Kore
ACT IV
"And she [Demeter] was visited by grief [akhos] that was even more terrifying than before: it makes you think of the Hound of Hādēs.
In her anger at the one who is known for his dark clouds, the son of Kronos, she shunned the company of gods and lofty Olympus.
She went away, visiting the cities of humans, with all their fertile landholdings, shading over her appearance, for a long time. And not one of men, looking at her, could recognize her."
-Homeric Hymn to Demeter [Verses 90-95]
"What the hell do you mean… it's over?" John heard A-Train say. Disbelief clouded his words as they sat in the very lonely halls of the Seven's once-prominent tower. Moderately fewer employees remained to keep their meeting room and quarters maintained as the dust started to settle on some of the unpowered screens and memorabilia of their once-great team.
Even the seat that John was using seemed a lot more uncomfortable than before.
The tower felt empty compared to what it once was.
Everything felt hollow as if the once profane and powerful history of each name and memory etched into the building's walls was no longer in play. The spirit of what was once Vought or the value of the name of the great Seven was now like the many busts and memorials within the Building…
"You… of all fucking people shouldn't be saying that," A-Train exclaimed.
…wrought with dust.
John rubbed his gloved finger over the table, small excesses of particulates starting to accumulate on his thumb as he gazed at them with his enhanced vision. Even the smell of the room was less maintained than before. The cleaning agents and the like, amidst the artificial scents to make the room fresh, were completely absent.
Half of the many footsteps that once walked this place were all that remained as he returned his glance to A-Train. The table of the Seven itself was nearly empty, half of their numbers or less so with just The Deep, him, and the idiot speedster being present.
How the mighty have fallen.
"But I am and the faster you accept that, the better." He replied with barely any interest in his voice as he continued to think about his own losses. One of them being the most important.
A-Train didn't seem pleased with his answer. The boldness of his current tirade being the result of his frustration and complete utter anger at the situation they all found themselves in.
That of being literally obsolete, in most eyes of the world.
"You know what? Fuck you. Fuck you and that black, Greek bitch. Ever since you've been fucking jacking off to her you've been different, worse a fucking pussy." He angrily said with his voice as high as it was as the tension in the room tightened.
John's own handling of his own emotions slipped somewhat as he glanced at A-Train.
The man paled a bit at his stare as he backed down in his seat. Despite his obvious anger, they were both still scared of him. The insult to practically the only person that John considered a role model and a love interest nearly made him blow up again, but he restrained his anger somewhat.
All because he was still mourning.
Mourning for a loss whose scars were still fresh.
"I don't care at all of how angry you are A-Train… or of all the stupid accusations you've thrown at me, but understand… if that head of yours can understand anything at all, is that what we have right is now a situation that none of us had any way to prepare for."
"But we still have a chance… those Olympia bastards will get ruined if we-
"…do what? Bribe them? Expose them… what's there to expose? Of how violent their heroes are? Of how odd some of their people are? What is there to frame them with? When nearly every action they've done thus far has not only won them the trust of the public but also of the many governments and businesses in the world. They're not like us, A-Train. They're an anomaly in this business, that being they're all well-mannered people doing heroics. The kind that we in the Seven, are not."
The two stared at him as A-Train looked at him in shock at his words.
"We have allies! We have friends… even those in high places. Vought has connections, I have connections we just have to play it smart and do everything in our power to-
"…and I ask you again, do what? Every venture has failed. Every plan, contingency, and connection we have, illegal or otherwise is down in the gutter. We act in a way that is more publicized, your heads will roll, not mine."
"What?" Deep suddenly asked in fear.
John sighed at the idiocy of these two as he continued. "…every damn act of rebellion, espionage, and the like that you two have pushed these last few months and weeks to get Olympia to capitulate or grow weaker has done nothing but strengthen them. Their followers, these 'Polis' have grown stronger than even our own individual fanbases. Olympia condemns their actions, brilliantly setting each obstacle we place on their path into successes and those successes have pushed them to a point where I myself… consider them unstoppable."
A-Train dropped down on his seat, bewildered and in shock as realization kicked in.
"Because of your… antics, you've placed them on a pedestal. Unmovable, impregnable, completely out of our reach to even maneuver or touch them." He then focused his gaze on A-Train, his heartbeat rising with each word from his mouth before he spoke to seal the deal. "…do you two understand now why I don't give a shit anymore, or do I need to spell it out to you in a way that you both can fully understand?"
