Homelander was woken up in the morning by a loud bang. He sat up in a flash, getting to his feet within seconds as his door was broken in. The wooden paneled door landed on the floor with a loud noise, separating Trisha's broken and lifeless body from the carpeted floor below. Homelander was caught off guard as he looked down at the body and then up, by which time the intruder was already within a few feet of him. A left hook landed squarely on his jaw, making him take a step back. The punches kept coming, one after the other in quick succession as the repeated blows made him sit down on his bed. A sharp kick across his chest, however, failed to get him on his back as he finally got over the shock of the initial attack and was able to parry the blow. His assailant was knocked off their feet and fell down on the floor.
"What the fuck is wrong with you?" Homelander asked, as he stood up.
Queen Maeve slowly got back up on her feet, staring daggers at him. She brushed off her disheveled hair as she took a step forward to Homelander.
"You monster. You killed her," she seethed through her teeth. She knew that, after the initial flurry of offense, she did not stand much of a chance against Homelander once he got his wits about him and was able to defend himself. She stood there within an inch of him, her fists balled, her eyes ablaze and her body tense with anger and pain.
"I'm afraid you're going to have to be a bit more specific than that. Do you have any idea how little that narrows it down?" Homelander smirked at her, lightly rubbing his jaw.
"Don't act like you don't know, you bastard, you hateful son of a bitch. You knew I loved her," Maeve said, the anger in her eyes giving way to a cloud of tears. She was not afraid of showing Homelander her tears and did not break eye contact.
Homelander smirked but said nothing. Maeve followed him with her eyes all the way, turning around after he crossed behind her. He sidestepped Maeve and looked down at Trisha's body sprawled on the broken door. He made a disapproving sound in his mouth as he shook his head.
"You've made quite the mess here, Maeve," he said in a disappointed tone, "Was such a messy situation really necessary?"
"Don't you dare ignore me. You killed her; I want you to admit it. I want you to tell me to my face that you killed the woman I loved," Maeve said as she firmly grabbed Homelander's wrist, prompting him to meet her eyes.
"Careful, Maeve. Just because I've not already punished you for attacking me doesn't mean I'll continue to refrain myself," Homelander said with a reddish glow in his eyes and a steely voice.
"Do you think I'd really be here, in this way, if I cared what you did to me? I don't care if you cut me in half, if I get to hear from you that you killed Elena," Maeve said with a shaky voice. The mention of Elena's name was the last straw that broke the dam of her tears. She let go of Homelander's hand as her palms rushed to her face in an effort to contain her profuse sobs.
"It hurts, doesn't it, Maeve?" Homelander leaned very close to her ear and whispered, "It must hurt, knowing that the woman you love, someone you just saw, is gone. Snatched from your life without you and your superpowers being able to do a goddamn thing about it. I bet you couldn't sleep all night, could you? Memories of her and the times you spent together must not have let you sleep. Did they, Maeve?" he continued menacingly.
"Why? What did she ever do to you?" Maeve asked between her fingers.
"Oh, nothing personally. I didn't go after Elena—"
Homelander's sentence was interrupted by a powerful right hook from Maeve that caught him squarely on the jaw. He was startled for a moment and took a step back, as Maeve glared at him.
"Keep her name out of your mouth, you fucking monster," she snarled.
"This, Maeve. This is exactly why I did what I did. I wanted you to feel the way I felt, the way you made me feel when you took my love from me. You ganged up on her, so many of you and then you stood in the way of me and my son. You destroyed my family, Maeve, and you have no idea what that felt like. Now you will know, you will feel that every day," Homelander's voice rose, booming like thunderclaps in the sky.
"And also, Maeve, I'm not the only one who killed her. You did, too. If you had not gone to her house the day before, I would never have known where she was. You handed her to me on a silver platter," Homelander's booming voice changed came down to a normal level, as he stared right into her eyes. Maeve could not find the words to respond, as an ashen look fell over her face.
"I'm not going to kill you today, Maeve. Not yet. You're going to die every day knowing that the woman you loved is dead because of you, and you couldn't do a damn thing about it." Homelander let his last words hang in the air for a moment, after which he walked over to the balcony and flew up into the morning sky. Maeve collapsed on the floor, putting her head between her knees, as the tears came out in full force.
Butcher adjusted the collars of his shirt and knocked loudly on the door in front of him. A call of "who is it?" from inside did not prompt a response from the stoic Englishman. A sound of closing footsteps was followed by the door being unlocked and opened.
"Hello, Hughie," Butcher smirked.
It took Hughie only a moment to get over the initial shock of seeing Butcher. He sighed and turned out wordlessly. Butcher followed Hughie into the small apartment, looking around.
"I see you've done quite well for yourself, haven't you?" Butcher asked in an impressed tone.
"The answer is no, Butcher. I know why you're here and the answer is no," Hughie said with a deadpan face as he sat down on the indigo accent chair in the middle of his living room.
Butcher's surprised look made him smile, despite himself. He knew Butcher would eventually come to visit him with the intention of recruiting him for a crusade against Homelander, and for the first time he was able to surprise Butcher. Somewhere inside him, that felt good.
"I know about Judy. Homelander delivered her head to Annie, and she came to me with it. Who do you think told Mallory?" he continued, in an attempt to ease the furrow in Butcher's brows.
