Chapter 30 - Fractured Alliance(Safe House - Long Island, New York - June 27th, 2022)
Diana stared at the ceiling, counting the cracks. Thirty-seven. She'd counted them twelve times now, because it was the only thing she could do that didn't require the strength she no longer had.
Her phone buzzed on the table beside her cot. She reached for it, her hand shaking with the effort. The screen lit up with notifications—news alerts, all screaming the same story in different words:
SUPER DUPER MASSACRE IN HELL'S KITCHEN
THREE HEROES DEAD IN MYSTERIOUS ATTACK
LADYFOLD, BOBBY BADOING, AND THE BLACK HOLE KILLED
Diana's hand clenched around the phone. The screen cracked under the pressure—not from superhuman strength, but from the desperate, futile rage of someone who had nothing left but grief.
"Merde," Frenchie looked up from where he sat with Kimiko. "Diana, your hand—"
"I don't care about my fucking hand!" Diana's voice cracked. She tried to sit up, managed to get halfway before her arms gave out. She collapsed back onto the cot, tears streaming down her face. "Joy. Bobby. James. They're dead. They're dead and I'm lying here like a useless—"
"You're hurt," Hughie said quietly from his corner. Krypto was curled in his lap, occasionally floating a few inches before settling back down. The dog seemed to sense the tension in the room, pressing closer to Hughie as if for comfort.
"I'm nothing," Diana spat. "Without my powers, I'm just... I'm just an old woman who can't even lift a water bottle. And my kids—" Her voice broke completely. "I was supposed to protect them. That was the whole point. Keep them safe. Give them a better life than I had. And now three of them are dead because I wasn't there."
She grabbed the cracked phone again, scrolling through the articles with shaking hands. Each one had photos. Joy's bright smile at a charity event. Bobby bouncing around at a kids' hospital visit. James using his powers to help clean up after a hurricane.
They'd been good kids. Trying to do good. And they'd died screaming.
"I should have been there!" Diana's scream was raw, primal. "I should have been protecting them! Not chasing some ghost in Siberia! Not looking for a weapon that turned out to be a walking fucking nightmare! I trained them! I taught them how to fight, how to use their powers, how to be heroes! And for what? So they could die in some random attack by a man I helped release. I helped kill them. I helped release the monster that murdered my kids."
"Diana—" Hughie started.
"Don't." Diana closed her eyes. "Just... don't."
She lay there for a long moment, tears streaming silently down her face. When she spoke again, her voice was barely a whisper. Her voice cracked as she stared at the ceiling; however Hughie could tell she wasn't seeing the ceiling but her wards as she spoke.
"I can see them, you know. When I close my eyes. Joy crying when she died. Her mascara running. She always wore too much mascara. I kept telling her to go lighter, but she said it made her feel pretty. Bobby dying trying to protect her. They found his body covering hers. He'd bounced into Soldier Boy's beam. Just bounced right into it, like he thought his powers would save him."
"Diana, please—" Frenchie's voice was gentle.
"And James," Diana continued as if he hadn't spoken. "James would have tried to absorb the radiation. Thought he could stop it. Put himself in its path and save everyone. And It tore him apart from the inside out. The coroner's report said he was barely recognisable."
Hughie felt sick. "How do you know all that?"
"Because I called in favours," Diana replied, she turned her head to look at them. "Made people tell me everything. Every detail. Every horrific, awful detail of how my kids died. You know what the worst part is? They died believing they were doing the right thing. Believing they were heroes. And they were. They were heroes. Better than me. Better than any of us."
Kimiko signed something, her hands shaking from the effort and pain.
"She says they would be proud to have had you as a teacher," Frenchie translated, his own voice thick with emotion.
"Then they were idiots," Diana said bitterly. "Because I failed them. Just like I've failed everyone who ever believed in me."
MM's phone buzzed, breaking the oppressive silence. He pulled it out, read the message, and frowned. "Butcher wants to meet. Says he's got a lead on tracking Soldier Boy down."
"Where?" Hughie asked, grateful for something—anything—to break the suffocating atmosphere.
"Some dive bar in Queens." MM looked at Diana and Kimiko. "You two gonna be okay here?"
"Do we have a choice?" Diana asked bitterly.
Frenchie squeezed Kimiko's hand gently. She winced at even that light touch, and he immediately loosened his grip. "I will stay with them. Someone needs to be here."
"Thank you," MM said. He looked at Diana for a long moment. "We'll make this right. I promise."
Diana didn't respond. She just closed her eyes and went back to counting cracks in the ceiling.
As MM and Hughie left, Frenchie heard her whisper: "Thirty-eight. There are thirty-eight cracks. I miscounted before."