Nobody dared to take that challenge as John sighed once more. Honestly, he was tired.
Tired because all the actions of Vought behind closed doors and the associations these idiots in the Seven had garnered were all unsanctioned and were done behind his back. He had more trust for them before unlike now because they weren't idiots so far up their greed and desires that they literally found the closest means to jump themselves down to the grave.
Decades of effort and triumph were gone… because it seemed like nobody was patient.
"B-But… my brother man, is there nothing we can do, really?" A-Train said as he was now neck-deep in depression. His hands curled atop his head as his mental faculties were screaming at him to release some of his emotions, only to keep them at bay knowing that he was still there and that ultimately, John had a point.
"After Stan Edgar publicly announced his retirement after Gehenna, I can imagine that's where our troubles started, and it's been downhill ever since then. All because nobody seemed to read the signs."
"It didn't seem that way at first…" Deep blurted out.
"It didn't, truly… but we were facing an adversary that was better on all fronts compared to us, and the only comparable asset we had to even those odds, was me."
"W-What?" A-Train said, his eyebrows curling into a frown.
"Let's face it, gentlemen. What have you and the rest and Seven done to even make up anything Olympia's done in the past year? Or better yet, what have you done to catch up to even a tenth of what I do as both a hero and a public figure recently?"
The two were about to say something, but their tongues were tied as they saw his point.
"Exactly."
Standing up, John then began walking towards the windows that overlooked the city their tower stood in. There were differences in his posture and actions, however, for he did not have his hands behind his back, and he moved at a pace that felt, sluggish…
As if he too was embroiled in emotional turmoil himself.
His cape trailed behind him as he watched the sun dip closer to the horizon in the afternoon.
"Let's face the facts… we're all in a sinking ship and only one of us will remain afloat."
Not a minute before that he heard A-Train's chair being violently pushed aside as the man himself was holding back both his tears and anger to the definitive end of their impromptu meeting.
"Fuck you… fuck all of you. I'm going to do my own damn thing from now on. Screw Vought… Screw Olympia." he said as John heard him stomp away, not even bothering to act upon the insult he threw in his direction. He left the room as far as his enhanced ears could perceive him, leaving him and Deep alone in the silence that came after.
After roughly half a minute, it seemed like his only teammate that was left standing spoke.
"Boss…"
"Yes?"
John didn't dare to turn his head because he was ultimately done with speaking or even interacting with these morons. It was bad enough that the only reliable member Black Noir was still missing but Translucent had to as well, as many others on Vought's payroll. Maeve was just drifting with whatever she came across and many like Lamplighter either left the business entirely or wished to become pawns under Olympia.
He didn't blame them. If it wasn't for his obligations and connections themselves (which were also rapidly dissolving) he would have loved to be part of the team where Lancer was.
Looking at the horizon a small frown appeared on his face.
Perhaps it was time to make that decision.
"A-Train sort of has a point… you've changed, much as even I can tell." The Deep finally spoke out his thoughts as John turned his head to face his direction.
"And what way can you say that I am… changed?"
"You're a lot more dismissive to us. You're a lot nicer with civilians and…"
"And?" John asked, raising an eyebrow that made Deep flinch.
"A-and you've been very keen on doing the hero work."
John then found himself smiling at the Deep's words. "And?"
"…I… t-that's all, sir." He said, fear dripping in his voice as he meekly tried to look away. The poor bastard was now filled to the brim with allegations and legal issues. It was a miracle he was even allowed in the building in the first place and in some corner of John's mind, he pitied the man. He did not look good compared to the last time he saw him. The lack of sleep present on his face and what felt like most of his finances being drained to try and mitigate all of his legal issues had taken a large toll on him.
Luckily in John's case, his general reception was that of Olympia's kind. It would not be far off to say that many rumors from the public at large subtly wish he would jump ship.
"Have you ever had a son… Deep?"
"N-No… why?"
John chuckled at his confusion as a genuine giggle started to form on his face. "I kind of expected, especially of a man of your proclivities, that you'd have one or two."
An audible gulp was heard, for the poor man was unsure as to where this conversation was going. It amused John to no end.
"Simply put… I have a son."
