Chapter 20: The Calm Before The Storm

Elsewhere, in the sleek, high-tech headquarters of Wang Ling's company, the atmosphere was one of triumph. The launch of the MedPood300 had gone better than anyone had expected, and the device was already making waves in the market. The pharmaceutical giants were scrambling, their stocks plummeting as consumers flocked to the new, innovative product.

But Wang Ling wasn't satisfied. He knew that his success had made him enemies, powerful enemies who wouldn't hesitate to destroy him if given the chance. He had to stay ahead of the game, anticipate their moves, and strike first.

In his private office, Wang Ling sat at his desk, surrounded by screens displaying data and reports. His mind was sharp, focused, as he considered his next steps. He knew that the pharmaceutical companies would stop at nothing to either acquire his technology or destroy it, and he had to be ready for whatever they threw at him.

With a cold, calculating smile, Wang Ling reached for his phone. He had contacts, powerful ones, and it was time to put them to use. If the pharmaceutical companies wanted a fight, he would give them one. But it would be on his terms, and he had no intention of losing.

As he made his calls, setting his plans into motion, Wang Ling felt a sense of satisfaction. The game was just beginning, and he was ready to play.

Back at Becca's cabin, the atmosphere had finally relaxed, the tension giving way to a sense of cautious hope. As the night wore on, Marcus, Butcher, Becca, and Ryan settled into the comfort of being together as a family although only temporarily.

But outside, the world was still turning, and the dangers that lurked in the shadows were ever-present. Vought's investigations were intensifying, A-Train's doubts were growing, and Wang Ling's machinations were just beginning.

In the calm of the house, none of them knew what was coming.The calm before the storm was always the most deceptive.

The night sky stretched above Homelander as he stood on the edge of a rooftop, gazing out over the city with a bored expression. The towering skyscrapers and twinkling lights of New York had long since lost their luster for him. He had seen it all, heard it all-nothing surprised him anymore.

He flexed his fingers absentmindedly, the faint glow of his laser vision flickering in his eyes as he scanned the streets below. Being the most powerful man on the planet came with its perks, but it also left him with an insatiable hunger for something more- something that would break the monotony of his existence.

Lately, he'd taken to eavesdropping on Vought executives during their late-night escapades. It was a small amusement, listening in on their secrets and power plays, reminding himself that he controlled their fates. He was the real power behind the throne, and they were nothing but puppets dancing on his strings.

Tonight was no different. Homelander hovered above a building where one of Vought's senior executives, Mr. Caldwell, was having a private conversation with a colleague on a secluded rooftop. The two men stood by the railing, their voices low but clear enough for Homelander's superhuman hearing to catch every word.

He listened in, barely interested in their discussion about stock prices and potential mergers, until one word caught his attention: "Ryan."

Homelander's eyes narrowed, his focus sharpening as he honed in on the conversation.

"...and what about the boy?" Caldwell's colleague asked, his tone hushed and cautious.

Caldwell hesitated, glancing around nervously as if expecting someone to overhear them. "We've kept it under wraps for now," he replied. "But it's only a matter of time before Homelander finds out. You know how he is nothing stays hidden from him for long."

Homelander's heart skipped a beat. Boy? He leaned in closer, his curiosity piqued. What boy?

"Becca's done a good job of keeping him out of sight," Caldwell continued, "but it's not sustainable. Sooner or later, someone's going to slip up, and when they do..." He trailed off, the implication clear.

The color drained from Homelander's face as the realization hit him like a freight train. A son. His son. Ryan. The memories of Becca flooded back to him-her defiance, her resistance, and now, the truth that she had hidden from him for years.

His rage bubbled up, threatening to boil over. They had kept this from him, all of them-Vought, Bесса, everyone. They had stolen his son, denied him his rightful place as a father. He was the most powerful man alive, and yet they had dared to deceive him.

Without warning, Homelander descended from the sky, landing silently on the rooftop behind the two Vought executives. His sudden presence sent a gust of wind across the rooftop, causing Caldwell and his colleague to freeze mid-conversation. The two men turned slowly, their faces draining of color as they recognized the figure before them.

"Homelander!" Caldwell stammered, attempting to regain his composure. "We... we didn't know you were—

"Homelander's eyes glowed red with barely contained fury. "A son?" he growled, his voice a low, menacing rumble. "You kept my son from me?"

The air seemed to crackle with tension. Caldwell took a step back, his hands raised in a placating gesture. "It wasn't our decision," he said quickly, his voice trembling. "We were just following orders. Please, you have to understand—"

"Who gave those orders?" Homelander interrupted, his voice calm but deadly. "Who thought they could keep this from me?"

Caldwell's colleague, a man named Harris, tried to speak up, but his words faltered under Homelander's intense gaze. "It was… it was a collective decision," he stammered. "We thought it would be best, for the boy's sake. You were… volatile."

The word hung in the air like a poisonous cloud, and Homelander's smile was thin, a cruel twist of his lips. "Volatile?" he repeated softly. "You think I'm volatile?"

Harris nodded slowly, his face drenched in sweat. "We—"

Homelander moved so fast that neither man saw him until it was too late. His hand shot out, gripping Harris's throat with a crushing force. The man gasped, his eyes wide with terror as he felt the fingers tighten around his windpipe.

"Do you think I'm volatile now?" Homelander whispered, his voice ice-cold.

Harris tried to respond, but only a strangled wheeze escaped his lips. Homelander's grip tightened further, his smile never wavering as he lifted Harris off the ground effortlessly. The man's feet dangled in the air, his hands clawing uselessly at Homelander's arm.

"I asked you a question," Homelander said, his tone almost conversational. "Do you think I'm volatile now?"

Harris's eyes bulged, his face turning a deep shade of purple as he struggled to breathe. Homelander watched him for a moment longer, his expression almost serene, before casually snapping his neck with a sickening crack. Harris's body went limp, and Homelander dropped him to the rooftop without a second glance.

Caldwell stared in horror, his mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. He took a step back, but there was nowhere to go. "Please," he begged, his voice a trembling whisper. "I have a family—"

Homelander's smile vanished, replaced by a look of cold contempt. "And what about my family?" he snarled. "What about the son you kept from me?"

Caldwell was shaking now, tears streaming down his face as he realized there would be no mercy here, no escape. "It wasn't my choice," he sobbed. "I swear, I just did what I was told. They… they wanted to protect him, from you."

That word again. Protect. As if anyone needed protection from him. Homelander's rage flared, and with a sudden, violent motion, he grabbed Caldwell by the collar and yanked him close. "From me?" he repeated softly, his breath hot against Caldwell's face. "Do you have any idea who you're talking to?"

Caldwell whimpered, his body trembling like a leaf in the wind. "Please," he whispered. "I'm sorry."

Homelander chuckled, the sound low and menacing. "Sorry?" he mocked. "Oh, I don't think you're sorry enough."

Without another word, Homelander's eyes flared red-hot, and twin beams of searing laser vision shot out, carving into Caldwell's shoulders and slicing downward through his torso. The man screamed, a horrifying, guttural sound that echoed across the rooftop as his body was cleaved nearly in two, the smell of burning flesh filling the air. Blood sprayed in all directions, painting the rooftop in a gruesome tableau of red and black.

Homelander didn't flinch as Caldwell's mangled body crumpled to the ground, his expression devoid of pity or remorse. He turned away from the remains, his mind already racing with thoughts of what to do next. He needed more information, and these two idiots were clearly not enough. He needed to find the people truly responsible for this betrayal, the ones who dared to think they could manipulate him like a puppet.