Chapter Thirteen

Author's Note:

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The morning light filtered through the small windows of the safe house, casting long shadows across the empty hallways. Darren sat up on the edge of his bed, his muscles still aching from the confrontation with Homelander. Every part of him screamed for rest, but the memories of Valerie's lifeless body kept him on edge. He had been beaten—no, killed—by Homelander. Twice now. And if he didn't get stronger, it would happen again.

As he stood, Darren took in his surroundings. The safe house was far more elaborate than he initially realized. Each room had been meticulously prepared, stocked with supplies for survival and training. A part of him couldn't help but feel impressed. Eric had clearly planned for every contingency, which was a good thing because Darren couldn't afford to make any more mistakes. He moved through the halls, finding a kitchen, a living space, and even a small armory filled with basic weaponry and gear.

But it was the underground training facility that really caught his attention. After finding a metal door and keying in a code Eric had given him, Darren stepped inside a vast chamber. The ceiling stretched high above, reinforced with steel and concrete, and the walls were lined with equipment. In the center was an open area that resembled an arena, with large targets and obstacles scattered around.

*This is it*, he thought. This is where he would become stronger.

As he gazed around, his thoughts drifted back to the last time he had trained—really trained—back when he first received Thor's powers. He had barely scratched the surface, too eager to rush into battle. He had wasted the potential inside him because of his arrogance, and it had cost him Valerie. That wasn't going to happen again.

Darren clenched his fists, feeling the dormant power within him start to stir. "Not again," he muttered to himself. "This time, I'll be ready."

The underground chamber was cold, but Darren's body was buzzing with energy as he stood in the center of the arena. He closed his eyes, feeling for the power that lay just beneath his skin—the power of Thor. His heart pounded as he focused, willing the electricity within him to come forward.

At first, there was nothing. Just silence. Then, a faint crackle.

Blue sparks danced along his fingertips, and with a grunt, he raised his hand. Lightning shot out from his palm, arcing through the air and striking one of the targets on the far wall. The sound was deafening, reverberating through the chamber as the target exploded into pieces.

Darren stood, breathing heavily. His hand tingled from the discharge of energy, but a small smile tugged at his lips. *That was a start*.

He spent the next few hours pushing himself. Summoning lightning, channeling it, directing it at targets. Each time, the bolts grew stronger, and his control became more precise. But the more he used his powers, the more he realized how little he truly understood them. Thor's abilities were vast, far more than just the ability to shoot lightning from his hands. There was strength, reflexes, and the connection to storms—all of which needed honing.

After what felt like hours, Darren collapsed onto the floor, his chest heaving. His muscles burned with exhaustion, and his hands felt raw from the repeated use of his powers. He had barely scratched the surface, yet it was already more than he had ever pushed himself before.

Wiping sweat from his brow, he stared up at the ceiling. "I have so much more to learn," he whispered to himself. The thought both excited and terrified him. If he was going to face Homelander again, he needed to control *everything*.

A week had passed since Darren began his training, and each day brought a new challenge. He had learned to summon and control lightning with greater precision, and his reflexes were improving. But it wasn't enough. There was something missing.

One night, after a particularly grueling session, Darren stood in the middle of the chamber, staring at his hands. He was alone—completely alone—and the weight of that reality pressed on him. Homelander had Valerie's blood on his hands, and Darren hadn't been strong enough to stop him.

His thoughts turned to Thor's legendary weapon—Mjolnir. The hammer that gave Thor command over his power. Without it, Darren felt incomplete, like a piece of the puzzle was missing. If he could somehow summon a weapon, maybe he could finally be on equal footing with Homelander.

He closed his eyes and reached deep inside, trying to pull on the energy that had lain dormant for so long. He concentrated, picturing the hammer in his hands, willing it to materialize. Thunder rumbled overhead, and the room darkened as storm clouds swirled above him. The energy surged through his body, electric and wild.

But something was wrong. The power began to spiral out of control.

Without warning, a massive thunderclap erupted from Darren's body, sending shockwaves through the chamber. The walls trembled, cracks splintering across the concrete. Lights flickered as the storm raged, and Darren found himself caught in the middle of it.

"Stop!" he shouted, but the storm ignored him. Lightning shot from his hands uncontrollably, lashing out at the walls and ceiling.

Darren fell to his knees, struggling to regain control. The storm continued to build, the power inside him spiraling wildly. His heart raced as panic set in. *This can't be happening*.