He could see the Deep blink at his words and before he could react or say anything else, he continued speaking as the smile on his face had morphed into a sadder tune. It haunted the Deep seeing the Homelander being essentially 'honest' with him at that moment down to his very emotions.
"I never even knew about it until very recently… well, give or take three months or so. But he was everything I wanted him to be. A boy of good character and faith with aspirations of being better."
John then crossed his arms in a relaxing motion as he wistfully smiled at memories that only he could see in his mind's eye. It was awkward from the Deep's perspective as the smile only made his instincts gnaw and chip him away in pure fear.
"The best part was? He didn't even know I was his dad, he was just a young kid, innocent and happy just by seeing my presence. He was a fan of comics you see; you know those old ones? Before the Seven was ever popular. The ones Vought closed down and assimilated. The classics. The kid was a big fan of them, and he was so excited when I went down to visit him that he was ecstatic."
John then returned to sit back down on his seat as he continued to reminisce. His smile faded somewhat into uncertainty as he began subtly tapping his fingers on the glass table.
"I kept visiting nearly every day because it gave me… joy and happiness but I was quite unsure as to why I didn't have the nerve to tell him that I was his dad." He then chuckled bitterly before turning on his cellphone and seeing a picture of Lancer right next to a picture of his son as wallpaper. "You could chalk that up to nervousness, guilt, or probably any other word that a shrink could give you to justify repeat meetings, but… I just couldn't do it and I didn't know why."
Glancing up at the only person in the room, John licked his lips before continuing.
"It would have been easy you know? I was used to this. I've met nearly every kind of kid under the son with all my time as Homelander, but this one kid forced me to be unsure. To feel… guilty about something that I've never realized about myself. Or at least until Lancer gave me a reason to see the different parts of being a hero and it all eventually clicked…"
An uncomfortable frown appeared on his face as he glanced away in a genuine display of shame. "… my kid, asked me one night if I could tell him a story about how I saved people… how I made everyone's day by showing them the kindness, the joy of doing the right thing and I was about to answer it myself until I stopped, because at then I realized that I've never been that. I've never once in my time as Homelander ever tried to see what my son wanted to see in heroes."
To say that it was chilling hearing it from Homelander's own mouth in The Deep's perspective would be undermining how much fear had caused his body to react biologically. His sweat had already turned sticky with the smell of decomposing fish, and his gills were already spewing a pint of fluid that seemed to be the equivalent of the mucus membrane that marine vertebrates excrete alongside their piss and waste. Had Homelander not been focused on his monologue, he would have already screamed at his presence for how foul he was starting to act up.
John started to chuckle darkly with guilt as he stared at his hands.
"You know when people say, children bring about the best in us? I didn't think much about that quote and whoever the hell said such a thing, but it's actually true. It's real and I never realized now how important it was to me. To Homelander, of all people."
The Deep shifted in his seat as John focused his glance back at him.
"Now you know why I'm the way I am recently. I wasn't doing it for Vought. I wasn't doing it to woo a special woman in my heart… nor was I doing it with the best of intentions."
John leaned forward.
"I was doing it for my son…"
The two stared at each other for a bit and the silence only pushed Deep to shiver as it seemed like John was waiting for an answer.
"T-That's great." He blurted out, hoping it was enough, as John smiled back.
His smile held an untold amount of sinister tonality and unpredictability to it that he wished he never came to the Tower in the first place.
"I was willing to be better, Deep. No, I wanted to be better, just for my son to see me not as Homelander… not as a monster… but to be the man that he saw me to be. To be the man that he wanted me to be. Isn't that a good reason in itself as to why I did the things I did?"
"Y-Yeah…" the man quickly responded.
"Good… it's good that you understand. It's also good that you now see why I'm so done with you and what Vought stands for." He ominously said as Deep backed away by an inch.
"W-What?"
His eyes seemed to darken.
"Because of the impatience, the greed, and literally every other blunder that this company and you… idiots have done this past few months, I've lost my son. You all gambled too close to the sun, my friend. Each decision burned every last bit of trust in me and now I'm left with a company that's essentially headless that's also tearing itself apart… and idiot comrades that do everything to ruin the very thing I stand for."
John then placed a heavy hand on Deep's shoulder. The fear in the man was too obvious now to hide as he whimpered in his presence.
Then John suddenly laughed, patting the man's shoulder supportively as he backed away.
His breath became relaxed as the Homelander smiled at him.
"… be glad I don't blame any of you. You're all idiots who do nothing else but decide the most asinine of things, it's time… for change because I love my son. I love what Lancer and Olympia stand for… and I'm going to make sure that Vought adapts to the new era that we're facing."
He then started walking away as he patted Deep's shoulder supportively one more time before leaving the room completely.
All the while his senses could still hear the Fish Man sobbing in disbelief that he was still alive.
Placing the flowers on a freshly cleaned and maintained tombstone, John closed his eyes in silent prayer. Ultimately, he did not grieve nor say any such thing to the name of the person plastered on the stone nor did he care at all at their expense…
"Rebecca Butcher." He read as he opened his eyes.
…but she was still the mother of his son.
"I'll make sure our son finds a family that he belongs to. He's with her after all. She'll probably be the best mother in history. Better than both of us." He whispered as he stroked the smooth stone under his fingers.
The wind around him was a sign of good things to come as he looked to the horizon.
He just had one more thing to do….
"He'll be in good hands, I promise it, Becca."
…one more thing to do before everything changed, for the better.
He exploded into the air at speeds insurmountable to any modern jet as the rustling leaves and flowers around the grave left the cemetery in stasis.
All the while one man in a trench coat sighed as he looked at the disappearing figure with ridicule and devotion to vengeance that he was having qualms with.
"Come on Frenchie… we got work to do." He said.
"Who are you referring to Butcher? Me or the dame?" his male companion said as their sole female companion giggled at the joke.
"Clarissa? I'm home!" Madelyn Stillwell cried out as John heard him enter.
He once had an attraction with the woman. Whether it was because he fashioned her as a surrogate mother or that she was just attractive and dare he say it, alluring in general despite her age, he could no longer tell.
The single mother was one of the last few members of the Vought leadership after Stan Edgar left a large toll of leadership and various other factors shared amongst her compatriots began to weigh on them each. Madelyn was the most affected out of the bunch given her pull in some of the company's deeper connections.
John no longer cared however as he was there on pretense of business.
POP! POP! POP!
He rapidly closed the burning oven as smelly, black smoke rose into the air. Her kitchen was furnished quite well. All of the tools at his disposal allowed him to fashion a meal perfect for practically their final meeting, but it seemed like he had burnt the main course too far and the excess fat was popping inside before burning up into flames entirely.
"Oh… John. I uh, didn't expect you tonight." He heard her say as he turned around. He brandished his kindest smile in pure excitement as Madelyn smiled back. Only to smell and realize that he had something burning within her oven.
"W-What's the occasion? And uh… were you cooking something?"
She looked tame tonight. Her hair was tied up into a strange bun alongside her mostly covered blouse that barely showed anything compared to the very risqué ones she always wore when they frequently… interacted.
"Yeah… but you know me. I barely have the ability to cook myself some eggs."
"Oh, you should have told me… we could have ordered and everything." She said with a smile as she began walking towards the oven to which he raised his hand to make her stop.
"Don't worry I'll handle it. It's my mistake and I have to clean it up."
She giggled at his words as she playfully smacked him.
"Stop it, you absolute gentleman. We can have someone come later for that." She mused as she turned around and sat across from him at the nearby table. Smiling at him John heard her heart beating steadily faster, and not in an excited way.
"You… look good tonight. Busy?"
"Yeah, basically stressed all week long so I had to put the babysitter on extra pay so that she could keep Teddy safe at home. Speaking of that, have you seen Clarissa?"
John continued to enlarge his smile subtly. "I took care of it."
"Oh? So, is this… some plan to get us alone time? I can definitely… oblige. I'm already stressed as is… maybe this'll help us feel better." She teased as she stood up and sauntered towards him bit by bit. Welcoming her completely into his arms, John sniffed her scent.
It reeked of alcohol and that cheap, Vought-owned beauty product line.
It was leagues below Caenis' own scent. That of the ever-pressing stormy sea. Powerful, energetic, and exuded such pheromones that it attracted any male that gazed at her completely.
"You like?" Stillwell teased as she unbuttoned her blouse, letting him take a peek. She then started to sniff him as well as licking and kissing his neck and nape suggestively.
