Chapter 10: "The Fall of a False God"


Earlier that Day – Vought Tower

The sun rose over Vought Tower, casting long shadows across the city. Inside, the atmosphere was tense. Homelander stood in the war room, watching news reports cycle through endless debates and criticisms. Ever since Superman's public speech, the tides had begun to turn, and for the first time in his career, Homelander's image wasn't untouchable.

His once-adoring fans were questioning him, doubting the perfection he had spent years curating. Even the media, which Vought had always controlled, was no longer completely on his side. The headlines were everywhere: Is Superman the Hero We Need? Homelander vs. Superman: A Nation Divided.

Homelander's face twitched as he watched the news anchors speak. Their voices grated on him, their words filled with doubt and skepticism. Superman's presence was poisoning everything he had built—his reputation, his adoration, his sense of control.

Ashley Barrett, head of PR, entered the room cautiously. She had seen the signs—Homelander's slow unraveling, the tightening grip he had on his public persona. His recent behavior was erratic, volatile.

"Homelander," Ashley began, her voice cautious. "We're still running damage control. The PR team is working overtime to spin the latest news in your favor. We just need to be—"

"Spin?" Homelander's voice was low, dangerous. He turned slowly, his eyes blazing. "You think I need spin?"

Ashley froze, her heart racing. She had seen Homelander angry before, but this was different. His entire body was taut, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles were white. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out.

"They're doubting me," Homelander hissed, pacing like a caged animal. "They're comparing me to him!" His voice grew louder, venom dripping from every word. "Superman thinks he can just show up and take what's mine?"

Ashley took a cautious step back. "No, no, of course not. You're—"

"I'm their hero!" Homelander's voice cracked, filled with something that was no longer arrogance but desperation. "I am the only one they need. They love me. They... they worship me."

His voice grew quieter, more manic, as if he were trying to convince himself. Ashley's eyes widened as she took another step toward the door, her pulse quickening. She knew she had to leave—now.

But before she could reach the door, Homelander snapped. His eyes flashed red as he unleashed a blast of heat vision, obliterating the door in a burst of fire and molten metal. Ashley screamed, dropping to the floor, her hands covering her head as the heat from the blast washed over her.

When she looked up, Homelander was gone.


The Streets of New York – Moments Later

The first explosion ripped through a skyscraper on 42nd Street, sending glass and debris raining down onto the streets below. Screams echoed through the air as people fled in terror, their faces twisted in fear and confusion.

High above the city, Homelander hovered, his eyes glowing with an eerie red light. His face was contorted into a snarl, his teeth bared. The city below him, the very place he once ruled as a god, now seemed like an enemy.

They didn't love him anymore.

They doubted him.

They questioned him.

Homelander screamed, a raw, primal sound, and unleashed another blast of heat vision, cutting through a nearby building like a knife through butter. The structure groaned and collapsed, sending dust and debris billowing into the streets.

Cars screeched to a halt, their drivers scrambling to get away as fire engulfed the wreckage. People ran in all directions, trying to escape the carnage. But Homelander wasn't done.

With a roar of rage, he flew down to the street, slamming into the pavement with enough force to crack the ground. His eyes blazed as he grabbed a car and hurled it into the side of a building. The explosion lit up the sky, casting an orange glow over the chaos.

He stalked through the destruction, his fists clenched, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. "They don't deserve me," he muttered, his voice shaking with fury. "I gave them everything. And now... now they turn on me?"

He spotted a group of terrified civilians huddled together in the doorway of a nearby shop, their faces pale with fear. Homelander grinned, a twisted, cruel smile. He raised his hand, preparing to incinerate them with a blast of heat vision.

But before he could release the energy, a booming voice echoed through the sky.

"That's enough."

Homelander froze, his eyes narrowing. He turned slowly, the glow in his eyes dimming slightly as he looked up.

Hovering above the city, bathed in the golden light of the setting sun, was Superman.


The Showdown – Upper Manhattan

The wind howled through the devastated streets as Superman and Homelander faced each other. Below them, the city burned. Skyscrapers lay in ruin, and the streets were filled with rubble. Fires raged unchecked, and the screams of fleeing civilians echoed through the air.

Superman floated silently, his eyes hard as they scanned the destruction below. He could hear the terrified cries of the people trapped in the rubble, the desperate pleas for help. His heart ached, but his focus was on the man responsible for this carnage.