But the frows remained, despite his explanation. Butcher's jaw hardened as his frown deepened, and he angrily said, "And after all that, you're gonna say no? You're not going to join in the effort to drag down that cunt?"
"Yes, because there's more than one way of making sure Homelander answers for his crimes. I've tried your way for a long time and where did that get us with him? He's still out there, killing whoever he wants. Your way sucks, Butcher," Hughie shouted. He could not tell where all this anger and aggression was coming from, maybe it was all pent up within him for such a long time and finally seeing Butcher was letting it all out.
"Oh yeah, so what's your plan? Writing angry emails with Neuman and Congress and all of that bureaucratic bullshit? Well guess what, we tried that too. We got that bastard in a hearing and what happened? Fuckall," Butcher responded to Hughie's aggressive tone with a raised voice of his own.
"Yeah well guess what? I'm not going to give up. I decided that I'm going to do this the right way and the right way is to stand with Congresswoman Neuman, not you. We're doing well, especially now with Homelander's video of condemning a plane full of Americans to death. She believes in justice, not through violence and killing people," Hughie was not going to back down to Butcher's intimidation.
"Really, Hughie? After all that we've been through, you're going to give me this bullshit? You signed up with me when Robin was killed because you wanted to kill A-Train, and now you're suddenly interested in the 'right way'?"
As soon as he said it, Butcher could see that he had made a mistake. Hughie's face turned red at the mention of Robin's name, as the otherwise calm young man charged at Butcher and gave him a mighty push. Butcher was caught off guard, not expecting this from Hughie, and could not maintain his balance. He landed on the ground with a loud thud.
"How dare you bring up Robin?" Hughie screamed into Butcher's face, down on one knee and clutching his collar, "You used me. You used me to get at Homelander and Vought because you needed a way into get into Vought Tower at the time. You used me and treated me like shit every single fucking day and I just had to suck it up because I was in so deep into all your shit. But no more, Butcher. You and I are done. You hear me?" he continued with his angry barrage.
Butcher silently absorbed all of Hughie's backlash, silently staring into his eyes. Once the outburst was done, he slightly smirked and said, "So, what was all that about not wanting to be violent, eh?"
Hughie let go of Butcher's collar and got back to his feet. Standing over the Englishman, he silently said, "Get out of my house, Butcher."
Butcher got up and dusted off his clothes. He looked at Hughie for a second, and then curtly nodded, as he walked out of the door. Having yet another door closed to him, Butcher knew that he was running out of options of people to count on in his fight against Homelander. He got into his car outside the apartment building and looked up at Hughie's window. He saw his former friend standing there and then the blinds fell on his face.
Grace Mallory put down her glass of Cabernet and slowly walked up to the window. She could see the back yard fully lit in the soft moonshine, with the trees farther out in the estate grounds standing up like dark blotches obstructing the celestial light. However, while the scene definitely looked serene, it sounded anything but as bloodcurdling screams of what she could only assume were her security detail pierced the night sky. She pursed her lips as their corners curled up into a wry smile. With hands clasped behind her back, she stood very still, waiting for her fate to come to her.
"I've always wondered, why are bodyguards always men with buzz cuts and black suits? There really ought to be more diversity with them," a voice said behind her, as the sound of footsteps on her wooden floor closed in on Mallory.
"I'm not sure you're the authority on diversity here. Didn't you date a Nazi?" Mallory asked without turning around. The sound of footsteps stopped, as Homelander sighed and grit his teeth. The allusion to Stormfront still affected him very deeply and it was very hard for him to not lash out into a blinding rage. But he realized what Mallory was doing, and smirked.
"You almost got me there, too," he said with a smile as he walked close to her.
Mallory turned around and smiled. "At my age and with my life's experiences, a quick death would be a blessing," she said as she picked up her wine glass again.
"Oh no, no. Not for you. You don't get to go away that easily," Homelander's smile was laced with menace.
"I suppose not. I imagine I've caused you quite some trouble, haven't I?" Mallory swirled the wine in her glass as she looked right into Homelander's eyes. A steely look of resolve in the former Deputy CIA Director's eyes almost evoked a sense of respect in Homelander, but the hatred he had for her quickly quashed any such notions of respect.
"But then again, you clearly don't need help causing trouble for yourself. First the video of you on that plane comes out, and now you torch my security team in a way that screams your name to any investigation. You're creating quite the stir, I see." Mallory held Homelander's gaze for a moment, after which she walked towards the mantlepiece. She picked up her phone from there and began to type into it.
"Surely, you're not calling for help, are you?" Homelander asked out of amusement. "If you didn't get the hint from the screams of your guards, I can handle myself pretty well. I didn't need to take them out, I just wanted to."
"Oh I know. I'm not calling for help. I'm just letting my people know to disappear with Ryan. No doubt, you'll -,"
Mallory was talking without looking up from her phone, but her words were interrupted by a piercing flash of laser light as it ripped through her torso. Her body exploded in a mushy mess of singed flesh and blood as her phone clattered to the ground. Immediately after he fired, Homelander regretted losing control. He knew that he had fallen for Mallory's trick, losing his cool and killing her before he could get Ryan's whereabouts from her. He sighed and walked over to where Mallory's phone lay on the ground. The screen was still lit up as he picked it up, and a closer look revealed the Google home screen.
"You wily old fox," Homelander said with a smirk.