was all over the news. Satellite images showed a landscape that would be forever changed. Some scientists feared that diseases from thousands of years ago could make a return, but that was quickly pushed aside in her mind. Why? The reports coming out of Vought... Annie shuddered.

She'd always known Clark was powerful. But this? This was something else entirely. She'd never seen him angry or disrespectful toward others even when he had every right to act in such a manner.

For the first time since she'd known him, Annie felt a flicker of fear when she thought of her friend.

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As Superman soared over the city, his super-hearing picked up countless cries for help. A burning building in Queens. A multi-car pileup on the freeway. A child lost in Central Park. With each crisis averted, each life saved, Clark felt the darkness that had consumed him during his fight with Homelander recede a little more.

Yet even as he worked, a part of his mind remained troubled. Homelander's words echoed in his thoughts. 'You're just like me. A monster playing dress-up as a hero.' Clark pushed the doubts aside, focusing on the task at hand. He couldn't afford to second-guess himself. Not now.

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Far to the south, in a top-secret facility buried deep beneath the Antarctic ice, Grace Mallory stood before a bank of monitors. Each screen showed a different angle of the battle between Superman and Homelander, captured by hidden cameras scattered across the frozen continent.

"Play it again," she ordered, her voice tight with tension.

As the footage replayed, Mallory's frown deepened. The raw power on display was beyond anything they'd prepared for. Superman had always been an unknown quantity, a wild card in their carefully laid plans. But this... this changed everything.

"Get me the Secretary of Defense," Mallory snapped to an aide. "We need to reevaluate our containment protocols. All of them."

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As night fell over the city, Clark returned to the hospital, slipping silently through Misty's window. She was asleep, her face peaceful in the soft glow of the monitors.

Clark sank into the chair beside her bed, the events of the day weighing heavily upon him. He'd saved countless lives, yes. But the doubt remained, gnawing at the edges of his conscience.

As he watched Misty sleep, Clark made a silent vow. He would be better. Stronger. Not just in body, but in spirit. He would prove Homelander wrong, prove to himself that he was nothing like the twisted leader of The Seven.

Because the world needed Superman. Not as a god or a monster, but as a beacon of hope. And that was exactly what he intended to be.

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A/N: Shorter chapter today, life things. Anyway, chapters for my other novels are being worked on as well. Enjoy your day!