Men in suits stormed Starlight's apartment, their service weapons' laser sights trained on Stanford Edgar. Behind them, Arthur Luther Pierce showed his perfectly chiseled mug, a menacing, predatory smile across his face. He was dressed in a pressed, pinstripe business suit, his immensely rock-hard muscles bulging out of it.
"It would seem your past actions have finally caught up with you, Stanford Edgar," Arthur chuckled, to everyone in the room's shock.
"Sold all of my shares of Vought's stock after this little scandal. It shoots up like crazy whenever I buy it. I thank the boomers and their extreme idiocy for that. I feel no pity for them. They sold their children's future out to the Jews so that immigrants will pump the value of the dump they bought during the Reagan Administration. But thankfully, they buy during the pump and sell during the dump like the worthless morons they are," he laughed.
Just when those words came out of his mouth, Starlight was streaming his little rant to all of her followers online. It would appear that Arthur directly underestimated the ways in which modern technology could be used against him. Intelligent as he was, he was from a different time, old enough to be Soldier Boy's father, even. Thus, it stood to reason that, in Starlight's mind, that he could be ruined forever on the internet. But there was one thing she did not even know about her phone.
"Aw, isn't that adorable? Who do you think does all of the lithography inside of the microprocessors of your overpriced phone, little miss Hypatia? Spoiler alert: it's Pierce Enterprise's subsidiary, Pierce Silicon Corporation, you moronic little twat," Arthur said, both laughing and clapping his hands.
"What possessed you to think that was ever going to work?" scoffed Stormfront. "Pierce pretty much controls the entire electronics market. Why he never got in trouble for holding an illegal monopoly over an essential product to the modern day to day life I'll never understand."
"Ugh, I extorted over half of Congress, the Supreme Court, and the United States Executive branch. Of course, the kikes would not go along with it; however, those cowardly parasites fold like origami swans when faced with the possibility of waking up in the vacuum of space, freezing and choking as their eye balls explode into bursts of steam. That is not to say it is growing increasingly difficult to subvert the will of the American Government. Tried that shit with Victoria Nuemann and I suffered a nasty case of hypertensive retinopathy while she somehow survived atmospheric reentry without a scratch. I had dark patches and floaters in my vision for two fucking months. Bottom line, she tries to blind me like that again, I will fry her retinas out with the immensely bright light of my plasma-based optical beams. In the meantime, I have got bigger fish to fry with Europe falling under the rule of the God Emperor," he explained to Stormfront.
"And that is why I am totally certain I will get away with everything, including that rampage you have witnessed where upon I slaughtered the kikes of Israel by the tens of thousands and smashed Tel Aviv to dust simply by flying through the city really fast. Their populations were just insects hitting the wind shield of a speeding car. Tell me, Abram, what quarrel does a cockroach have with a boot? With North America, I will destroy Jew York, Chicongo, Hongcouver, and just about every area overpopulated with brown subhuman trash. The White survivors may despise me at first, but their children's minds will be changed, generation to generation, until your wretched race is but a boogeyman told in children's bedtime stories. That is your ultimate fate, for history, as always, is written by the victors, and I, the Aryan God, will be victorious. No matter what. It would matter little if your pathetic, brown slave races outnumbered Whites a million to one. I will kill them all by the hundreds of thousands until only my chosen people were allowed to inherit the Earth," he taunted Abram, his eyes glowing a blindingly bright, red-shifted white.
Abram was quite despondent, knowing the monster he had awoken in his folly to get some kind of petty revenge against Europeans for the holocaust. If he had known of the giant that was slumbering in his cave, he would not have kidnapped his child all to get revenge on Stormfront. In fact, he would have let Arthur have Europe and North America, in the hopes that the Jewish people would be left alone in Israel, along with the many billions of non-Europeans within the relative safety of their homelands. He even regretted being cursed with his sexual proclivities that got him the worst treatment in the concentration camps. He sat there on Starlight's blood-stained bed, tears streaking down his face as Pierce looked upon him with a smile. No, he was not giving him the satisfaction.
