Chapter 6: "Shadows of the Colossus"

The sun hung low over the New York skyline, casting long shadows across the city. Its glow reflected off the mirrored windows of Vought Tower, creating a shimmering mirage of steel and glass. But beneath the glittering facade, something far more dangerous was brewing. The ripples of the clash between Superman and Homelander were spreading, and the world was beginning to realize that the Seven may no longer be the untouchable gods they once were.


Vought Tower – Penthouse Level

Homelander stood at the edge of the open balcony, his eyes locked on the horizon. The city stretched out before him, vast and endless, but his focus was distant, his mind swirling with fury and disbelief. He gripped the railing so hard it began to bend under his strength. That alien—Superman—had humiliated him in front of everyone. For the first time in his life, Homelander had faced someone who wasn't afraid, who wasn't weaker than him.

Someone who had bested him.

The sound of a door opening behind him barely registered, but the soft footsteps did. Without turning around, Homelander knew who it was.

"Maeve," he said coldly.

Queen Maeve walked out onto the balcony, her arms crossed, looking as tired as she felt. She had no time for Homelander's bruised ego today, but she couldn't ignore what had happened.

"You're going to make things worse," she said bluntly, walking up beside him. "You don't stand a chance against him."

Homelander's jaw clenched, his eyes burning red with barely contained rage. "Don't tell me what I can and can't do, Maeve. That's not your place."

"It's not about me," she shot back. "It's about you realizing that Superman isn't some PR stunt or a minor inconvenience you can intimidate. He's different, and if you keep pushing him, you're going to get yourself killed."

Homelander finally turned to look at her, his eyes blazing. "I don't need your advice. I've been running this city—this entire country—long before he showed up. Do you think I'm going to let him take that from me?"

"You don't have a choice," Maeve said quietly, holding his gaze with cold determination. "If you keep going down this path, there won't be anything left to run."

Homelander's nostrils flared, but before he could respond, a voice crackled through the intercom system installed on his wrist.

"Sir," Stan Edgar's voice came through, calm and measured as always, "we need you in the boardroom. Now."

Without another word, Homelander shot into the sky, leaving Maeve standing on the balcony, watching him disappear into the distance. She sighed deeply, running a hand through her hair. It was all unraveling faster than she had anticipated.


The Boys' Hideout

Meanwhile, in the dimly lit basement that served as The Boys' current hideout, Butcher, Hughie, and the others were gathered around a flickering TV screen, watching the latest news coverage on the Superman situation. A news anchor was breathlessly narrating the story of Superman's arrival, speculating wildly about his origins and what it could mean for the future of the world.

Butcher leaned back in his chair, a smug grin on his face, but there was a dangerous glint in his eyes. He took a sip of whiskey, swirling the glass in his hand.

"Well, ain't this a right mess, eh?" he said, looking around at his crew.

Frenchie, seated nearby, nodded thoughtfully, his legs propped up on the table. "Superman... he is something else, yes? Not like the other Supes. More... how do you say... noble."

Mother's Milk grunted, folding his arms across his broad chest. "Noble or not, he's still dangerous. If he and Homelander go to war, we're all screwed."

Hughie, who had been sitting in quiet contemplation, spoke up. "What if... what if we can convince him to help us? Superman, I mean. He clearly hates Vought, and he seems like he's actually trying to do good."

Butcher laughed, but it wasn't the kind of laugh that carried any warmth. It was cold, cynical. "Superman might not be the same as Homelander, but make no mistake, mate—he's still a Supe. And all Supes, no matter how shiny they look on the outside, are rotten on the inside. Give it time, and you'll see it for yourself."

Hughie frowned. "I don't know, Butcher. Superman's... different. Maybe we can use that."

Butcher's smile faded, and he leaned forward, his voice dropping low and dangerous. "Don't get it twisted, Hughie. The second you start trustin' a Supe, that's when they turn on you. Superman might be all righteous now, but eventually, he'll show his true colors."

Before the argument could escalate further, a soft knock came from the door. Everyone tensed, hands moving instinctively toward their weapons. Butcher motioned for them to stay quiet as he crept toward the door, opening it just a crack to peer through.

On the other side was Starlight, looking more tired than usual. She wasn't in her costume; instead, she wore a simple jacket and jeans, her face pale in the dim light.

"Starlight," Butcher said, swinging the door open fully. "Come to join the party, love?"

Starlight stepped inside, her expression grim. "We need to talk. This whole thing with Superman... it's going to get worse."

Frenchie tilted his head. "Worse? How so?"

Starlight sighed, running a hand through her hair. "Vought's not going to let him roam free for much longer. Stan Edgar has already started pulling strings. And Homelander... Homelander's more unstable than ever. If Superman gets involved, it's only a matter of time before it all blows up."

Butcher raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. "So, what are you suggesting, love?"

Starlight hesitated for a moment before speaking. "We need to get to Superman first. We need to talk to him, convince him that Vought isn't just another corrupt corporation—they're worse. We need him on our side."