Finally, with a guttural roar, Darren slammed his fists into the ground. The storm dissipated in an instant, leaving the room in silence. Smoke rose from the cracks in the floor, and Darren collapsed, his body trembling from the effort.

He lay there for a long time, staring at the ruined chamber around him. He wasn't ready—not yet. He still had so much to learn, and the more he trained, the more he realized just how dangerous his powers could be without control.

The following day, Darren found himself sitting in the control room, nursing his sore muscles. He had pushed himself harder than ever before, and while he had made progress, the incident with the thunderclap had shaken him.

As he sat, lost in thought, one of the monitors blinked to life. Darren looked up, surprised to see Eric's face appear on the screen.

"I see you're still alive," Eric said, his tone dry but with a hint of amusement.

Darren snorted. "Barely."

Eric leaned back in his chair. "I've been keeping an eye on you. I figured you'd start trying to push yourself too hard sooner or later."

Darren crossed his arms, feeling defensive. "I don't have time to go slow. Homelander's out there, and I'm not ready. I need to be stronger."

"You're not going to get stronger by killing yourself in the process," Eric replied. "Trust me, I get it. You want to take him down. But you need to master what you have first, or you'll just end up back to where you were."

Darren's jaw clenched. He didn't like being told to slow down, but deep down, he knew Eric was right. The power he had was dangerous if left unchecked, and one wrong move could destroy everything.

Eric sighed. "Look, my grandfather was a vigilante. He trained for years to control his powers, and even he knew when to pull back. You've got the potential, Darren, but you're still too reckless. Focus on mastering the basics before you try summoning any legendary hammers."

Darren blinked, surprised that Eric knew about his failed attempt.

"I told you, I've been watching," Eric said with a smirk. "Now get back to work, and stop trying to blow up my safe house. We've still got a long way to go."

The screen went dark, leaving Darren alone once more. He leaned back in his chair, the weight of Eric's words sinking in. He was right. Darren had been trying to run before he could walk, and it nearly cost him everything.

Taking a deep breath, Darren stood. There was still much to do, but for the first time, he felt a little more grounded. He had to be patient—master his powers, piece by piece. Only then could he face Homelander and win.

And when that day came, he would be ready.

Another week had passed since Darren's conversation with Eric, and something had shifted within him. He had stopped pushing himself to the brink of exhaustion, instead focusing on the fundamentals of his powers. Each day he refined his control over Thor's abilities, harnessing his strength and lightning with precision rather than brute force.

The underground chamber echoed with the sound of Darren's strikes as he moved through a series of training drills. His fists smashed into the metal dummies Eric had provided, leaving dents in the reinforced steel. His punches were faster now, sharper, and his movements flowed with a confidence he hadn't possessed before.

"Focus," he whispered to himself, his voice steady. He had learned that control was the key to unlocking his full potential, and rushing into power without understanding it had been his greatest mistake.

With a deep breath, Darren raised his hand. Lightning crackled along his fingertips, blue sparks dancing up his arm. But this time, there was no wild surge of energy, no uncontrollable storm. He held the power firmly, shaping it to his will.

In one swift motion, he shot the lightning at a series of targets. Each bolt hit its mark, obliterating the practice dummies in rapid succession. The room was filled with the smell of ozone as the electricity dissipated, leaving behind smoldering remnants of his targets.

Darren exhaled slowly, his heart steady. He could feel the power thrumming beneath his skin, not in the chaotic way it once had, but in a calm, controlled manner. He wasn't just tapping into Thor's strength now—he was becoming part of it.

"Much better," he said to himself, allowing a small smile to form. His body was growing stronger, and more importantly, his mind was sharper. This wasn't just about brute force. It was about mastery.

The room fell silent again, save for the soft hum of the ventilation system. Darren stood in the center of the arena, his gaze focused, his mind clear. He knew there was still a long road ahead of him, but for the first time since his resurrection, he felt like he was moving in the right direction.

It had been nearly three weeks since Darren first arrived at the safe house. The days blurred together in a routine of training, resting, and pushing his limits. Eric had kept in sporadic contact, offering advice and sending supplies, but otherwise leaving Darren to his own devices. It was clear that Eric trusted him to figure things out on his own, and Darren appreciated the space.

One morning, as Darren was finishing another round of drills, he felt a strange sensation in the air. It was faint at first, barely noticeable, but as the minutes passed, it grew stronger. The air around him seemed to thrum with energy, and his body responded in kind.

Darren paused, his brow furrowing. He had felt this before—a connection to something larger than himself. A storm.

He hurried up the stairs and emerged onto the roof of the safe house. Dark clouds were gathering on the horizon, swirling in an ominous formation. Lightning flickered in the distance, and the wind began to pick up.

Darren stood there, staring at the approaching storm. He could feel the energy in the air, like a living thing calling to him. This was different from the other times he had summoned lightning. This storm wasn't of his making—it was something natural, something primal.

Without thinking, Darren extended his hand. Lightning crackled along his arm, but this time, instead of firing it at a target, he let the storm come to him. The electricity from the clouds connected with his own, and for a brief moment, he felt as though he was part of the storm itself.

The power surged through him, filling him with energy. His body felt weightless, and his senses heightened. He could hear the distant rumble of thunder, the crackling of lightning, and the soft hum of the wind as it whipped around him. It was a feeling of unity, of balance.

For the first time since gaining Thor's powers, Darren didn't feel like he was simply borrowing them. He felt like they were his.

The storm continued to rage overhead, but Darren remained calm, his eyes closed as he let the energy flow through him. He didn't need to fight it or control it—it was a part of him now.

The storm lasted for hours, but Darren didn't move from his spot on the roof. He stood there, letting the lightning dance around him, feeling the raw power of nature in its purest form. It wasn't until the clouds finally began to clear that he lowered his hand and opened his eyes.

The connection he had felt during the storm lingered in his veins, like a low hum beneath the surface. He had tapped into something deeper than just Thor's abilities—he had tapped into the essence of the storm itself. It was a power that didn't just come from within him, but from the world around him.

Darren made his way back inside the safe house, his mind racing with new possibilities. If he could connect with natural storms like that, it meant he had access to an almost limitless source of power. He wasn't just using Thor's strength—he was becoming part of the storm.

As he descended into the underground chamber once more, Darren's thoughts drifted to Homelander. The last time they fought, Homelander had overpowered him easily. But that was before Darren understood the full scope of his abilities. If they were to face each other again, things would be different.

Darren stopped in the middle of the arena, closing his eyes as he reached for the power inside him. It came easily now, the crackling energy responding to his call without hesitation. His body thrummed with strength, and for the first time, he felt like he truly had a chance.

He wasn't just a man wielding a god's power anymore. He was something more.

The following week passed in a blur of training and experimentation. Darren's connection to his powers deepened with each passing day, and he pushed himself to new limits. He practiced controlling the storm within him, summoning lightning at will and using it in increasingly creative ways.

But no matter how much progress he made, the thought of Homelander lingered in the back of his mind. He knew that his training wouldn't last forever—eventually, he would have to face the world again, and when that happened, he needed to be ready.

It was during one of his training sessions that the sound of a phone ringing broke his concentration. Darren paused, wiping the sweat from his brow as he glanced over at the control room. The monitor was blinking, and Eric's face appeared on the screen once more.

"Long time, no talk," Eric said with a smirk.

Darren approached the screen, leaning against the wall. "I've been busy."

"So I've heard," Eric replied. "I've been monitoring your progress, and I have to say, you've come a long way. But I think it's time for the next step."

Darren raised an eyebrow. "What do you mean?"

Eric leaned forward, his expression serious. "You've been training in isolation for weeks now, but that's not how real battles work. You need to test your powers in real-world situations. And I've got just the thing."

Darren's heart skipped a beat. "What are you talking about?"

"There's something going on in the city," Eric said, his voice lowering. "Something big. I don't know all the details yet, but I've heard rumors about a new group of Supes causing trouble. They're not on Homelander's level, but they're dangerous. And I think this is the perfect opportunity for you to see how far you've really come."

Darren felt a surge of adrenaline at Eric's words. This was it—the chance he had been waiting for. A real test of his abilities.

"I'll send you the details," Eric continued. "But remember, this isn't just training anymore. You're stepping into the real world again. Be careful."

Darren nodded, his jaw set. "I will. And Eric... thanks."

Eric gave him a nod in return. "Don't thank me yet. Just make sure you come back alive."

The screen went dark, leaving Darren standing in the control room, his heart racing. The weeks of training had been grueling, but now it was time to put everything he had learned to the test.

He clenched his fists, feeling the electricity hum beneath his skin. This was it. The next step in his journey. And this time, he was ready.