(League Headquarters - Los Angeles, California - Same Time)
Clark sat in the empty conference room, staring at the news footage on the massive screen. Hell's Kitchen. The destroyed building. The three bodies they'd found in the rubble. He'd watched the footage a dozen times now, analysing every frame, trying to understand what had happened.
The apartment building had been completely obliterated. Not collapsed—obliterated. As if something had simply erased it from existence. The surrounding buildings showed scorch marks and radiation burns. And in the centre of it all, three young heroes had died.
Annie limped in, supported by Alex. Both looked sick—faces pale, dark circles under their eyes. Annie's usually vibrant blonde hair looked dull, lifeless. Alex moved like every step hurt, one hand pressed against his ribs.
"You should be in the hospital," Clark said, not looking up from the screen.
"Tried that," Annie replied, carefully lowering herself into a chair. Every movement was deliberate, calculated. "They ran every test they could think of. Blood work, X-rays, MRIs, even brought in specialists from Johns Hopkins. Can't figure out what's wrong with us."
"Radiation poisoning," Clark said quietly, as he looked at another screen that was detailing the coroner's report on Joy's body. "From Soldier Boy. I felt it too when I fought him. It's not like anything I've encountered before."
"But you're recovering," Alex observed. He sat down heavily, wincing. "We're... not. Not as fast, anyway. Every day I feel a little worse. A little weaker."
Clark finally looked at them. They looked even worse in person than he'd thought. Annie's skin had a greyish tinge, and there were fine lines around her eyes that hadn't been there a week ago. Alex's normally olive skin looked ashen, and his hands trembled slightly when he wasn't concentrating on keeping them still.
But when Annie's hands moved, they sparked with light. Dimmer than usual, flickering like a dying bulb, but still there. When Alex spoke, there was still that subtle sonic resonance in his voice that made people instinctively lean in to listen.
"Your powers are still there," Clark said, his eyes refocusing as he scanned her and Alex and what he saw wasn't overly negative but it wasn't great.
"Yeah," Annie confirmed. She held up her hand, and light flickered weakly across her palm. "Just... everything takes more effort now. Like I'm running on half power. Quarter power, maybe. Using my abilities makes me feel worse, like it's burning through whatever reserves I have left."
"Same," Alex added. He spoke carefully, his voice barely above a whisper. "I tried using my sonic scream yesterday in a controlled test. Managed about three seconds before I passed out. Took me an hour to wake up."
"You should recover, it will just tame sometime." Clark's jaw tightened, as he looked at Alex wincing again. "I'm sorry. If I'd stopped him sooner—"
"Don't," Annie interrupted. "You did stop him. You saved me and Alex. If you hadn't shown up when you did..." She didn't finish the sentence.
"The Super Dupers," Clark said, his eyes returning to the screen. "Ladyfold, Bobby Badoing, The Black Hole. They were so young."
"I know," Annie said softly, as her eyes glanced at the news report that was depicting a picture of each of the fallen heroes. "Joy—Ladyfold—she was so excited about everything. Every mission was an adventure to her. Bobby couldn't stop moving, literally. Even when he wasn't using his powers, he was bouncing his leg, tapping his fingers. And James...James was quiet. Thoughtful. He told me once that he wanted to be a teacher. Work with kids. Help them control their powers."
"They died trying to do the right thing," Clark said. His hands clenched into fists. "They saw someone destroying the neighborhood and they stepped up. Just like they were supposed to."
"And they died for it," Alex said flatly, his tone earning him a glance from Annie and hard stare from Clark. "Because they weren't strong enough. Weren't fast enough. Weren't ready for something like Soldier Boy."
The words hung in the air like an accusation.
"We should have been there," Annie said, taking her eyes off of Alex and looking at Clark. "The League. That's what we built it for, right? To handle threats like this?"
"We didn't know," Clark replied. "Soldier Boy appeared out of nowhere. By the time I got word and flew to New York, it was already over."
"So what do we do now?" Alex asked. "Because sitting here watching news footage isn't helping anyone."
Clark stood up, wincing slightly. The radiation burns on his arms were healing, but slowly. Painfully. He could still feel the wrongness of Soldier Boy's energy, like it was trying to unmake him at a cellular level.
"We find him, find out what happened to him" Clark said, placing his hands on his hips as he tried to project an air of confidence. "Before he kills anyone else."
"Do we know where he is?" Annie asked.
"No," Clark admitted. "After our fight, he disappeared. Could be anywhere by now. But he mentioned his old team. Payback. Said he was looking for revenge."
"Most of them are still alive," Alex said. He pulled out his phone and began scrolling through files. "I did some research after Hell's Kitchen. Crimson Countess is hiding in a trailer park upstate—not very well I might add. Gunpowder died recently, so we don't have to worry about him. The TNT Twins bought a compound in Vermont, mostly stay out of the public eye. Mindstorm's apparently in a care facility with early-onset Alzheimer's—he's been there for almost a decade."
"What about Black Noir?" Clark asked as he pressed a button and caused the file he had on Payback to appear. "He was Soldier Boy's second-in-command. If anyone knows what really happened to the man, it's him."
"That's the problem," Alex answered, moving forward in his chair lookingg up at Clark. "Noir vanished from Vought Tower three days ago. Just walked out during his night patrol and never came back. No one's seen him since. Not even Homelander knows where he is—I checked with Maeve."
"Why would he run?" Annie asked a frown appearing on her face.
"Because he knows Soldier Boy's coming for him," Clark replied his eyes narrowing at the image of Vought's former number one team. "Whatever happened, Noir was part of it. And now he's hiding. We start with the others, Crimson Countess, the Twins, we warn them. Get them into protective custody before Soldier Boy finds them."
"You think they'll cooperate?" Annie asked skeptically. "From what I've heard, most of Payback hate each other. And they aren't the most stable. Might not believe Soldier Boy's actually alive."
"They will when I show them the footage," Clark replied. "And explain the alternative. Soldier Boy's not stable. He's not discriminating. Anyone connected to Payback is a target."
"What about Diana?" Annie asked carefully. "And the Boys? I heard they were out of the country tracking something down. That they were looking for something."
Clark's expression shifted, confusion flickering across his face. "Out of the country? What were they doing?"
"I don't know exactly, I swear, I would have told you, but you weren't around" Annie admitted, shifting as Clark's eyes narrowed at her. "But Diana mentioned something about them going after a weapon. Some old Cold War thing that was supposed to be able to stop Homelander. And it was right before Soldier Boy showed up in New York..."
The implications hung in the air.
"You think they found him?" Alex asked. "That they're the ones who released him?"
"It would explain the timing," Annie said. "And why Diana been so quiet. Usually, after a mission, she checks in. Let us know she's okay. But I haven't heard from her since before Hell's Kitchen."
Clark pulled out his phone and dialled. It rang four times before going to voicemail. He tried again. Same result.
"She's not answering," he said, trying to keep the worry from his voice.
"Try Hughie," Annie suggested.
Clark did. Same result. Then MM. Then Frenchie. All went to voicemail.
"That's not good," Alex observed.
"No," Clark agreed. "It's not." He tried one more number. This one answered on the second ring.
"Clark?" Lois' voice was tight, strained. "Is everything alright? I saw the news"
"No, that's why I'm calling. Do you know where the boys are?"
"Clark..." Lois paused, it caused Clark's frown to deepen. "All I know is something went wrong. Really wrong. I don't have all the details, but Diana and Kimiko were hurt. My dad arranged their extraction, but he won't tell me what happened."
Clark's stomach dropped. "How badly hurt?"
"I don't know. He just said they needed medical attention and time to recover." Lois' voice cracked slightly. "Clark, I think whatever they found caused New York. I think they're the ones that caused this."
Clark closed his eyes. "I need the address."
"I'll text it to you. But Clark? Be careful. If they're responsible for what happened in Hell's Kitchen... they're not going to want to talk about it."
"I'll be careful," Clark promised. He hung up and looked at Annie and Alex. "I need to go to Long Island. Check on Diana and the Boys."
"We're coming with you," Annie said, starting to stand.
"No," Clark said firmly. "You both need rest. Real rest, not whatever you've been doing. I'll check on them, find out what happened, and then we'll figure out our next move."
"Clark—" Annie started to protest.
"That's not a request," Clark interrupted. His voice was gentle but firm. "You're both sick. Using your powers is making it worse. I need you two to recover, because when we go after Soldier Boy again, I'm going to need backup that can actually fight."
Annie wanted to argue, but she couldn't. Not when she could barely walk across a room without getting dizzy. "Fine. But you call us the second you know something."
"I will," Clark promised. He headed for the door, then paused. "And Annie? Alex? Thank you. For everything you're doing. I know this is hard."
After he left, Annie and Alex sat in silence for a long moment.
"You think the Boys really released Soldier Boy?" Alex asked.
"Yeah," Annie said quietly. "I do. And I think they're going to have to live with that for the rest of their lives….if we all don't die first that is"
(Victoria Neuman's Office - Bureau of Superhuman Affairs - New York - Evening, June 27th)
Victoria Neuman was working late—again. The Hell's Kitchen disaster had every politician in the city screaming for answers, and as head of Superhuman Affairs, she was expected to provide them.
The problem was, she had no answers. Just more questions.