Butcher leaned back, folding his arms across his chest. "Oh, I see. You want to play nice with the alien. Think you can convince him with those big, teary eyes of yours?"

Starlight scowled. "This isn't about playing nice, Butcher. This is about survival. If Superman and Homelander go at it, millions of people are going to get caught in the crossfire. We need to stop that from happening."

Butcher's expression remained unreadable for a long moment before he finally nodded. "Alright, Starlight. You want to have a chat with the alien? Let's go have a bloody chat with him."


Vought Tower – The Boardroom

Homelander strode into the expansive boardroom, his cape billowing behind him. The tension in the room was thick, but Stan Edgar sat calmly at the head of the table, his hands folded neatly in front of him. The rest of the board members looked nervous, glancing at one another as Homelander took his seat.

"Homelander," Edgar began, his tone as calm as ever. "We have a problem."

Homelander leaned back in his chair, trying to mask his frustration. "You mean I have a problem."

"No," Edgar corrected him, his gaze unwavering. "We have a problem. Superman's presence has thrown a wrench into our entire operation. The public adores him, the media is latching onto him, and our stock prices have already begun to fluctuate. If this continues, Vought could lose its grip on the superhero market entirely."

Homelander smirked, leaning forward. "So what do you want me to do about it?"

Edgar's eyes darkened. "You need to handle Superman. Publicly."

Homelander frowned, clearly not liking where this was going. "Handle him? You saw what happened. He's... stronger than I expected."

Edgar's tone remained flat. "That's irrelevant. You have the advantage of public perception. You need to use that. Turn this into a PR war. Vought's resources are vast. We'll manufacture crises that only you can solve—situations that Superman won't have time to stop. You'll win the public back, one carefully orchestrated act of heroism at a time."

Homelander's scowl deepened. "So you want me to just... outshine him?"

"Yes," Edgar replied simply. "Outshine him. Make him irrelevant. And if that doesn't work..."

Homelander raised an eyebrow. "And if it doesn't?"

A faint smile crept across Edgar's lips. "Then we'll make sure he never becomes a problem again."


Somewhere Over the City

Far above the city, Superman flew in silent contemplation. The events of the day weighed heavily on him. This world was far more broken than he had anticipated, and its heroes were little more than corporate puppets. He had tried diplomacy, tried to reason with Homelander, but that had been met with nothing but arrogance and aggression.

He didn't want to fight Homelander—not if he didn't have to. But the more he saw, the clearer it became that Homelander wasn't just a misguided hero. Homelander was dangerous—more than that, he was an unstable tyrant hiding behind a facade of heroism, propped up by the most corrupt corporate machine Superman had ever seen. And the people were none the wiser.

Superman's mind raced as he flew, his super-hearing picking up thousands of conversations below, each one reflecting the fractured nature of this world. He couldn't stand by and let Vought continue exploiting these people, nor could he ignore the ticking time bomb that was Homelander.

He needed a plan. But to do that, he needed allies—people who understood the depths of the rot within Vought. People like them.


The Boys' Hideout

Butcher, Starlight, Frenchie, and Hughie gathered around the table, going over the plan. They had intel, thanks to Starlight's position inside the Seven, but getting to Superman was still a logistical nightmare. His movements were erratic, unpredictable. He didn't have a base of operations they could storm like they did with most Supes.

"So how the hell are we supposed to even find him?" Hughie asked, his eyes darting nervously between Butcher and Starlight.

Butcher smirked, lighting a cigarette. "We don't need to find him, sunshine. He'll come to us."

Hughie raised an eyebrow. "And how exactly do you figure that?"

Butcher exhaled a cloud of smoke, grinning wickedly. "Because I've got a plan to make the big blue boy scout real curious."

Frenchie leaned in. "And what plan would that be, mon ami?"

Butcher's eyes gleamed as he glanced over at Starlight, who had been silent for the past few minutes, her face pale. "We're gonna stage a little show. Vought loves their theatrics, don't they? We'll give them something to chew on. And our alien friend will come sniffin' around once he gets wind of it."

Starlight frowned, her arms crossed. "What kind of 'show' are we talking about, Butcher?"

"Oh, don't worry your pretty little head about it," Butcher said, leaning back in his chair, the cigarette hanging from his lips. "Just a few explosions, a bit of chaos. Nothing too grand. But enough to get Superman's attention."

Hughie's face turned pale. "Explosions? You're talking about innocent people getting hurt. We're not blowing up a building just to get him to show up."

Butcher's grin faded, his expression hardening. "Innocent people are getting hurt every day under Vought's watch. We're just speeding things up a bit. If we get Superman on our side, we can end this whole bloody mess once and for all."

Starlight shook her head, her voice sharp. "I didn't agree to this. If we're going to bring Superman into this, we do it the right way. No collateral damage. No innocent lives. Otherwise, we're no better than Homelander."