"Do you realize that you are not even special, that you are what any White man from your time period would do if they never aged and had your level of power. You are going to turn the world to shit, a spoilt, inbred child's personal Auschwitz. And while I realize you will probably succeed, that Vought and Israel's efforts were thwarted to stop you decades ago. I take solace in knowing that in the distant future, probably a century or so, you will fall to one of your heirs. So by all means, attack the United States, wipe out the government and the infrastructure, then have it rebuilt once all of the people you deem undesirable exterminated in artificial famines. Your son and his progeny breed like rats, and boom: endless power struggles until this planet eventually becomes unfit for Human life. And since the caloric needs of people infected with the symbiotic virus of the progenitor serum are almost as high as a speedster like A-Train, this is a problem that will eventually solve itself," stated Abram, struggling to pronounce those words as clearly as possible without his tongue.
"Tell me kike, when I send you to the deepest depths of hell, would you exist, forever in perpetual suffering, without your appendages? I mean, I do not care. The concept of a heaven or a hell is just some Jewish slave morality forced upon the White race by degenerate, subversive animals like the Jewish people. But to you, hell is an ever-present threat in the afterlife if your do not appease your phony Jewish god, huh? But I do not need that authority, for I am the only god in this world, and I, Arthur Luther Pierce, Duke of Whitechapel, will reduce you to bloody fertilizer for one of my gardens in one of my hill top mansions. Not only do I have flight, strength, radioactive laser beam-like eyes, invulnerability, I am also bred from European nobility. I am practically a fucking Windsor. I can slice you into two ragged, charred pieces with but a simple glance. I can slug you so hard that you are nothing but red mist splattering all over the walls, while putting out enough force to create a telekinetic shockwave able to smash the walls behind you. The only reason why you are still alive is because I take amusement in watching you suffer," responded Arthur.
The fact that Arthur Luther Pierce not only waltzed into Starlight's room to gloat at Abram, but he also had their boss, Standford Edgar, sent to prison on trumped up child pornography charges. The fact that he took to the time to fly through her bed room, likely at supersonic speeds, while she was asleep early in the morning to plant a mutilated, terrified Abram on her bed was just a truly horrifying level of sadism never yet heard of. She felt sorry for Abram, child molester or not. Nobody deserved to have their limbs removed by a chainsaw, their junk torn off, and their tongue wrenched out of their mouths. That was cruel and unusual.
"I do not care if he tortured your kids for his amusement and science. That was cruel and unusual punishment," Starlight yelled.
"Oh sweet innocent Starlight, you do not have kids; therefore, you have no right to comment on the situation. Besides, I took his legs after he paralyzed me with a piece of hypersonic rebar in 1985 WHEN HE TELEKINETICALLY SHOT IT THROUGH MY SPINE! My son took his hands and melted off his face shortly before topping Abram's kids and doing something to his wife," Arthur replied angrily.
Arthur then turned to Abram, smiling.
"Speaking of your wife, did she top herself after my son shoved a white-hot piece of metal rebar from your house's rubble into her fun tunnel," laughed Arthur.
Maeve was silent, standing, watching, seething with anger as Arthur was gloating about his exploits to everyone in the room. She walked behind him, Arthur still boasting of his crimes as if he was completely unstoppable, that nobody was left to contest him. She understood his cockiness to a degree, but not to the point where she would be bragging of criminal acts that would get someone killed in the general prison population, assuming he was not given VIP treatment by the Aryan Brotherhood. So, she walked behind, still too absorbed in his arrogant, supervillain-like gloating to even notice her.
"She did," cried Abram.
Arthur let out a maniacal laugh. Stormfront grinned with satisfaction. Before Arthur could take in at the destruction and misery him and his son wrought on the Jewish people, he was knocked over from a hard shove on to the floor of Starlight's apartment. Then his head was slammed so hard that whatever hitting him may as well have been an armor-piercing 120mm shell, shattering the tile with a loud bang. The sound it made as it struck his head was like two bowling balls crashing together at high speed. He felt a wet sensation on his nose, followed by some of the worst pain he felt in years, close to having his spine perforated.