Homelander hovered several blocks away, his face twisted into a mocking grin. His suit was tattered, his blonde hair disheveled, but the smug arrogance in his eyes remained.

"You think you can stop me?" Homelander sneered, his voice dripping with contempt. "You have no idea who you're dealing with."

Superman didn't respond immediately. His gaze remained fixed on Homelander, his face calm but resolute. When he finally spoke, his voice was low, but filled with quiet authority.

"This ends now."

Homelander's grin faltered, replaced by a snarl of rage. Without warning, he lunged forward, a sonic boom following in his wake as he barreled toward Superman. His fist swung toward Superman's face with lethal intent.

But Superman was ready.

He raised his arm, blocking the blow. The impact sent a shockwave rippling through the air, shattering the windows of nearby buildings. Superman was pushed back, crashing through the side of a skyscraper, the structure groaning under the strain as it began to collapse.

Superman caught himself mid-fall, hovering above the wreckage as dust and debris floated around him. He didn't have time to catch his breath—Homelander was on him again, fists flying in a barrage of strikes. Each blow shook the air, creating shockwaves that rippled through the city.

Superman ducked, weaved, and blocked with inhuman precision, absorbing the blows that landed. Every punch reverberated through him, but he held firm. His expression never changed, his focus unbreakable.

Suddenly, Homelander disengaged, floating backward. His eyes blazed with fury as he unleashed a torrent of heat vision. The red beams seared through the air, vaporizing everything in their path. Superman's eyes narrowed as he fired back with his own heat vision.

The two beams collided mid-air, crackling with power. The heat from their clash ignited nearby buildings, turning the sky red with fire. For a moment, they were locked in a stalemate, their heat visions pushing against each other with immense force.

But Superman was stronger.

His heat vision slowly overtook Homelander's, inch by inch, pushing the energy back toward him. Realizing he was losing ground, Homelander cut off his beams and darted to the side, narrowly avoiding Superman's heat vision as it incinerated the ground where he stood.

Enraged, Homelander flew straight at Superman, grabbing him by the neck and driving them both into the street below with a deafening crash. The impact created a crater, sending debris flying in all directions.

Superman slammed into the ground but quickly grabbed Homelander's wrist, twisting it and forcing him off. With a powerful shove, Superman threw Homelander back, sending him skidding across the ruined street.

Homelander pushed himself up, snarling. He launched himself at Superman again, but this time, Superman was ready. He sidestepped Homelander's punch, grabbed his arm, and flipped him over, slamming him into the pavement.

The ground cracked under the force, and Homelander groaned in pain, his body bouncing off the ground like a ragdoll.

Superman took to the sky, dragging Homelander up with him by the collar of his suit. High above the city, Superman unleashed a flurry of punches, each one faster and stronger than the last. Homelander, struggling to keep up, swung wildly, but his attacks were slow and desperate.

With each punch, Superman's face remained calm, his actions precise and measured. His fists blurred as he pummeled Homelander, driving him further and further into the sky. Blood began to drip from Homelander's nose and mouth as his body took blow after blow.

Finally, Homelander, panting heavily, his frame battered and broken, screamed in rage. He fired a blast of heat vision directly at Superman's chest, hoping to catch him off guard.

But Superman didn't flinch. The heat vision hit him square in the chest, but it didn't leave a mark, not even a singe. The searing beams of energy seemed to dissipate against his suit, as if absorbed by something far greater than heat and fury. Superman looked down at Homelander, his face a mask of unflinching resolve.

"You're done," Superman said, his voice quiet yet carrying the full weight of authority. It was not a threat, but a statement of fact.

Homelander's eyes widened in disbelief. His heat vision had leveled buildings, incinerated enemies, and caused devastation beyond measure. But now, his ultimate weapon—the thing that made him feel invincible—was nothing. Useless.

"No! NO!" Homelander screamed, his voice rising to a desperate pitch. "I'm the hero! I'm the one they love!" His voice cracked, the hysteria taking over. "They need me!"

Superman's grip on Homelander's collar tightened as he began to descend, his flight growing faster and faster. The wind screamed around them as Superman plunged toward the ground at supersonic speed, Homelander still struggling weakly in his grasp.