The room went quiet for a moment, the tension thick in the air. Butcher stared at Starlight for a long time, weighing her words.

Finally, he sighed and stubbed out his cigarette on the table. "Fine. No explosions. We'll do it your way, Starlight. But make no mistake—when it comes to Supes, we can't afford to play nice forever."


Vought Tower – Secret Meeting Room

Stan Edgar stood in a dimly lit room, flanked by several high-ranking Vought executives. Across from them sat a mysterious figure dressed in black, their face obscured by a mask. This was not an official meeting—no board members, no public relations. This was off the books.

"Is the asset ready?" Edgar asked, his voice calm, betraying no emotion.

The masked figure nodded. "Yes. The enhancements are complete. The asset is stronger, faster, and more durable than any of the Seven. It's capable of neutralizing even the most powerful Supes."

Edgar nodded slowly, his mind racing with the possibilities. "And what of Superman?"

"The asset will be enough," the figure assured him. "Superman may be powerful, but he's not invincible. We've studied him—his weaknesses. With the right strategy, he can be brought down."

Edgar's lips curved into a thin smile. "Good. We can't afford to have a wildcard like him disrupting our operations any longer."


The Boys' Hideout – Late Night

As the night deepened, Butcher stood alone outside the hideout, staring up at the stars. The city was quiet now, the distant hum of traffic and the occasional wail of a siren the only sounds that broke the silence.

Starlight had been right, of course. He knew it deep down. They couldn't go in guns blazing, not with Superman. He wasn't like the others. But that didn't mean Butcher trusted him, not by a long shot. He had seen too much, lived through too many lies and betrayals to believe that any Supe could be trusted completely.

But if there was even a chance Superman could help bring down Vought and, more importantly, Homelander, it was worth pursuing. And if Superman turned out to be just another power-hungry god in disguise, well, Butcher had a contingency for that, too.

He glanced down at the small device hidden in his pocket. It wasn't much—just a prototype, a failsafe if things went sideways. Frenchie had helped him rig it together after some deep digging into Superman's biological makeup.

"Always have a backup plan," Butcher muttered to himself, his lips curling into a dark smile.

Suddenly, he heard a faint whoosh overhead, the unmistakable sound of air being displaced by something moving faster than the speed of sound. Butcher looked up, his smile widening as a familiar figure hovered above the streetlights.

Superman had arrived.


Superman Descends

Superman floated down silently, his boots lightly touching the pavement in front of Butcher. His cape fluttered in the cool night breeze, and the streetlights cast long shadows across his face. His expression was unreadable as he studied Butcher.

"You've been causing a lot of trouble," Superman said, his voice calm but firm. "I thought we should talk."

Butcher didn't flinch. Instead, he stepped forward, his grin never leaving his face. "Oh, I'm just getting started, mate. But you already know that, don't ya?"

Superman's eyes narrowed slightly. "You've been watching me. I've heard whispers about you, Butcher. You and your group. You want to bring down Vought."

"That's right," Butcher said, folding his arms. "And I reckon you do, too."

Superman took a slow step forward. "I'm not here to take sides in your war, Butcher. I'm here to stop people like Homelander. People who use their powers to hurt others. If Vought is part of that, then I'll stop them. But I'm not your weapon."

Butcher chuckled darkly. "No, of course not. But you'll find out soon enough, this ain't just about stopping a few bad apples. The whole tree's rotten, and if you wanna make a difference, you'll need to burn it all down."

Superman frowned, crossing his arms. "I won't destroy this world to save it."

Butcher's smile faded, and he met Superman's gaze, his tone turning deadly serious. "And if you don't, mate, it'll be the world that destroys you. One way or another, Vought wins if you try to play by the rules. They've been rigging the game for decades. You can't win that way."

Superman stood there silently for a moment, contemplating Butcher's words. He didn't want to believe it, didn't want to admit that in a world like this, maybe the only way to save it was to tear it down first.

But before he could respond, his super-hearing caught something—a distant explosion, followed by screams.

Superman's eyes widened, and without another word, he shot into the sky, leaving Butcher behind.

Butcher watched him go, his smile returning. "That's right, go on, save the day, Superman. You'll see the truth soon enough."


Vought Tower – The Asset Awakens

Deep beneath Vought Tower, in a hidden underground facility, scientists scrambled as alarms blared. In the center of the room stood a massive containment unit, surrounded by reinforced glass and heavy steel doors.

Inside the containment unit, something stirred.

The asset—Vought's secret weapon—was waking up.

Stan Edgar stood behind a thick wall of observation glass, watching with cold detachment as the creature inside began to move. It had taken years of research, experimentation, and billions of dollars to create this—the ultimate countermeasure against beings like Homelander, and now, Superman.

The asset opened its glowing eyes, its muscles rippling with power. Its skin was nearly indestructible, its strength unmatched by any known Supe.

It was ready.

And soon, it would be unleashed.