Chapter 33

Author's Note:

Hello Author-san here, Enjoy the descent into madness 😈 Ahahahahahahahahahahaha

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Homelander sits slumped in the crater, his once-pristine uniform reduced to tattered scraps, stained with dirt and blood. His face, streaked with dried tears, twitches as a broken laugh escapes him—a hollow, empty sound that echoes in the silence. "Hehe… Ahahahahaha." It's a laugh devoid of triumph, tinged with a madness born from disbelief and defeat. The world around him is still, a haunting contrast to the storm raging within.

With a sudden burst of frantic energy, he rockets into the sky, shattering the sound barrier. The world below becomes a blur as he speeds toward Vought Tower—the last vestige of a control that's slipping through his grasp like sand. The cool night air rips against his skin, but it does nothing to quell the fire of humiliation burning inside him.

He crashes through the wall of his room, sending shards of concrete and splintered wood flying in every direction. The impact shakes the tower, rattling the foundations of the symbol of his power. Stumbling, he collapses onto the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling. The once-opulent room is now a shattered mess, its luxury a bitter mockery of his current state. The weight of his defeat presses down on him, mingling with the acrid scent of smoke and plaster, creating an air thick with despair.

The door slams open, and Madeline Stillwell rushes in, her face pale and slick with sweat. "John! My baby boy!" Her voice quivers, a mix of fear and concern as she takes in his state. His uniform hangs in rags, his skin bruised and filthy, but it's his eyes that truly terrify her—vacant, hollow, drained of the cruel confidence that usually radiates from him.

She drops to her knees beside him, her breath quick and shallow as she lifts his head onto her lap. Her fingers tremble as they brush through his hair, the gesture maternal and soothing, but underlined by her growing dread. "Who did this to you?" she whispers, her voice breaking. There's a desperation in her eyes, a fear she's never felt before—something is slipping out of her control, and she can sense it.

But Homelander doesn't respond. His gaze remains fixed on the ceiling, unseeing. Each breath he takes is shallow, trembling, as if even the act of breathing has become a burden. His mind is a swirling storm of humiliation and self-loathing. Gone is the fury that usually burns within him; in its place is an empty void, gnawing away at his sanity. The silence between them is thick and suffocating, and the more Madeline tries to comfort him, the more she realizes the man she knew is slipping away.

Madeline's heart pounds as she stares at him. For the first time, she confronts a chilling possibility: she might be losing her grip on the one man she thought she could control. The crack in his facade isn't just physical; it's a deep psychological wound, one that her usual tactics can't simply patch over. She searches his face, trying to find a trace of the man who worshipped her, but there's nothing—only emptiness.

Inside Homelander's mind, the echoes of Voidreaver's taunts rip through him like shards of glass, twisting deeper with every replay. The foundation of his invincibility, once his unshakable core, now feels like a fragile, hollow shell. He feels like a fraud, his carefully constructed identity crumbling under the weight of his failure. Even Vought Tower—his symbol of power and dominance—feels like a cage, trapping him in a nightmare of inadequacy.

The oppressive atmosphere of the room presses down on him. Madeline's presence, once a source of comfort, now grates on his nerves. He can't stand her pity, can't stand the weakness it reflects back at him—but he's too drained, too broken to lash out. All he can do is lie there, drowning in his own self-loathing, every breath a reminder of how far he's fallen.

Madeline's voice cuts through the silence again, but her words are distant, blurred, lost in the storm of his thoughts. The only thing he can clearly hear is Voidreaver's voice, ringing endlessly in his mind:

"You're nothing but a fraud."

The words dig into him, tearing at his soul with a cruel precision. He clenches his fists, but even that small act feels like a monumental effort. The gnawing realization sinks in: for the first time in his life, he truly believes those words. He isn't enough.

In this moment, the mighty Homelander is nothing more than a broken man, drowning in a sea of despair and self-doubt. The void where his arrogance once reigned is now filled with the bitter sting of inadequacy. Madeline's desperate attempts to reach him only underscore the terrifying truth: the man she once controlled is slipping away for good.

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'Power… I need more power. If I were stronger, he wouldn't have been able to do what he did. Hehe… Ahahahahaha… Yes, Stranger, I see you now. I'll tear you apart next time. I'll destroy you—I, Homelander, give you my word.' An inner voice, dark and venomous, hisses behind his vacant eyes, growing louder, more insistent, mocking his defeat while fueling his desperation.

His head jerks toward Madeline, his eyes blazing with an eerie, manic glow. "They have the enhanced Compound V, don't they? The one in Edgar's hidden stash?" His voice is sharp, edged with a desperation that cuts through the tension like a knife.

Madeline's breath catches, confusion and fear flickering across her face. "I don't understand, John. What are you talking about?"

Homelander's laughter erupts—wild, unhinged, and filled with madness. "Hehe… Ahahahahaha. Isn't it obvious? I need it! If I'm stronger, no one will stand in my way!" His eyes blaze with feverish intensity, the heat of his rage palpable in the icy room.

"Don't pretend you don't know. Get it for me. If I have to get it myself, it'll be messy. Chop chop, Maddy. The clock's ticking!"

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Terrified, Madeline stumbles out of the room, her heart thudding in her chest like a war drum. She rushes through the corridors, each step echoing her growing dread. She's never seen Homelander like this—unhinged, desperate, and dangerously close to breaking completely. She knows there's no time to waste; the consequences of delaying could be catastrophic.