At the last possible moment, Superman released him. Homelander's body slammed into the ground, creating an impact crater the size of a city block. The earth buckled and cracked under the force, sending shockwaves through the surrounding area. Cars flipped, windows shattered, and nearby buildings groaned under the force of the shockwave.

Homelander lay in the center of the crater, motionless. His once pristine blue suit was torn and bloodied, his cape tattered and stained with dirt. Blood trickled from his mouth, his nose, his eyes. The so-called invincible hero looked small, broken.

Superman hovered above the devastation for a moment, surveying the destruction. The once-vibrant city was a smoking ruin, the damage from Homelander's rampage stretching for miles in every direction. He could hear the cries of the wounded, the panicked shouts of those still trying to escape the chaos. His heart ached for the lives lost, for the city that had been reduced to rubble.

But this—this was necessary.

Superman floated down gently, landing a few feet from Homelander's limp body. He approached cautiously, knowing the danger that still lay in Homelander's raw, unpredictable nature. But the fight had drained him. The godlike arrogance that had once defined Homelander was now gone, replaced by something pitiful. Something human.

Homelander coughed weakly, blood splattering his lips. He looked up at Superman with blurry, red-rimmed eyes, his voice nothing more than a hoarse whisper.

"I'm... I'm the hero," he choked out. "They... need me... I'm loved..."

Superman's face was unreadable, but there was no anger, no vengeance in his eyes. Just the quiet determination of someone who had seen this cycle of violence and destruction before. Someone who had fought this battle countless times—against egos, against corruption, against those who believed power made them gods.

"They don't need you," Superman said softly, his words final. "They never did."

Homelander's body shuddered as he tried to rise, but he collapsed back into the dirt, too weak to stand. He stared at Superman, disbelief and despair etched across his once-proud features.

Superman, standing tall, looked down at the broken man before him, knowing he could finish it now. One final blow, one final act, and Homelander would never terrorize another soul. His fists clenched at his sides, but he didn't strike. He wouldn't become the executioner Homelander wanted him to be.

This wasn't his way.

Instead, Superman turned, stepping away from the wreckage, and slowly began to rise into the sky. The world didn't need another tyrant. It needed justice, order, and hope—things Homelander could never provide. Things Superman was sworn to protect.

As Superman ascended, leaving Homelander broken in the crater, police and emergency services began arriving at the scene, sirens wailing as they rushed to help the injured. Firefighters scrambled to douse the flames still burning across the city, while medics treated the wounded.


Vought Tower – Later That Night

Back at Vought Tower, the remaining executives watched the footage unfold from the safety of their secure conference room. Stan Edgar stood at the center, his calm gaze fixed on the monitor that showed the ruined city below.

"Homelander has failed," one of the executives murmured nervously, his voice barely audible. "Superman... he's too powerful. We underestimated him."

Edgar didn't respond immediately. His fingers tapped lightly against the table as he processed the events of the day. Vought had poured everything into controlling Homelander, into making him their symbol of ultimate power. But now, he was broken, and Superman had taken his place in the public's eyes.

Edgar turned away from the monitor, his face calm, as always. "Homelander was never the endgame," he said, his voice steady. "We've already started working on the next phase."

The room went quiet, the weight of his words sinking in. No one dared question Edgar's vision, not now. Even with Homelander's collapse, Vought's influence was far from over.


The Streets of New York – The Aftermath

Superman hovered above the city, surveying the destruction left in the wake of Homelander's rampage. His heart weighed heavy with the knowledge that lives had been lost—lives he hadn't been able to save in time. But he had done what needed to be done.

As he drifted higher into the sky, he could see the scope of the damage. Buildings reduced to rubble, streets torn apart, smoke rising from fires that still smoldered. But amidst the chaos, he also saw people. People helping each other, pulling others from the wreckage, offering food and water, sheltering the displaced.

It was the resilience of humanity that gave him hope.

His super-hearing picked up the distant voices of news anchors, their tones shifting now from fear to hope as they reported on the battle that had just unfolded. Superman was no longer the unknown threat Vought had tried to paint him as. He had stood up to the most dangerous Supe the world had ever known and won.

But it wasn't a victory he celebrated.

As Superman flew away from the city, leaving it in the capable hands of its people, he knew this was just the beginning. Vought was still out there, pulling strings, manipulating public perception, and plotting their next move. But he would be ready.

Because Superman wasn't just here to fight battles. He was here to protect a world that needed more than power—it needed hope.