It was telling how inferior she was to John's beloved crush. He didn't even feel his pants constrict him as he stared at Stillwell doing her best to get him in the mood.
She continued to prod him suggestively as he whispered into her ear.
"Do you want to know what I learned today?"
"What?" she happily said with a slur of lust while snaking her arms down his pants.
"Flesh burns far too fast to pop," he said with a flat tone.
It made Madelyn Stillwell pause as she looked up at him, meeting his eyes.
"What?"
He then took a step back and leaned against the counter next to the oven, still belching with black smoke and that strange burnt scent.
POP! POP! POP!
"You know what they always say about Beached whales? How corpses, especially mammalian ones can induce bloat after death? It's a fascinating bout of science wherein after the body whose immune system and other necessary things shut down, it basically builds up a collection of gasses that makes it seem like they grow fatter…"
Madelyn looks at him in confusion as his smile grows.
"…and sometimes those trapped gasses caused the flesh to explode because there's nowhere else for those things to escape. Whales are often dangerous to go near against because of that very fact… for the possibility of exploding into a rain of gore is always there."
"Okay? What does this have to do with anything, John?" Stillwell asked as she placed a hand on her side. Ultimately curious but disturbed by this random fact he spewed out.
"I learned that sometimes in the right conditions, and in the right temperatures when those same dead corpses, those of humans as well… when exposed to a specific bout of high-temperature muscle, fat, and even bone pop! Because those gasses are still there."
POP! POP! POP!
The oven continued to belch with black smoke.
"Well… that firstly, is misinformation. High temperatures rapidly turn everything to dust, especially in humans. It's why cremation outside of a few scant things only menially pop…"
POP! POP! POP!
Madelyn suddenly paled.
She looked at John and tried to compose herself. "John, where's Clarissa?"
The Homelander continued to smile back.
"…. But I found out that in the right temperatures, in the right… setup. You can make a human corpse pop like popcorn at a theater snack bar. Temperatures… that someone like I can control through… well, my eyes."
The woman stepped back.
"What did you do to Clarissa?" she said, color drained from her face.
"It's Clarissa you're worried about? You… do know you can't fit someone as big as her in a very confined and tiny place."
POP! POP! POP!
Suddenly the smell caused Stillwell to take another step back as a tear rolled down her cheek. Disbelief, shock, fear, and other traumatic things dawned on her.
POP! POP! POP!
John smiled at him in a sinister fashion as he slowly opened the oven's door and let the smoke belch out.
POP! POP! POP!
The dreaded sound said as the woman lost all the feeling in her legs, she started to sob with her mouth opened in pure and utter shock. Her eyes continued to tear up as John stood over her.
She couldn't speak.
She couldn't react…
She couldn't even do anything.
Powerless and completely in pain John stared at her in the eyes.
"I wish you good night." He said as the oven started to go into flames. Scorching the kitchen slowly as the Homelander walked away, leaving a stunned Stillwell in the process.
Good riddance for her. She was the reason his son was taken away.
Flying upwards, far enough for anyone to see, he watched Stillwell's home go up in flames stoically and without emotion as he waited for anyone to come out.
Nobody did.
He flew to his destination.
His final step into the new world.
It felt magnificent…
Freeing.
He stopped with his flawless control of flight and landed slowly as his eyes bore witness to the woman of his dreams.
Laying there, enjoying her time sunbathing, was Caenis.
His beloved Caenis.
His beloved family.
They would all be together soon.
KORE TO BE CONCLUDED IN THE UPCOMING CHAPTER:
"PERSEPHONE, OH PERSEPHONE…"
AN: Oof… as much as I was focused in writing this piece and how disturbed I am as the rest of you… it's necessary for things to come and why HL was not that closely tied to the recent chapters.
Do know that any scene represented here does not reflect the author's POV, but that of Homelander's and to make it work I had to make sure that it was in-line with his character.
And quite frankly, at least to me, I scared myself for even putting some of the words on page (And I revised this part multiple times because I wanted to tone it down, but this was the extent to toning that down)
How the fuck does Garth Ennis do this? I'm very uncomfortable doing something close to what he normally writes day to day, but I had to add this to put one last nail on the coffin for whatever fate and justice Olympia shall throw on him soon…
And trust me, it's cathartic doing it soon because the end of the Vought and HL arc is near. Or at least the dissolution of this horrible character and what Vought stands for.