He looked up to find that it was Maeve, her face contorted in anger. He shot up with help of his flight, adeptly dodging Maeve's punches, muai tai kicks, levitating off the air at the tips of his feet. She looked like she wanted to kill him over what he did. It was not her fault really. The media bosses told her people like Pierce were monsters from cradle to adulthood, so it was a trained reaction.
"Elena is paralyzed because of the explosion of the UN building, you fucking limey prick," she screamed.
She punched Arthur in the throat, causing him to choke for a brief moment as his solar plexus was momentarily crushed. Immediately she seized the opportunity to punch Pierce in the ear while he was clutching his throat, causing blood to shoot out as a tightly packed pressure wave flew into his ear canal like a massive, close-range bomb. Another one struck his jaw, immediately causing his teeth to slice up the walls of his mouth, splashing a gush of blood on Starlight's poster. Maeve crouched down, cocking a fist, then jumped upwards, then sent Arthur sprawling on the ground in an aerial trail of blood.
Arthur spat out some blood and teeth in Abram's face, got up, and proceeded to get into a fighting stance. Aside from speed blitzing Sampson out in Israel, he never fought someone on his level before, and he did not have the luxury of nuclear fire searing all of his nerve ending so he did not feel any pain. He could feel the four inch, cast iron shell fragment of the fifteen-centimeter diameter munition that detonated next to him in the trenches of the Somme at the tail end of World War One rattling around inside of his skull.
Arthur hit back, punching Maeve really hard in the jaw, sending her flying across the room through a wall. She shot back up and tackled Arthur to the ground, repeatedly punching him in the face. The floor beneath Arthur gave away and Maeve continued to punch him, splattering red mist in opposing direction, to Maeve's left and right.
Arthur then threw Maeve off when they landed on solid ground, hard, only to hear a loud hissing sound behind his left leg. The pain sensation in that region of his left hamstring was painful momentarily. He tried to fly away but could not. In fact, he could not even move his right leg. Arthur then looked down to find that there was a baseball sized, ragged charred hole burned into his hamstring, deep enough for him to stick his thumb into.
Arthur turned to find Homelander was behind him, up above, the star-spangled banner billowing in the wind behind him as his eyes turned from blue to red for another blast. Arthur ducked behind the Soldier Boy Statue in Vought Square.
His eyes changed from green to blue as he immediately made the steel Soldier Boy Statue transparent with his penetra vision, then changing to a red shifting white, smoke emanating from the left and right eyes. Two beams of superheated, redshifted plasma shot forth from each of Arthur's eyes into Homelander's chest. It didn't seriously burn him, but the concussive energy released sent him flying back through Vought Tower like a bullet.
Arthur flew up as quickly as he could, immediately creating a vapor cone as he desperately flew away from the Seven before anyone of them could deliver the killing blow to him. He was concussed. He had a broken jaw, a broken nose as a result of Maeve's punches and his cocaine use. If Maeve was able to cause that damage to him, Arthur did not want to know what Homelander could do to him. It was time to bravely run away, away, like Sir Robin.
Stan Edgar was in Riker's Maximum-security prison, getting searched and processed for the sheer amount of illicit pornography he was charged with. He had no idea how it even got there, as the files just appeared on his work computer while he was comforting Starlight when that mutilated Israeli suddenly appeared in her bed from a ragged hole smashed through the window and the crisscross frame of Vought Tower. Then Arthur showed his obnoxiously perfect, chiseled mug, several FBI agents right behind him. Edgar was not even read his rights. It was like he was framed. Stan Edgar knew he was being framed. He was not even a sexual being, let alone the type who would molest small children like Arthur had him framed for.
He passed by several prisoners on his way to his cell, many of them white, latino, or African, a lot of the white people in there members of the Russian Mafia who did not have the juice to order the deaths of their witnesses. Thus, they rot in prison for life, as those were the types of criminal behavior liable to get one sent to Riker's Island. Terabytes of illicit pornography.
"Oh look, a svoloch nigger who is into little kiddies. I think you and I are going to have one hell of a time in general population," one of the Russians said, thrusting his pelvis as if threatening to rape Edgar.
"Eh Puto! I am going to fuck you in the ass with this shard of broken mirror in my hand, child molesting monkey," threatened a latino inmate while making ape noises at Edgar.
For the first time in his life, Edgar could feel fear, knowing that a horrific fate awaited him inside of these rebar concrete walls. Everyone was screaming obscenities at him through these walls, hundreds upon hundreds of ethnic slurs from the varying ethnicities who populated this well guarded fortress of a prison. Everywhere inside of these cellblocks, there was the phrase "The God Emperor of Europe Protects" written in dried blood that the corrections officers have not yet found the time to wash. Some of these messages were even written in dried feces, too.
Many of these men were not even locked in there for violent crimes, but hatespeech on the internet in accordance with the Cohen Act meant life without the prospect of parole. Some of them were little more than computer nerds locked away for life for simply saying the wrong word on the internet. A few were in there for denying the holocaust. Many more were in there for protesting Bernard Cohen's actions against the UK, seeing it as an unnecessary war. Congress was quick to throw the constitution in the paper shredder when Arthur stuck his perfectly formed Greek nose into the UK through his evil demon spawn child.
Just as it was Arthur's fault Edgar was imprisoned, so too was it his fault that many Americans now languished in prison for forcing the hand of the left-wing elite. Edgar only wished Arthur went to jail for saying the wrong thing, but given all of the other crimes he had gotten away for the past several decades, like Stormfront, but there was no evidence to expose him. There was now Church of the Collective to shut him down. He had his own cult, and that was the Church of The Creator, a fast-growing religion that threatened to supplant Christendom as the preferred religion of American White men.
That same esoteric religion, founded in the 1970s by Arthur Pierce and Benjamin Klassen, was taking hold in Rikers among the White prisoners. In the holy texts, it stated Arthur was an incarnation of Odin, the Allfather, the creator of all life in the known world, and the White race. This was a man who created an entire mythology around his ability to psychically bend reality to his whim. And now, because prophecies in his holy texts came true in reality, it was now a growing religion, already infecting the minds of twenty percent of the American population, even though it was an entirely illegal faith. Edgar was sheltered from this nonsense in his rural mansion, but recent events have forced him to face what the common man was facing.
All of these insane cultists had the chance to drive a shiv into Edgar's heart on a whim because of the color of his skin. Killing non-Whites in the religion was considered advancing the White Aryan race, and that was guaranteed to get one into heaven. In that heaven, their bravery was rewarded in the form of a harem of curvaceous blonde, blue-eyed virgins of childbearing age that would pleasure them for all eternity in the afterlife. The only reason why these worshippers were not in prison was because the police did not have the resources to even hope to arrest them all. In fact, there were rumors they were stockpiling weapons for a Holy Crusade against the United States. US military ordinance and weapons were disappearing for the past eight months, since the rise of this horrid religion.
Some of the cultists were now throwing things at Stan Edgar. They were throwing things at him from the top of the cell blocks above. These included bricks, broken pieces of glass in the hopes that something would land on him, all of them landing next to his feet or beside. He winced in pain when Prison Napalm, boiled sugar water, struck his foot, gruesomely blistering it. Stan let out a pained wail as his foot burned deeply and intensely.
He could not believe it at all. Edgar expected to be attacked for being an accused pedophile, sure. But these people were bringing his race into it, and actively going out of their way to terrorize him for being black. Sometimes he would even feel jars of broken glass striking his feet, their razor sharp shrapnel cutting in and embedding inside of his already scalded, blistered foot.
When he finally got into his cell, the news was playing on an old bulky, cathode ray tube television. There was the new replacement for Cameron Coleman, a Jewish man by the name of Joseph Feinberg, selected for his replacement if something were to go wrong with Coleman. Feinberg was a short fat man with a large nose that was most of his chinless, sloped forehead for a face. He reminded Edgar of the Danny Devito character from Black Noir Returns in 1992. Why, he even sported a three-piece suit, wearing a pinstripe vest underneath his jacket. He had a grim smile on his face.
That was until he read the headline underneath, at the bottom of the screen, which said, "Arthur Finally Exposed As A Nazi Collaborator. This of course explained Feinberg's smile, since the Jews hated everything related to Pierce, his corporation, and even refused to use most electronic devices, since Pierce controlled the lithography that made high-tech computers in the same way Bill Gates controlled the operating system for desktop and laptop computers. Stan knew some people who missed out on critical stock market trades because of this, willing to go bankrupt rather than sink as low as using one of his corporation's products
It quickly panned to footage of Maeve pummeling his face, from the cratered bottom of Seven Tower, only for him to recover and send Maeve up into the air with a swift, desperate upper-cut. Arthur was bloodied, severely injured with a swollen, asymmetrical jaw, a crooked bloody nose, and blood trickling out of his right ear. He fell over fifty stories down onto hard concrete. If those feats of strength did not show the world he was a supe, then he would lose complete faith in the American public. They deserve whatever tyranny Arthur dishes out in order to shock them out of their complacency.
From behind, Homelander emitted to powerful laser beams into Arthur's leg, burning a gnarly thumb-sized hole in his leg, leaving him with a limp. Fortunately for Arthur, he was able to limp his way to safety before blasting Homelander with high energy beams of superheated plasma, spouting forth from his eyes at near luminal velocity.
Later on, it paned to Homelander with a bandage, a compress rather, taped to his chest. Maeve's hair was changed from long and wavy to a blunt cut, as some of her hair was singed as a result of atmospheric reentry. Starlight was wearing a bandage over one of her eyes from a piece of shrapnel Arthur's powerful, bomb-like punches on Maeve, which already healed up.
"Arthur Pierce will be brought to justice. He thought in his arrogance that he was powerful, but he was only able to give Maeve a few bruises and me mild radiation burns. The corneal irritation Starlight got from a shard of flying drywall will be healed in a few days. The sunburn on my chest will be gone in six hours. And while he also shoots beta particles out of his eyes as a result of the ionization atoms experience as a result of moving at relativistic speeds, they are not fast enough to penetrate super-abled flesh. Arthur is a coward. He flew away like the coward he was to God knows where," proclaimed Homelander, a sense of pride in the Seven's victory.
Before Edgar could take in the victory, he felt a hot, sharp pain in his back. As an added bonus, he even lost movement in his legs as well. Edgar collapsed to the floor, only to notice a familiar face looming over him, that same boyfriend of the woman A-Train ran through in desperation to grab some more Compound V to shoot up. He was Hughie Campell, though he was not the information technology nerd he knew so well. Hughie was hulkingly muscular.
In his right hand, Hughie was wielding a sharpened tooth brush, and he was blazingly fast with it, too, almost on the level of a supe. The last thing Edgar could see was the sharp, business end of the tooth brush heading straight for his eyes so quickly that the brightly colored plastic was a blur. Edgar could not even react and all he could see were flashes of light at the corners of his vision and then complete darkness. Edgar's cheeks felt wet with a mixture of blood and gel and the tell-tale burning sensation of being stabbed was felt in both of his eyes. He was blind.
Edgar screamed in agony, but the guards did not even respond. All he could hear was the cheers of the prisoners across from his cell. The only thing Edgar was wishing for was for it to be all over. He felt that same burning sensation, from ear to ear, across his entire throat. Then he was choking on a coppery-tasting fluid. He was not worried. Edgar was glad that his torment inside of Rikers Island's walls were all over in those fleeting moments of terror.
A/N What happened to Edgar was a pretty realistic depiction of what happens to pedophiles in the general prison population. They do sadistic and brutal shit to them that makes Homelander and Stormfront look downright gentle in comparison.