She reaches Edgar's office, her hands shaking as she searches for the hidden compartment. Her fingers finally locate a concealed panel, revealing a secure safe. With trembling hands, she enters the code.

Inside lies a single ampule, glowing with a malevolent purple light. The energy radiating from it is cold and unnatural, sending a shiver down her spine. She's heard whispers of this enhanced Compound V—a formula designed to push even the strongest Supes beyond their limits, with unpredictable and potentially deadly consequences. But she knows she has no choice. Betraying Edgar is a risk, but facing Homelander's wrath is a death sentence. Clutching the ampule, she races back to him, every step feeling like a countdown to disaster.

When she returns, she hands him the ampule with trembling fingers. Homelander snatches it from her, his eyes wide with a manic, feverish anticipation. He grabs a syringe and draws the glowing liquid into it. Holding it up to eye level, he starts giggling—a sound that quickly spirals into a deranged, cackling laugh.

Madeline backs away, unable to bear what's coming next. She flees, her footsteps echoing through the empty corridors as Homelander's crazed laughter reverberates behind her. Alone, he plunges the syringe into a wound on his arm and presses down on the plunger.

For a moment, nothing happens. Then agony explodes within him. He doubles over, screaming as every nerve in his body ignites with searing pain. His hands claw at his hair, nearly tearing it from his scalp. His eyes blaze red before shifting to a deep, pulsating purple, radiating unstable energy. But through the torment, his screams turns into laughter—a deranged, triumphant laugh that echoes with manic glee.

A pulse of energy erupts from him, sending shockwaves through the room. Objects are hurled against the walls as a faint purple mist hangs in the air. The pain ebbs, and Homelander staggers to his feet, disoriented but exhilarated. He feels it—a new power, sharp and intoxicating, humming through his veins.

Breathing heavily, he spots a picture frame across the room. Without thinking, he stretches his hand toward it. The frame shudders, then flies across the room, slamming into his palm.

For a heartbeat, panic flashes in his eyes as he almost loses control. He tries again, concentrating, and this time he feels it—a tingling surge that answers his command. When he opens his eyes, the frame is back in his grasp.

A twisted grin spreads across his face. Whatever this new power is, he's only scratched the surface. The mocking voice in his head is gone, replaced by something darker, something driven by a singular purpose. This is just the beginning. The next time he faces Voidreaver, he won't just be stronger—he'll be something else entirely.

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(Elsewhere)

Back at the base, Voidreaver lands with a soft thud in the hangar. His sleek high-tech suit flows back into its cross-shaped necklace, which settles around his neck with a quiet click. The hangar is eerily silent, a stark contrast to the chaos Homelander has unleashed. The other members of the team stand apart, their expressions tense and unreadable. Charlotte avoids his gaze, her face a mask of uncertainty and fear. Tyrone, observing the scene, exchanges a look with Reggie, who raises an eyebrow in silent question.

Tyrone shakes his head subtly, mouthing, "Not now," and points a thumb toward Charlotte. Reggie nods, understanding the silent communication. He motions for Tyrone to follow, heading toward their quarters while Charlotte remains where she is, lost in her own thoughts.

Reggie steps into his quarters and peels off his gear, the weight of the battle settling heavily on him. The cold water of the shower cascades over him, the droplets stinging his skin like icy needles. His mind races with thoughts of what just transpired. 'Will you take the bait, John? Or will you remain the fool you are? I guess we'll see...'

The cool water does little to clear his mind. He contemplates the imminent confrontation, the unknowns that lie ahead, and what Homelander's next move might be. The enhanced Compound V is now in play, and the stakes have escalated. Voidreaver's focus sharpens as he mentally prepares for the next round, knowing that the balance of power has shifted.

As the water continues to flow, Reggie's thoughts become a storm of strategy and anticipation. He understands that the next encounter will be crucial—not just for his team but for the larger battle that looms on the horizon. He steps out of the shower, a determined glint in his eyes, and begins to prepare for what comes next.

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(Back with Homelander)

In the silent aftermath of his transformation, Homelander paces the ruins of his room, his mind a whirl of new possibilities. The power surging through him is intoxicating, a heady mix of exhilaration and uncertainty. The walls of the room, battered and scarred from his earlier explosion of energy, seem to pulse with the residual energy of his newfound strength.

He can still feel the sting of Voidreaver's taunts, but now, there's a new edge to his anger—a focused, driven rage that fuels his every move. His eyes, still glowing with an ominous purple hue, scan the room for any sign of weakness. The feeling of invincibility he once held so dearly is now both a comfort and a curse. He's changed, and he knows it.

As he reaches for the ampule's empty vial, discarded on the floor, a thought forms in his mind—one of cold, calculating vengeance. His laugh, though quieter now, still carries a trace of madness, an echo of his recent battle. He knows he must be meticulous in his planning, leveraging this new power to its fullest potential. Voidreaver, who has already proven to be a formidable adversary, will not be so easily defeated again.

Homelander's reflection in the shattered mirror catches his eye. The man staring back is both familiar and foreign—a symbol of strength now tinged with a darker edge. He's no longer just a hero; he's something else, something more dangerous. The realization sharpens his resolve. He will rebuild his image, reclaim his dominance, and ensure that next time no one—least of all Voidreaver—would stand in his way.

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