Chapter 21

The sterile white ceiling of Vought Tower's medical bay swam into focus as Homelander's eyes fluttered open. For a moment, he lay still, confused by the unfamiliar sensations coursing through his body. Pain. Stiffness. Soreness. These were feelings he had never experienced before, and they left him disoriented and uneasy.

Gingerly, he pushed himself up, wincing as his muscles protested. The movement caught the attention of a nearby nurse, who rushed to his side with a mixture of concern and barely concealed fear.

"Mr. Homelander, sir! You shouldn't be moving yet. Your injuries—"

"Are none of your concern," Homelander cut her off, his voice lacking its usual commanding presence. He caught sight of his reflection in a nearby monitor – disheveled hair, a fading bruise on his jaw. It was wrong. All of it was wrong.

Without another word, he stood, ignoring the startled gasps of the medical staff. He could feel their eyes on him, see the whispers passed between them. Pity. Shock. Maybe even a hint of satisfaction. It made his skin crawl.

In a burst of speed that left papers swirling in his wake, Homelander fled the medical bay, the tower, the suffocating presence of others. He needed to think, to process what had happened. And he couldn't do that under the microscopic scrutiny of Vought and its employees.

High above the city, Homelander hovered, the wind whipping through his hair. His mind raced, replaying the battle with Superman – with Clark Kent – over and over. The raw power, the fury in those eyes... and then, at the end, the hesitation.

"Why didn't you kill me?" Homelander muttered to himself, his brow furrowed in confusion. He had been at Superman's mercy, broken and bleeding on the Antarctic ice. It would have been so easy for Superman to end it there, to rid the world of Homelander once and for all. But he hadn't.

A memory surfaced, unbidden. Superman's voice, earnest and determined, during one of their earlier encounters: 'I believe you could do real good for this world, Homelander. If you choose to.'

At the time, Homelander had scoffed at the notion. But now, bruised and humbled, those words took on new meaning. Superman had seen something in him, something that even Homelander himself didn't believe existed anymore.

It was... unsettling. And yet, strangely comforting.

Homelander found himself chuckling, a bitter, confused sound. He should hate Superman. Should want nothing more than to tear him apart, to prove once and for all who the true god among men was. But he didn't. Instead, he felt an odd sense of... respect? Admiration, even?

"What are you doing to me, Superman?" Homelander whispered to the empty sky.

...

....

..

Meanwhile, in a pristine hospital room across the city, Misty Gray was startled from her thoughts by a soft knock at the door. She looked up, expecting to see a nurse or perhaps Clark returning. Instead, her eyes widened as Stan Edgar, the CEO of Vought International, stepped into the room.

"Miss Gray," Edgar said smoothly, his demeanor as polished and controlled as ever. "I trust I'm not interrupting?"

Misty straightened in her bed, wincing slightly at the movement. "Mr. Edgar. This is... unexpected."

Edgar's smile didn't quite reach his eyes as he took a seat beside her bed. "I make it a point to personally check on all of our valued employees when they're injured in the line of duty. Especially when the circumstances are as... unique as yours."

There was something in his tone that set Misty on edge. She'd dealt with Vought executives before, but Edgar was in a league of his own. Every word, every gesture seemed calculated for maximum effect.

"I appreciate the concern," Misty said carefully, "but I'm doing fine. The doctors say I'll make a full recovery."

Edgar nodded, his expression sympathetic. "I'm glad to hear it. We were all quite concerned when we heard about the attack. It's not often that one of our Supes is so grievously injured by... what was it? A group of common thugs?"

The lie in the official report hung heavy in the air between them. Misty met Edgar's gaze steadily, refusing to flinch. "As I said in my statement, it all happened very quickly. I'm just grateful that Su— that help arrived when it did."

"Ah, yes. Superman." Edgar leaned forward slightly, his interest palpable. "We've been quite curious about him here at Vought. Such power, such potential... and yet he remains outside our organization. I don't suppose you could shed any light on that situation?"

Misty's heart raced, but she kept her expression neutral. "I'm afraid I don't know much more than what's been reported publicly, Mr. Edgar. Superman tends to keep to himself."

Edgar's smile tightened almost imperceptibly. "Come now, Miss Gray. We both know that's not entirely true. Your... friendship with Superman is hardly a secret. Surely you must have some insight into his motivations, his true identity perhaps?"

The monitors beside Misty's bed began to beep more rapidly as her pulse quickened. She opened her mouth to respond, but was cut off by a sudden gust of wind and a familiar figure appearing in the doorway.

"I think that's quite enough questions for now, Mr. Edgar," Clark Kent said, his voice firm but polite. He moved to stand protectively beside Misty's bed. "Miss Gray needs her rest."

Edgar stood smoothly, adjusting his suit jacket. "Of course, of course. My apologies for the intrusion." He turned to leave, but paused at the door. "Oh, and Mr. Kent? Excellent work on your latest article. Your insights into the superhero phenomenon are always... illuminating."

With that, he was gone, leaving Clark and Misty alone in a tense silence.

Clark had a deep frown and even started to have regrettable thoughts. 'What if I just, got rid of him...? Wouldn't we all be sa-' Shaking his head, pushing the thoughts down into the abyss. Where they belong.

Turning towards Misty, he asked, "Are you okay?" softly, taking Misty's hand in his.

Misty nodded, letting out a shaky breath. "Yeah, I'm fine. But Clark... I think we might have a problem."

As the sun set over the city, casting long shadows across the bustling streets, the events of the day settled like a heavy blanket over its inhabitants. In his penthouse atop Vought Tower, Homelander stood at the window, staring out at the world he once thought he ruled.

In a hospital room, Misty and Clark spoke in hushed tones, weighing the implications of Edgar's visit.

And in his opulent office, Stan Edgar reviewed security footage of Superman's arrival at the hospital, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth.