Chapter 28 - Road to Hell
(Grace Mallory's Estate - Upstate New York, Adirondack Mountains - June 21st 2022)
KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!
Grace Mallory moved towards her front door, her right hand holding her pistol tight behind her back. She looked at the feed of her security cameras, which showed no one was at the door. She quickly put her phone away; her security feed had clearly been tampered with, and whoever was at the door wasn't friendly. As she approached the door, she placed one hand on the handle and pressed herself against the wall. She could swing the door open and fire from her position—no point in standing in the middle of the hallway to get shot. She also eyed the watch on her wrist that Lois' husband Clark had given her. Although not his biggest fan, he was reliable, and she would press the emergency signal if she started to get overwhel—
Click!
Mallory froze as she felt the barrel of the gun pressed into her ribs; the pressure and angle told her it was a professional, as any attempt at sudden movement would result in at least one lung being punctured. She raised her hands up, careful to show that she wasn't trying to use her gun as she formulated how to subdue whoever this was.
"Drop it, and open the door." Mallory froze as she turned her head and was greeted by the face of Lois Lane, who had a look of fury on her face that she had never seen before. Well, she had—just not on Lane's face.
"Lane, what are you doi—" Mallory attempted to move but found the gun pressed hard into her ribs, stopping her from saying anything more.
"No talking, just do it." Lois' tone would have been enough to make Mallory comply. She opened the door, her eyes narrowing as she saw Hughie, Butcher and the rest of the Boys, along with Diana.
Mallory quickly found herself forced into her living room. MM, Butcher, and Kimiko cleared furniture, creating a space which was quickly filled by a chair Hughie brought in from the dining room. She was seated and handcuffed to the chair by Lois, whom she wished she hadn't taught so well at this moment, as she found that getting out of the cuffs would be tricky. However, her focus quickly shifted to Diana, who placed a metal rope around her that she pulled tight, earning a grunt from Mallory.
"Oww," Mallory's sarcastic comment earned her a raised eyebrow from Lois. "So what is this, some sort of magic rope that will make me tell the truth?"
"No," Lois pulled another chair to sit across from Mallory, the gun still in her hands as she crossed her legs, placing it on her lap. "That rope is made of a special material one hundred times stronger than steel. Clark bought it to help train Ryan. If it's pulled tight enough, it will cut you in half. Which Diana will do. If you lie at any moment."
"Trust me, I'll know." Diana accompanied her statement with a small yank of the rope, causing Mallory to grunt.
"I want to know about Nicaragua, BCL Red, and what killed Soldier Boy." Lois' words caused Mallory's focus to fix on her completely, and despite the situation she was in, Mallory just sighed.
"Sam, oh Sam." Mallory just shook her head and seemed to manage to look like this was all one poor joke. "I'm guessing he did the whole 'I don't remember' bit. Trust me, he remembers. He's just pointed you to me in the hopes that you'll be more pissed at me than him. Trust me, untie me and we will get him to tell you without the ro—"
BANG!
Everyone froze as Lois fired a shot that landed squarely between Mallory's legs. The shot was so close and so precise that it had torn part of Mallory's trousers but hadn't drawn blood or even left a scratch.
"I don't fucking CARE! I DON'T CARE ABOUT MY DAD AND YOU PINNING BLAME ON EACH OTHER! OR YOUR GODDAMN GAMES! THEY TOOK MY KIDS!" Lois exploded so violently as she stood up that her chair flew back, and she was brandishing her weapon with such fury that even Diana stepped back a little. "So you are going to tell me everything right now! I want to know about BCL Red. I want to know how we kill these fuckers. So that we can fucking end this."
"Lois," Lois turned around, about to shout again, when she saw it was Hughie who had stepped forward. The concern in his eyes caused her to pause. "Lois, maybe... maybe we should try Annie or wait for Clark. This is all... we could be going too far."
"We haven't heard from Clark in nearly two days. Annie and the League can't stop Homelander." Lois's tone was quiet and muted, but the cold, hard look in her eyes told Hughie that any protest he was willing to give would just fall on deaf ears. "This is the only way."
Hughie opened his mouth, but instead just moved away to the back of the room, crossing his arms as he glanced around at everyone but made no further protest. Lois shared a look with Butcher, who just gave her a firm nod as she focused back on Mallory, the grip on her gun becoming tighter as she willed herself forward. She picked up her chair and sat back down, taking a deep breath as her calm demeanour returned to her.
"If you are having any further doubt about telling us, Butcher borrowed your ledger." Lois' words caused a frown to appear on everyone's face apart from Butcher, Lois and Mallory—the latter's fell into wide-eyed horror. "The one in the safe behind Bush number one. He's got a lovely post ready to go. So, shall we cut the shit and you start telling me what I want to know?"
There was a moment of silence as everyone watched who was going to blink first, and just as Diana was about to pull the rope tighter, Mallory let out a sigh. The old spy just seemed to deflate a little as she looked away from Lois and out a nearby window, her mind going back to a different time. One that she clearly did not care for, if the bitter look she had and the apparent sour taste in her mouth were anything to go by.
"You'll wish you hadn't. It was part of Operation Charly, Reagan's pet project, deep off the books." Mallory replied, her eyes fixed on Lois with a steel she hadn't seen before. "Help the Contra rebels fight the Soviet-backed Sandinistas. Fucking clusterfuck. We were there for support. Me and Lane."
"And were you involved in the other side?" MM spoke up, causing Mallory to look at him, and for the first time, Hughie saw regret in the spy's eyes.
"What other side?" Hughie asked, as MM just glared at Mallory, who shifted at the look but finally gave in and provided an answer.
"To fund their fight, the Contras smuggled coke into the US. The CIA looked the other way." Mallory's admitted her eyes darting away from MM as she did so. "As long as we only sold it in minority neighbourhoods. Orders from the top. Keep the Soviets out of Central America, whatever it takes."
"Jesus Christ," Hughie whispered, his eyes widening.
"Yeah, well, that's not even the worst part." Mallory continued, her voice taking on a hollow quality. "Payback was there. Soldier Boy, Crimson Countess, Gunpowder, the whole fucking team. They were supposed to be our ace in the hole—superhuman support for the Contras. Make it look like America's heroes were backing freedom fighters. That fucking prick Stan Edgar's idea"
"Stan Edgar, he was there?" Lois pressed, leaning forward. "What happened?"
" Yeah, he was in the middle of all of it. And what happened was what always happens when you put a bunch of narcissistic, drug-addled supes in a war zone with no oversight." Mallory's face twisted into disgust. "2 weeks they were there. And they went off-script from day fucking one. Soldier Boy, especially. The man was a walking disaster—drunk on power, actual alcohol, and whatever else he could get his hands on. Which in camp that smuggled coke, as you imagine, was a ton of coke. He didn't give a shit about the mission. None of them did. Fucking Swatto, got himself killed stepping on one of our landmines"
"And my father?" Lois asked, her voice tight.
"Sam was... different then." Mallory's eyes softened slightly, a hint of something that might have been affection flickering across her face before hardening again. "Still a true believer. Still thought we were the good guys. Or at least that following orders was the whole point of well existing. He tried to keep Payback in line, tried to make the mission work. But Soldier Boy..." She trailed off, shaking her head.
"What did he do?" MM's voice was low, dangerous.
"Everything. Civilian casualties. War crimes. Rape." Mallory spat the words out like poison, the disgust on her face said it was liekly much worse than her simple words could convey. "And his team just looked the other way. Every. Single. It was a well-oiled machine of depravity. And Sam Lane covered it up as ordered, wiped out a couple of villages to keep the mission secret"
"And you did nothing?" Diana's voice cut through the room like a blade.
"What could I do?" Mallory shot back, anger flashing in her eyes. "He was Soldier Boy. America's first superhero. Vought's golden boy. I reported it up the chain, and it got buried by Sam Lane as ordered. Every. Single. Time. The mission was too important. The optics were too valuable. So I swallowed it and kept going."
"Until?" Butcher prompted, his voice eerily calm.
"Until March 12th, 1984." Mallory's voice dropped to barely above a whisper. "We got intel that a Soviet special forces team was in the area. High-value targets. Sam's team—what was left of it after previous engagements—was tasked with providing support to Payback for the intercept."
She paused, her eyes distant, seeing something the rest of them couldn't.
"Sam's team at that point was down to three men. Three. Including Sam himself." Mallory's voice cracked slightly, as her eyes went back in time as if conjuring the all team. "The best soldiers America had. Enhanced. Deadly. But just three against god knows what the Soviets had been waiting for. Although, the brass didn't care, for them Sam and his boys not coming home was the best thing that could happen, years of black ops shit finally without any surviving loose ends. They were lose cannons but they listened to Sam and he listened to me"
"Why?" Lois asked curiosity getting the better of her a little, she always wondered what her father and Mallory's relationship was
"Largely it was respect, I had run an op with them previously and Sam trusted me" Mallory then released a heavy sigh as she looked into Lois' eyes the same ones her father had "We were also sleeping together, which I think helped. I was also pregnant. Three months. Sam didn't know. I hadn't told him yet because... because I was married. To someone else. It was complicated."
"Jesus," Lois whispered, her anger momentarily forgotten.
"The op went sideways from the start." Mallory continued, her words coming faster now, as if she needed to get them out before she lost her nerve. "The Soviets were ready for us. They had intel. They knew we were coming. And it went to shit. They also apparently had something that evened the playing field"
"BCL Red," MM stated.
"That's what they called it." Mallory's face was pale now, her hands trembling slightly. "I didn't see it. I was to busy trying to stop the friendly fire gunpowder was laying down on our men, little shit fired at our ammo truck blow the thing fucking sky high and knocked me out. Whatever BCL Red was I didn't see it. Just that the Soviets apparently deployed some kind of weapon. The Countess said it was a gas. Aerosolized. Bright red, like blood in the air. The Soviets hit Soldier Boy with it the moment he engaged."
"And?" Butcher leaned forward, his eyes gleaming.
"According to the report, he went down." Mallory's voice was hollow, although Butcher was eating up the idea, Lois saw that Mallory clearly didn't buy it fully. "Just... collapsed. Started convulsing. Screaming. The invincible bastard who'd walked through gunfire and explosions like they were nothing, and he was on the ground, choking on his own blood."
The room went silent, everyone apart from Lois, Butcher and Mallory glancing at each other. Those three just held an unblinking stare between the three of them.
"Payback tried to get to him. Crimson Countess hit the Soviets with everything she had. Black Noir went after their operatives. However, the Soviets were prepared. They had firepower, and Payback had to fall back to save lives. The Countess' words, not mine."
"What about my father's team?" Lois asked quietly.
"According to Sam." Mallory's jaw clenched. "He and his two men went in to extract Soldier Boy. But the Soviets had them pinned down. And that's when the artillery fire started —the Soviets called it end, levelled fucking everything in the area. Payback fucked right off when that happened."
"So they abandoned him," Diana snorted, not surprised. She had heard of Payback's reputation and this was on point.
"They had no choice, apparently." Mallory's voice was flat, but her eyes told a different story.
"At least that's what the after-action report said. The whole area became roasted beef jerky. Sam made it out. With one of his men. Not in the report was that Noir, bleeding from the head, jumped the injured men, tore one's spine and beat Sam nearly to death, screaming about how he deserved it. The only reason he lived was that Stan Edgar appeared and called the fucker off, thinking Sam was dead, he wasn't he came over, found me and dragged me back to camp."
"And soldier boy?" Butcher asked his eyes narrowing not missing that Mallory had left out the last detail of the events.
And Soldier Boy..." Mallory trailed off for a second before Butcher gave her a very pointed look that forced her to finish her story. "The Soviets took his body. That's what Sam told me later. That Soldier Boy was dead, and the Russians took his corpse for study."
"You never saw the body," Butcher said. It wasn't a question.
"No one did. The whole site was buried under rubble and fire. By the time reinforcements arrived, the Soviets were gone. All we found was blood. Lots of blood. Soldier Boy's blood." Mallory met his eyes. "Sam said there was no way anyone could have survived what that gas did to him. Said he watched Soldier Boy die."
"And the gas? BCL Red?" Lois pressed, her eyes fixed on Mallroy.
"Gone. The Soviets took it with them." Mallory shook her head, but just sighing as Daina pulled the rope a little tighter to make her say more. "Whatever it was, whatever made it work... we never found out. Sam's been trying to recreate it for decades. The formula. The compound. But without knowing what it was made of, how it worked..." She shrugged helplessly. "It's been a ghost chase."
"So there's no way to get it," MM said, his voice flat.
"I didn't say that." Mallory's eyes were hard. "Sam came to me six months ago, said he had intel. Russian intelligence chatter, from an old source of him, kicked up"
"That's convenient," Lois scoffed, not believing it was that simple and likely her father had either had the intel for years or made a deal to get it, one she didn't want to know about "And he failed to mention that."
"Well, that's Sam for you, never admit anything, lead people to where you want them anyway possible just without fucking saying it." Mallory chuckled darkly
"What kind of chatter?" Butcher asked sharply, ignoring the conversation the two women were having.
"References to a weapons facility. Siberia. Old Soviet black site that supposedly still has Cold War era projects archived." Mallory leaned forward as much as her restraints would allow. "Including chemical weapons used in Central America operations."
"You think BCL Red is there," Lois said.
"I think if it exists anywhere, it's there." Mallory nodded. "Sam thought so too. He sent his own agent to go to investigate."
"And?" Hughie asked, though he already knew the answer from the look on Mallory's face.
"And they disappeared three days later. Nobody. No evidence. Just gone." Mallory's voice was bitter. "So yeah, maybe there's something to it. Maybe BCL Red is sitting in a Russian vault somewhere. Or maybe it's just a fairy tale and Sam is sending people to die chasing shadows."
"We need to know," Lois said, her voice hard. "We need that weapon."
"Then you'll have to go get it yourselves." Mallory met her eyes. "Break into a Russian black site. Hope it's still there. Hope it still works after forty years. And hope you can get out alive."
"Where?" Butcher demanded.
"Sakha Republic. Northern Siberia. Middle of nowhere. The coordinates are in the file Sam sent to me six months ago. With a note to memorise and destroy," Mallory replied back her voice humorous but without a hint of finding any of this funny.
"You still have it?" MM asked.
"Of course I do. Always keep hard copies, it how I've stayed alive" Mallory's smile was bitter. "Insurance. In case someone came asking questions. And they need hard proff. You In case I needed leverage." She looked at Lois. "Which apparently I do now."
Lois stood, her decision made. "Diana, let her go."
Diana hesitated, then loosened the rope. Lois stepped forward and unlocked the handcuffs herself.
"You're going to give us everything," Lois said. It wasn't a question. "The file. The coordinates. Whatever intel you have."
"Am I?" Mallory rubbed her wrists, her eyes meeting Lois'.
"Yes. Because you want answers too." Lois' voice was quiet but firm. "Because you've been carrying this for forty years. Because you lost men in Nicaragua. Because deep down, you need to know if it was all for something or for nothing."
Mallory held her gaze for a long moment. Then she stood, moving to her desk. She unlocked a drawer and pulled out a thick folder.
"Everything I have. Coordinates. Satellite imagery. Facility layouts from the Cold War—probably outdated now. Guard rotations that are forty years old." She handed it to Butcher. "It's not much. But it's a start."
Butcher took the file, flipping through it quickly. "This'll do."
"One more thing." Mallory's voice stopped them as they turned to leave. "Please don't do this. If BCL Red is real, if you find it..." She looked at each of them in turn. "It won't end a war, it will start one, with Vought with the Supes, and even if you kill them all they'll burn the world down with them."
"Let them try," Butcher said coldly, before turning away and walking out the building.
As they filed out, Lois lingered behind. She stood in front of Mallory, studying the older woman's face.
"This daughter of yours, my sister." Lois' voice was quiet, she knew Mallory had a daughter, she knew about the grandchildren, she just never knew this side to it. "What is she like?"
Mallory's expression softened. "Smart. Funny. Kind, even after everything. She had her father's eyes." She paused. "And his stubborn streak. She didn't know the truth about Sam. About me. About any of this. She just... lived a normal life. Until someone took that from her."
"I'm sorry," Lois said. And meant it, she also guessed its why her dad had killed Lamplighter so quickly, revenge for the loss of his grandchildren.
"So am I." Mallory met her eyes. "Be careful, Lois. This crusade you're on—it'll consume you if you let it. It consumed Sam. It consumed me. Don't let it consume you too."
Lois didn't say anything but instead just turned and walked away following Butcher.
(Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean - June 22nd, 2022)
The private jet was quiet except for the hum of the engines. Butcher didn't know where Daina had got it from or their false papers to enter Russia, and in truth, he didn't care, as long as they worked. He was sat in one of the leather seats, the file Mallory had given him spread out on the table in front of him. Across from him, MM was cleaning his weapons with methodical precision. Frenchie and Kimiko were in the back, speaking in low tones. Hughie was staring out the window, his face troubled.
Butcher's phone buzzed. He glanced at it—a message from Lois.
Make me a promise. Follow this through. No matter what. Find BCL Red. Find out what really happened. Come back. So we can end this.
Butcher stared at the message for a long moment. Then he typed back:
I promise.
He hit send and pocketed the phone. Then he pulled out a small vial from his jacket—the Temp V that Sam Lane had given him. He'd been using it sparingly, only when absolutely necessary. But he could feel it calling to him. The power. The strength. The ability to fight back against the monsters. He unscrewed the cap, staring at the green liquid inside.
"You sure about that?" Huighie's voice cut through his thoughts. Butcher looked up and saw Hughie watching him, his expression unreadable.
Hughie had found out about the temp V after Mallory's when he found the man puking his guts up and almost collapsing from the withdrawal. The two were seated at the back away from everyone else, and positioned so that no one could see or hear their conversation.
"We're going up against a Russian black site, mate." Butcher's voice was casual, but his eyes were hard. "I'll take every advantage I can get."
"That shit's going to kill you," Hughie stated flatly, although his eyes lingered a bit to long on the Temp V for Butcher's liking.
"We're all dying, Huighie." Butcher smiled, but there was no humour in it. "Question is whether we take the bastards with us."
"You really think we're going to find anything?" Hughie asked as Butcher pocketed the vail for later, speaking louder so the whole team could now hear. "I mean, it's been forty years. The Cold War's over. Maybe the Russians destroyed everything."
"Or maybe they kept it," Frenchie called from the front, shrugging as he made the comment. "The Russians are not known for throwing away weapons. Especially ones that work."
"If it worked," Hughie countered. "Mallory said she never saw what BCL Red actually did. Just heard stories. For all we know, it was propaganda. Disinformation."
"Soldier Boy died," MM said quietly, his hands going tight at the words as he stared out the window. "Something killed America's first superhero. Something the Soviets had. That's not propaganda."
"We don't even know if he's really dead," Hughie argued, trying to find any hole that could slow down this insane plan. "No one ever saw a body."
"Because the Russians took it," Butcher said, his voice hard. "The commies took the corpse for study. That's the story. That's what everyone believes."
"And you believe it?" Hughie asked.
Butcher was quiet for a moment, staring at the files in front of him. Satellite images of frozen wasteland. Coordinates that led to the middle of nowhere.
"Don't matter what I believe. What matters is finding that weapon. If BCL Red can kill Soldier Boy, it can kill Homelander. That's all we need to know."
"Butcher." Kimiko's signing was sharp, demanding attention. Frenchie translated. "She wants to know what we would do if the weapon wasn't there. If the facility is empty or destroyed."
"Then we improvise," Butcher replied without looking up once from the files. "Like we always do."
"And if it's a trap?" MM asked, offering the only reasonable point Hughie had heard so far "If someone knows we're coming?"
"Then we fight our way out." Butcher's smile was cold, as he looked up the files. "Like we always do. Ain't that right boys"
(Kent Family Home - Los Angeles, California - June 23rd, 2022)
Lois pulled into the driveway, her hands still shaking slightly from the adrenaline. The interrogation of Mallory replayed in her mind—the gun, the threats, the desperate fury that had consumed her. She barely recognised herself anymore. But she'd gotten what she needed. Butcher had the intel. They had a lead on BCL Red.
It was a start.
She walked to the front door, fumbling with her keys. Her hands were steadier now, but exhaustion was setting in. She hadn't slept properly in days. Hadn't eaten. Hadn't—
The door opened before she could unlock it.
Clark stood in the doorway, and Lois felt her breath catch. He looked terrible. His eyes were red-rimmed, his face haggard. His suit was wrinkled, as if he'd been wearing it for days. But in his arms, sleeping peacefully against his chest, was Mia.
"Clark," Lois breathed, her eyes immediately going to their daughter.
"She's okay," Clark said quietly. "She's safe."
Lois reached out, her hands trembling as she touched Mia's soft hair. The baby stirred but didn't wake. "When did you—how—"
"A few hours ago." Clark stepped back, letting Lois enter. He moved carefully, as if afraid any sudden movement might shatter something. "I went to see Kara as you know, turns out Stan Edgar is a Kryptonian. His real name is Dru-Zod, he's been on earth for over a century and he had her, had Homelander take her and he….. gave her back."
"Stan Edgar IS A WHAT?!" Lois closed the door behind her, her mind racing as she just looked at Clark. "He just... gave her back?"
"Yes he is, and yes, he just gave her back." Clark's voice was hollow. He moved to the living room, still holding Mia close, as if letting go of her would cause her to vanish. "Lois, we need to talk."
Something in his tone made Lois' stomach clench. She followed him into the living room, watching as he gently laid Mia in her portable bassinet. The baby sighed in her sleep but remained peaceful, unaware of the storm surrounding her.
"What happened?" Lois asked, her voice trembling, "Where is Ryan?".
Clark sat heavily on the couch, his head in his hands. When he looked up, there were tears in his eyes. He gave her a brief overview of the events that had happened, Stan Edgar's revealing himself, Homelander's arrival, and the images of Krypton that he had been shown, without answering her before releasing a sigh.
"Stan Ed- Zod made me an offer, Ryan as well. A... choice. Ryan took it, says he doesn't….doesn't believe in people anymore, not since his mom…." Clark's voice cracked as he stared at his daughter asleep soundly next to them, getting to Lois's question. "Zod said humanity has proven itself unworthy. That they aren't worth saving, and we should just leave. That I being here was a mistake, that we were meant to stay for a couple of days at most, then leave."
"Clark—"
"He wants to build a new Krypton. Far away on a distant world." Clark's words came faster now, as if he needed to get them out before he lost his nerve. "He said humans are nothing in the grand scheme of things. That Kryptonians are needed. The Kryptonians need to lead. To guide. To save the whole universe."
"So what, he just wants to leave," Lois said, her voice sharp. "And what about the Supes, about all the mess Vought created he created"
"He says it was all humanity doing, he never made them make supes, or make them into celebrities or any of it. That's when we leave humanity will have to clean up its own mess." Clark looked at her, and the doubt in his eyes terrified her. "He says humanity was destroying before us, and nothing can be done. Wars. Climate change. Corruption. It's in humanity's nature to destroy itself..."
"Clark. You know that's not true." Lois moved closer, kneeling in front of him. "You know that people are better than that. You've always known that."
"Have I? Or have I been fooling myself?" Clark's voice was barely a whisper, his eyes lingering on their daughter. "Lois, humanity was given incredible powers, powers that could change the world to create Superheroes. Yes, Fredrick Vought was a monster, but he's been dead for decades, and thousands have worked for Vought. What did anyone do with it after him? They made movies, milkshake bars, TV ads, whilst the world burned around them."
"Clark—" Lois felt cold as Clark slumped in his seat, his hand going to his forehead, and for the first time ever, he just looked tired.
"I had Kelex run scenarios, you know, about what would happen if I fought Homelander, about how I could help solve the issues facing us, about preventing a Supe takeover or something like it, and you know what the results were." Clark tensed as his eyes drifted to his wife, who had placed her hands on his knees, getting him to look at her. "Even in the best case scenario, millions died, widespread fear, and I would have to seize control, force the solutions on people. I always rejected that because I believe that people are good, that they want to be better."
"So what are you saying? You're going to what? Conquer Earth to save it?" Lois felt her heartbreak as she looked at Clark who for the first time ever was showing a level of doubt she didn't think he was capable of.
"I'm not going to conqueror anyone, all I ever wanted was to help." But even as Clark said the words, they sounded hollow, as if the part of him that believed that was flickering out like a candle in the wind. "Zod offered me a place. A role. He said I could help guide our people back to greatness. Away from the earth, away from humanity, have the world I dream of, peace, justice and truth for all"
"And you believe him?" Lois demanded.
"I don't know what to believe anymore!" Clark's powers flared for just a moment—heat vision flickering in his eyes before he forced it down. "I don't know who the monsters are anymore, Lois. Is it Homelander? Or is it the humans who created him? Is it Zod? Or is it humanity that creates a world that just doesn't care anymore? Is it me? For thinking that maybe Zod has a point? That…that the world isn't worth saving"
"It's not you," Lois said firmly, grabbing his face, forcing him to look at her. "Clark Kent, you are not a monster. You're the best man I know. Human, Kryptonian, or otherwise."
"Then why does it feel like I'm losing?" His voice broke completely, and suddenly, he wasn't Superman anymore. He was just a man who'd lost his mother. Who'd lost the boy who had become his son. Who was watching everything he believed in crumble around him? "Why does it feel like no matter what I do, no matter how many people I save, the choices I make. It's never enough?"
"Because you're trying to save everyone," Lois said softly, her hand going to his. "And you can't. No one can."
"Zod can." Clark pulled away from her a little, his eyes staring off into the distance. "That's what he says. That with Kryptonian guidance, with our power, we could end war. End famine. End suffering. All of it."
"Just not here," Lois said, her anger flaring up a little as she looked at her husband
"He says that unless I am willing to do what was necessary. There was no point; humanity is not worth saving."
"And what do you think is necessary?" Lois's voice was quiet, dangerous. She stood up, putting distance between them. "What does Zod want you to do, Clark?"
"He wants me to join him. To help rebuild Krypton somewhere else." Clark's eyes finally met hers. "He says the survivors in the Phantom Zone—my mother, Kara's parents, hundreds of others—they're waiting. We could save them. Build something better."
"And Earth?" Lois asked, though she already knew the answer.
"Earth..." Clark trailed off, looking at Mia sleeping peacefully. "Zod says it will sort itself out. Or it won't. Either way, it's not our responsibility."
"Not your responsibility." Lois repeated the words slowly, as if testing their weight. "Clark, do you hear yourself? Since when is helping people only your responsibility when it's convenient?"
"It's not about convenience!" Clark stood abruptly, his frustration boiling over. "It's about effectiveness, Lois! I've been here for decades. I've saved thousands of people. And what's changed? Vought still runs everything. Supes are still out of control. The world is still burning. Maybe Zod is right. Maybe I'm just putting bandaids on a hemorrhage."
"So you run away." Lois's voice was flat. "You take Ryan, take Mia, and you run away to play god on some other planet."
"I haven't decided anything," Clark said, but the words sounded weak even to his own ears.
"Haven't you?" Lois moved to the bassinet, looking down at their daughter. "Clark, I need you to listen to me. Really listen. Not with your super hearing or your x-ray vision or any of that. Just... listen with your heart."
She turned to face him, and there were tears in her eyes.
"Do you remember what you told me when we first met? When I asked you why you did this—why you put on the suit and saved people?" She didn't wait for him to answer. "You said it was because you could. Because you had the power to help, and that meant you had the responsibility to try. Not to succeed. Not to fix everything. Just to try."
"Maybe I was naive," Clark whispered.
"Maybe you were human," Lois shot back. "The best parts of you, Clark, have always been the parts that Martha and Jonathan gave you. The parts that choose to help even when it's hard. Even when it fails. Even when it hurts."
She moved closer to him, her voice softening. "You want to know why it feels like you're losing? Because you're measuring success by an impossible standard. You can't save everyone. You can't fix everything. But that doesn't mean you should save no one and fix nothing."
"Zod showed me Krypton," Clark said quietly. "Showed me what we lost. A civilization that could have changed the universe. And it's gone because people—beings far more advanced than humans—couldn't see the danger in front of them until it was too late."
"And you think Earth is the same," Lois said. It wasn't a question.
"I think... I think maybe some things can't be saved." The admission seemed to cost him everything. "Maybe some worlds are meant to fall."
"No." Lois's voice was steel. "No, Clark. I won't let you do this. I won't let you give up on us."
"I'm not giving up—"
"YES, YOU ARE!" Lois exploded. "You're looking for permission to walk away! You want Zod to be right so you don't have to feel guilty about abandoning the world that raised you!"
The words hung in the air between them. Clark stared at her, and for a moment, something like anger flashed in his eyes. Then it was gone, replaced by bone-deep weariness.
"What do you want me to do, Lois?" His voice was barely audible. "Tell me. Because I don't know anymore."
Lois took a shaking breath. She looked at Mia, then back at Clark. When she spoke, her voice was steady.
"I want you to remember who you are. Not Kal-El of Krypton. Not Superman. Clark Kent. The boy who grew up in Smallville. Who learned right from wrong from two farmers who loved him. Who chose to use his gifts to help people, even when it was thankless. Even when it hurt."
She stepped closer, taking his hands. "I want you to look at our daughter and remember that she's both Kryptonian and human. That she deserves a world worth growing up in. And I want you to trust that humanity—messy, flawed, broken humanity—is still worth fighting for."
"And if I can't?" Clark's voice cracked. "What if I can't believe that anymore?"
Lois was quiet for a long moment. She looked at him—really looked at him—and saw the man she'd fallen in love with drowning in doubt and grief. The weight of two worlds crushing him. And she made a decision.
"Then you need to take some time," Lois said finally, her voice carefully controlled. "Go to the Fortress. Meditate. Do whatever it is you do when you need to think. But Clark..." She moved to him, placing both hands on his chest, right over the symbol he wasn't wearing. "Don't make any decisions about Zod's offer until you've given yourself time to heal. Your mother and father have died. You lost Ryan. That's not the state of mind to make a choice that affects the entire world."
Clark looked down at her hands, then met her eyes. "And what will you do?"
"Me?" Lois forced a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'll be here. With Mia. Keeping things together. Like I always do."
"Lois—"
"I mean it, Clark." Her voice was firm. "Take the time you need. I'm not going anywhere. Neither is she." She glanced at Mia. "We'll be here when you figure out who you are and what you believe in."
Clark pulled her into an embrace, holding her tight. "I love you," he whispered. "I love you both so much."
"I know," Lois said into his chest. She closed her eyes, memorising the feel of him, the warmth of him. "I love you too."
They stood like that for several minutes, neither wanting to let go. Finally, Clark pulled back. He looked at her, searching her face for something.
"You'll call me if anything happens?" He asked, as he looked into her eyes trying to see the hope Lois was telling him wass there. "If you need me?"
"Of course," Lois lied. The word tasted like ash in her mouth.
Clark nodded slowly. He moved to the bassinet, leaning down to kiss Mia's forehead. The baby stirred, making a small sound, but didn't wake.
"I'll go to the Fortress," He said quietly, turing to look at Lois. "Just for a few days. To clear my head."
"Take as long as you need," Lois replied, even as her heart screamed at her to tell him everything. To tell him about Butcher heading to Russia. About BCL Red. About the choice she'd already made.
But she didn't. Because if she told him, he would stop them. And if he stopped them, Homelander would still be out there, a loaded gun pointed at the world. At their daughter. And Clark—doubt-ridden, grief-stricken Clark—might not be strong enough to pull the trigger when the time came.
Or worse, Zod might convince him not to and to just leave the earth.
So Lois kept her silence. She watched as Clark moved to the door, pausing on the threshold.
"Lois?"
"Yes?"
"Thank you," he said. "For not giving up on me. Even when I'm giving up on myself."
The words were a knife in her chest. "Never," she managed. "I'll never give up on you, Clark."
He gave her a sad smile, then was gone—a blur of motion and the whisper of displaced air. Lois stood in the empty doorway, staring at the space where he'd been.
She counted to thirty. Then she pulled out her phone and typed a message to Butcher: He's clear. He's gone to the Fortress. You have a window. Find BCL Red. End this. She hit send before she could second-guess herself. Before the guilt could eat her alive. She looked at Mia, still sleeping peacefully, unaware of the terrible choices her parents were making in the name of protecting her.
"I'm sorry," Lois whispered—to her daughter, to Clark, to herself. "I'm so sorry. But this is the only way."
She stood there for a long moment, phone in hand, staring at the screen. Then she scrolled through her contacts and stopped at a name she'd sworn she wouldn't call. Not after everything. Not after learning the truth. But desperate times. She hit dial. It rang three times before he picked up.
"Lois." Her father's voice was neutral, unsurprised. As if he'd been expecting this call. "I take it your husband is occupied?"
"How did you—" She stopped herself. Of course, he knew. Sam Lane always knew. "I need your word that Butcher will come back alive. That they all will."
"I can't promise that." His voice was matter-of-fact. "They're walking into a Russian black site in the middle of Siberia. Variables I can't control."
"Then control the ones you can," Lois said sharply. "You sent them there. You orchestrated this. So you make sure they come back."
There was a pause.
"And if they do? If they find BCL Red? What then, Lois? You prepared for what comes next?" Sam Lane's voice was flat and emotionless as ever, she could hear the gears in his head turning.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean," Her father's voice dropped lower, "That even if Homelander falls, there are still hundreds of supes out there. Thousands, potentially, if Vought keeps producing V. You think one weapon is going to be enough?"
Lois felt cold. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I've been preparing for this scenario for a very long time. Multiple contingencies. Projects that go beyond just stopping Homelander." He paused. "One in particular. Been in development for years. Shetty's running point on it."
"Shetty?" Lois searched her memory. "The Dean of Godolkin University. What does she have to do with—"
"Let's just say that if worst comes to worst, if your husband can't do what is necessary, if the supes decide to take control..." Her father's voice was eerily calm. "We'll have options. Final options."
Lois's blood ran cold. "Dad, what did you do?"
"What I always do. What's necessary." Sam Lane paused, that in itself caused Lois' heart to stop her dad never forze. "You should get some rest, Lois. It's been a long day. We'll talk more when there's something concrete to discuss."
"Dad—"
"Oh, and Lois? The Martha Kent Foundation. You might want to review the financials. See where the money's actually going."
The line went dead. Lois stared at her phone, her father's words echoing in her head. Final options. She looked at Mia, sleeping peacefully in her bassinet, then at the space where Clark had been.
What had she set in motion? What had her father been planning all along? And why did she have the terrible feeling that saving the world was going to cost more than she'd ever imagined?
She moved to the window, looking out at the Los Angeles night. Somewhere out there, Butcher was flying toward Russia and a weapon that could kill gods. Somewhere above, Clark was wrestling with whether humanity deserved saving. And somewhere in the shadows, her father was playing a game she was only now beginning to understand.
Lois closed her eyes and whispered into the darkness:
"God help us all."
(Vought Tower - New York, New York - June 23rd, 2022)
Homelander stood at the window of his penthouse, staring out at the city below. His city. His world.
Except it wasn't. Not anymore.
He'd thought he was a god. Thought he was the pinnacle of evolution. The perfect being. But he wasn't. He was a copy. A cheap knockoff. A human playing dress-up in powers that weren't even originally his.
That's what Zod had called him. What Kara had agreed with, even if she'd tried to hide it behind false sympathy. He wasn't Kryptonian. Not really. He was human. Just a human who'd been injected with someone else's stolen greatness.
And that knowledge burned.
Homelander had spent his entire life being told he was special. That he was unique. That there was no one like him in the entire world. But it was all a lie. He wasn't unique. He was a knockoff. A forgery. A photocopy of something greater that came before.
The real Kryptonians—Zod, Kara, Clark, even that brat Ryan—they were born with their powers. It was in their blood. In their very DNA. They were genuinely superior beings.
But him? He was just a lab experiment. An embryo pumped full of stolen Kryptonian genes and raised in isolation until he didn't remember how to be human anymore.
And the worst part? They pitied him.
Zod had looked at him with contempt, yes. But also with pity. Like Homelander was a stray dog that had learned a few tricks. Impressive for a dog, perhaps. But still just a dog.
Kara had been worse. She'd tried to be kind. Tried to act like they were the same. But he'd seen it in her eyes—that same pity. That same awareness that she was real and he was just... a copy.
Even Clark, pathetic, weak, "I love humanity" Clark—even he had something Homelander didn't. He'd been born on Krypton. He'd known his parents. He had a heritage. A culture. A legacy.
What did Homelander have? A laboratory. A fake name. A corporation that built him to make money.
He was a product. Property. An imitation.
Homelander's fist clenched, and the glass in his hand shattered. He didn't notice the blood on his palm. Didn't care.
He thought about Madelyn. About how she'd lied to him. Told him he was special when she knew the truth. Knew he was nothing but Vought's experiment.
He thought about Vought itself. About Stan Edgar and all the others who'd known what he really was and never told him. They'd built a god to make money. But they'd done it wrong. Used stolen material. Cut corners. Made him powerful, yes, but flawed. Incomplete.
Less than.
His comm device buzzed. He ignored it. Probably Ashley with some nonsense about his approval ratings or sponsorship deals. Like any of that mattered anymore.
The truth was out now. The real Kryptonians were here. And compared to them, he was nothing. Just a lab rat with delusions of grandeur.
He moved away from the window, his eyes catching on his reflection in the glass. The suit. The cape. The carefully styled hair. All of it an act. A performance designed to make humans feel safe around their manufactured god.
But what was the point now?
The humans knew the truth. They'd seen a real Kryptonian. Seen what he could be if he were actually one of them instead of just a cheap imitation. They had Clark Kent, Superman, the perfect hero.
And now they had Kara. Power Girl. Another genuine article. Beautiful, powerful, and actually Kryptonian.
What did they need him for?
The comm buzzed again. This time he grabbed it and hurled it at the wall, where it shattered into pieces. The sound was satisfying. Destructive. Real.
He wanted to destroy something. Wanted to burn it all down. Show them that even if he was a copy, he was still dangerous. Still powerful. Still—
The elevator dinged.
Homelander spun around, eyes already glowing red. If someone dared to interrupt him right now—
The doors opened, and Ashley Barrett stepped out, tablet clutched to her chest like a shield. Her face was pale, her eyes wide with barely contained terror. She saw him standing there, blood dripping from his palm, the body of the assistant she had sent earlier to deliver him his talking points was in pieces on the floor, next to Homelanders shattered comm device scattered across the floor, and she froze.
"I—I'm sorry," she stammered, already backing toward the elevator. "I didn't mean to—the comm wasn't working and I thought—I'll just—"
"Stop." Homelander's voice was quiet. Controlled.
Ashley froze mid-step, one hand reaching back toward the elevator button. She was shaking. Literally trembling with fear.
And something in Homelander's chest loosened.
He took a step toward her. She flinched. Her breathing became rapid, shallow. The tablet in her hands was shaking so badly he could hear it rattling.
"You're afraid of me," he said. It wasn't a question.
"N-no, I just—" Ashley tried to smile, that fake corporate smile she always wore. But it crumbled almost immediately. "Please, I—"
"You should be." Homelander took another step. Ashley pressed herself against the elevator wall. "Do you know what I could do to you? What I've done to others?"
"Homelander, please—" Her voice cracked.
He stopped, just a few feet away from her. Close enough that she had to crane her neck to look up at him. Close enough that he could hear her heart hammering in her chest. See the sweat beading on her forehead. Smell the fear radiating off her in waves.
And it felt good.
Not like with Zod. Not like with Kara. Not like with Clark. They'd looked at him with pity, with disappointment, with that knowing awareness that he was less than them.
But Ashley? Ashley looked at him like he was a god. A terrible, wrathful god. But a god nonetheless.
"What did you need?" he asked, his voice almost gentle now.
Ashley swallowed hard. Her hands were still shaking, but she managed to look at her tablet. "Your—your approval ratings. They're down another five points. The board wants to discuss—"
"I don't care about the board." Homelander moved closer, until he was directly in front of her. Until she had nowhere to look but up at him. "Do you know what I learned today, Ashley?"
She shook her head, not trusting her voice.
"I learned that I'm not special. That everything I am was stolen from someone else. That I'm just a human pretending to be something more." His eyes bored into hers. "Do you think I'm human, Ashley?"
"I—I don't—" She was crying now. Tears were streaming down her face. "Please, I don't know what you want me to say—"
"Say what you really think." He leaned in closer, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Tell me the truth. Am I human? Or am I a god?"
Ashley's mouth opened and closed several times. Her entire body was shaking now. She looked like she might pass out.
"You're—" she gasped out, "you're Homelander. You're the—the greatest hero in the world. You're—"
"I'm a god," he finished for her. "Say it."
"You're a god," Ashley whispered. "You're a god."
Homelander smiled. It was not a kind smile.
"Yes," he said. "Yes, I am. And do you know what gods do to the things that displease them?"
Ashley's legs gave out. She slid down the elevator wall, clutching her tablet like it might protect her. "Please," she sobbed. "Please don't—"
Homelander stared down at her for a long moment. This pathetic, terrified human. This insect. This nothing.
But she feared him. Truly feared him. Not with pity. Not with contempt. With pure, primal terror.
And that... that was something.
"Get out," he said finally.
Ashley didn't need to be told twice. She scrambled to her feet, hit the elevator button with shaking hands, and practically fell through the doors when they opened. The last thing Homelander saw was her tear-stained face, eyes wide with terror, as the doors closed.
He stood there, alone again. But this time, something had changed.
Maybe Zod was right. Maybe he wasn't Kryptonian. Maybe he was just human with stolen powers. A failed experiment. A copycat.
But he was still the most powerful human on the planet. He was still dangerous. Still feared.
And if he couldn't be a real god, he could at least make sure everyone treated him like one.
He moved back to the window, looking out at the city. His city. Not because he'd earned it. Not because he deserved it. But because he was strong enough to take it. Strong enough to hold it.
Strong enough to burn it down if anyone tried to take it from him.
Kara could have her Kryptonian heritage. Clark could have his perfect morality. Zod could have his grand mission. Ryan could have whatever future they built for him.
But this? This world? These people?
They were his.
And he'd make damn sure they remembered it.
A smile slowly spread across Homelander's face. Not the practised, camera-ready smile he showed the public. Something darker. Something honest. He might be a fake Kryptonian. But he was a real monster.
NO, a god, and they didn't need anyone's approval to exist.
They just needed people to fear them.
And fear? Fear he had in abundance.
(Vought Tower - Stan Edgar's Office - June 24th, 2022)
The office was dark, lit only by the glow of the New York skyline through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Kara stood at attention, her hands clasped behind her back in the military posture that had been drilled into her since childhood. Across from her, Zod—still wearing Stan Edgar's face—sat at his desk, reviewing something on a holographic display only he could see.
"Kon-El has agreed to continue his training," Zod said without looking up. "He's responding well to the Kryptonian education protocols. Another month, and he'll be fluent in our language. Six months, and he'll understand our culture as if he'd been raised on Krypton itself."
"That's... good," Kara said, though something in her voice was uncertain.
Zod finally looked up, his dark eyes sharp. "You don't sound convinced."
"No, sir, I am. It's just..." Kara shifted slightly. "He's so young. And he's lost so much. His mother, his home, everything he knew. I worry we're moving too fast."
"He's adapting because he wants to adapt," Zod replied, his voice firm. "The boy sees what humanity is. What it does to those who are different. He understands that this world has nothing to offer him but fear and hatred. Better he learns our ways now, while he's still malleable."
Kara nodded, but the uncertainty didn't leave her eyes. "And Kal-El?"
"Is wrestling with his doubts. As expected." Zod leaned back in his chair, a small smile playing at his lips. "He'll come around. It may take time, but he will."
"You seem very certain of that."
"Because I am." Zod stood, moving to the window. He looked out at the city with an expression that might have been contempt or pity—or both. "Kal-El is idealistic. He believes in humanity because he was raised by two kind humans who sheltered him from the worst of their species. But that shelter is crumbling. His mother is dead. The boy he tried to save has chosen us over him. And soon..." His smile widened slightly. "Soon, the people he trusts most will disappoint him in ways he never imagined possible."
Kara frowned. "What do you mean?"
"Nothing you need concern yourself with." Zod turned back to her. "The point is, Kal-El will join us. Whether it takes a year, a decade, or another century. I have time. I've waited this long. I can wait longer."
"Another century?" Kara's eyes widened. "Sir, you can't mean—"
"Why not?" Zod's voice was calm, reasonable. "We're effectively immortal, Kara. This yellow sun sustains us indefinitely. What's a hundred years to beings like us? A blink. Nothing." He moved closer to her. "Humans age. Humans die. Humans disappoint. All we need to do is wait, and eventually, everyone Kal-El loves will either betray him or leave him. And when that happens, when he has nothing left to anchor him to this world, he'll understand what I've known all along."
"Which is?"
"That we don't belong here. That we never did." Zod placed a hand on her shoulder. "You've seen it yourself. The mission took you across the galaxy. You saw the chaos that Krypton's destruction created. Wars. Genocides. Entire civilisations collapsing without our guidance. The universe needs us, Kara. Not just to rebuild our own civilization, but to be what we always were—the peacekeepers. The protectors. The righteous force that maintains order."
Kara was quiet for a moment. Then: "What about him?"
Zod's hand dropped from her shoulder. "Him?"
"Homelander." Kara's voice was soft. "John. Whatever he calls himself. He's... he's my son, isn't he? Genetically speaking. My... my descendant."
"He is an abomination." Zod's voice was flat, hard. "A human experiment that happened to succeed beyond its creators' intentions. Nothing more."
"But Uncle, he exists because of—"
"Because of Vogelbaum's hubris. Because of Stormfront's obsession. Because humans couldn't help but steal what wasn't theirs and pervert it into something monstrous." Zod turned away from her. "He is not your responsibility, Kara. He is not your son. He is a mistake that should have been corrected decades ago."
"But I feel..." Kara struggled for the words. "When I look at him, I feel the connection. The same one I feel with Kal-El. With Kon-El. It's faint, but it's there. He's family. Isn't he?"
"No." Zod's voice was final. "Family is earned through honor, through shared values, through the bonds of our culture and our people. That... thing shares none of that. He has some of your genetic material, yes. But so does every sample Vought took from you over the decades. Would you claim every vial of blood they drew as your child?"
"That's not the same—"
"It's exactly the same." Zod turned back to her, his expression stern. "Kara, I understand this is difficult. I understand you have a compassionate heart. It's one of your greatest strengths. But it's also a weakness that humans will exploit if you let them." He moved closer. "Homelander is damaged beyond repair. He was raised in isolation, taught that his power made him superior, given no moral framework, no culture, no guidance. He's a sociopath with godlike abilities. The kindest thing we could do would be to end him before he causes more damage."
"You can't mean—"
"I don't intend to kill him," Zod said quickly. "Not unless he becomes a threat. But I will not waste resources trying to rehabilitate him, either. He's humanity's problem. Let them deal with their own mistakes."
Kara looked down at her hands. "It just seems... wrong. To abandon him. He didn't ask to be created this way."
"None of us asked for the circumstances of our birth." Zod's voice softened slightly. "But we all must live with the consequences. Homelander was created by humans, for human purposes. He is, in every way that matters, one of them. Let him find his place among his own kind."
"And if he can't? If he destroys himself, or them?"
"Then that's humanity's problem to solve." Zod returned to his desk. "We have more important concerns. The ship's construction is nearly complete. The zone projector is functional. All that remains is gathering the resources we need for the journey and convincing Kal-El to join us."
"You said you were planting... breadcrumbs?" Kara's eyes narrowed slightly. "What does that mean?"
Zod smiled, but it didn't reach his eyes. "It means I've ensured that the people closest to Kal-El will make choices that will shatter his faith in humanity. Not through any direct action of mine, you understand. I'm simply... allowing human nature to take its course."
"What have you done?" Kara's voice took on an edge. "Sir, what have you done?"
"Nothing illegal. Nothing immoral by human standards." Zod pulled up a file on his desk. "I've simply provided certain individuals with resources they requested. Funding for projects they believed were necessary. Information they needed to pursue their goals. I haven't forced anyone to do anything they didn't already want to do."
"What kind of projects?"
"The kind that desperate people undertake when they feel powerless against beings like us." Zod closed the file. "Tell me, Kara. What do you think happens when humans who hate and fear supes are given the means to fight back? When people who love Kal-El decide they need insurance against him, just in case?"
Kara's eyes widened. "No. You didn't—"
"I did nothing," Zod said calmly. "Sam Lane came to me years ago, desperate for a way to defend humanity against superpowered threats. I provided funding through shell companies. Resources through black market channels. Nothing that couldn't be traced back to legitimate, if morally questionable, sources. And Dr. Shetty? She's been working on her virus for years, convinced that supes are an existential threat to baseline humanity. I simply ensured she had the funding to continue her research."
"A virus?" Kara felt sick. "You're helping them create a weapon to kill supes?"
"I'm allowing humans to be themselves," Zod corrected. "Fear, paranoia, tribalism—these are their defining characteristics. Given power, they abuse it. Given knowledge, they weaponise it. Given time, they always disappoint." He looked at her with something almost like sympathy. "And when Kal-El discovers that the people he trusted most—his father-in-law, his allies, the very foundation his aunt created in honour of his adopted mother—have been working on ways to neutralise him, to kill him if necessary... when he learns that humanity's survival instinct outweighs any love they claim to have for him..."
"He'll lose faith," Kara whispered.
"He'll see the truth." Zod stood. "That humans cannot help but fear what they cannot control. That they will always seek to destroy what they cannot dominate. That their love is conditional, transactional, and ultimately worthless."
"You're manipulating him. You're—"
"I'm teaching him," Zod said firmly. "The same lesson I learned over a century ago. That this world is not our home. That these people are not our family. That our duty is to our own kind, not to a species that would turn on us the moment we stopped being useful."
Kara stood silent for a long moment. Then: "And if you're wrong? If Kal-El chooses them anyway?"
"Then he'll die here. Alone. Betrayed by the very people he sacrificed everything to protect." Zod's voice was cold. "And perhaps, in his final moments, he'll realise I was right all along."
"That's cruel."
"That's reality." Zod moved to the window again. "I've lived among humans for 118 years, Kara. I've seen them at their best and their worst. I've watched them build wonders and commit atrocities. I've given them every opportunity to prove me wrong about their nature."
"And?"
"They never do." He looked back at her. "Oh, there are exceptions. Individuals who rise above their baser instincts. But as a species? They're predictable. Violent. Self-destructive. And no matter how many of them Kal-El saves, eventually, they'll turn on him. Because that's what humans do to anyone who makes them feel inferior."
Kara wanted to argue. Wanted to defend humanity, to insist that Kal-El's faith in them meant something. But she'd seen the galaxy. Seen what happened when civilisations lost their way. Seen the wars, the genocides, the chaos.
And she'd seen how humans treated those who were different. How they'd treated the man they called Homelander. How they'd treat her, if they ever saw her as a threat instead of a symbol.
"How long?" she asked quietly. "How long until the ship is ready?"
"Six months. Perhaps less if we push the timeline." Zod turned back to face her. "And Kal-El has all that time to make his choice. I'm not rushing him. I'm not forcing him. I'm simply letting him see the truth."
"And Homelander?"
"Is no longer our concern." Zod's voice was final. "Focus on Kon-El. Focus on the mission. Everything else is just... noise."
Kara nodded slowly. But as she left the office, she couldn't shake the image of Homelander's face. That desperate, broken look when Zod had called him an abomination. That need for connection, for family, for someone to tell him he mattered.
She'd seen that look before. On the faces of young recruits who'd been told they weren't good enough. Criminals who'd been written off by society. People who'd been broken by the world and had nothing left but anger and pain.
Zod was right about many things. But on this... maybe, just maybe, he was wrong.
But what could she do about it?
She was a soldier. Soldiers followed orders.
Even when those orders left someone behind.