Her desk was covered in reports. Casualty lists. Witness statements. Radiation readings that made no sense to anyone. Three dead heroes. Forty-seven dead civilians in the initial blast. Another dozen hospitalised with mysterious symptoms that doctors couldn't explain. On top of it the statements made it clear a glowing man had fled the scene and no one could find him.
One question dominated her mind: What the hell had caused it?
She had tried to reach out to Stan Edgar and find out if he had a rogue Supe or if this was a plan to scare the public with a Super Terrorist attack. However, she was interrupted by her office door opening without a knock.
Neuman looked up, ready to tear into whoever had the audacity to barge in, and froze.
Homelander stood in her doorway, cape billowing slightly in the air conditioning. But something was different about him. His usual cocky smile was gone. His eyes were cold, calculating. And there was something in his posture—a tension, like a coiled spring ready to snap.
"We need to talk," Homelander said, closing the door behind him. She heard the lock click.
"About what?" Neuman asked, her hand subtly moving toward the panic button under her desk.
"Don't." Homelander's eyes flashed, causing her to stop fully. "I can hear your heartbeat. I can hear you reaching for that button. I can hear the blood pumping through your veins. I wouldn't."
Neuman froze. She'd known Homelander was powerful, but hearing him describe what he could sense about her body was deeply unsettling. "What do you want?"
"Information. And an alliance." Homelander moved to her desk, picking up a framed photo of her and Zoe. He studied it for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Nice kid. She's what, ten now? Eleven?"
"Put that down," Neuman said, her voice ice.
"Or what?" Homelander asked, but he set it down anyway. "You'll pop my head? Please. We both know that won't work on me. I've seen you try it on others. Very impressive, by the way. I didn't figure it out until recently, but once I started really listening... well. The way you manipulate blood vessels? Fascinating."
Neuman's blood ran cold. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"Yes, you do," Homelander replied pleasantly. He sat down in the chair across from her, making himself comfortable. "You're the head popper. The one who killed Raynor. The one who took out half the congressional committee. You've been Edgar's secret weapon for years."
"If you're here to threaten me—"
"I'm here to offer you a partnership," Homelander interrupted. "Because we have a common problem."
"What problem?"
"Stan Edgar," Homelander said. "What do you really know about him? And I mean really. Not the corporate bio. Not the public image. The truth."
Neuman studied him carefully. This was dangerous territory. "He's the CEO of Vought. He's been in charge for decades. He's brilliant, ruthless, and completely in control."
"He's an alien," Homelander interrupted. "From the same place as Superman. As Kara. They're called Kryptonians."
Neuman's expression didn't change. Edgar had told her years ago, when he'd recruited her from Red River. When he'd explained the real purpose behind Compound V, behind everything Vought had done. But she let Homelander continue, curious where he was going with this.
"For over a century, he's been manipulating humanity," Homelander continued, seemingly not phased at her lack of reaction. "Creating supes. Building Vought. All part of some grand plan to... well, it's all really sad really."
"What's sad?" Neumann asked her voice flat and neutral as she looked at the deranged man who, according to her calculations, was fast becoming obsolete.
Homelander leaned forward. "He's planning to leave. To abandon Earth entirely. Take his people and fuck off to the stars."
Neuman felt her carefully controlled expression slip for just a moment. "What?"
She was quick to recover, but Homelander smiled as he saw the gap in her armour. Neuman herself felt, off balance. She knew about the plan, Stan Edgar had promised her a great life a powerful one if he helped her and if the plan ever went forward, she would have a place in the new world he created. She would be his right-hand woman, running the humans of the world as the Kryoptains ruled and protected them. That was the plan.
"He's got some grand mission," Homelander said. "Save the Kryptonian race, rebuild their civilisation on some other planet. There's something called the Phantom Zone—a prison dimension where, apparently, survivors are trapped. He's building a device to free them. And once he does?" Homelander gestured broadly. "He's gone. And everyone here—everyone he's used, manipulated, controlled for decades—gets left behind."
"How do you know this?" Neuman asked, she felt cold as she could see that Homelander despite being mad was telling her the truth..
"Because he told me," Homelander replied his smile going cold and dark as he looked at her. "Told me I'm a mistake, a human product that isn't fit to be kin to his precious niece that I am worthless. So I decided to keep tabs on him since then"
"You've been spying on Edgar."
"I've been protecting my interests," Homelander corrected. "And I heard him talking to Kara. About the plan. About leaving. About how humanity is..." He paused, his face darkening. "Expendable."
Neuman was quiet for a long moment, her mind racing. Edgar had explicitly told her if the plan happened, Krypton would be raised again on Earth and she would have a place of honour in his regime. , He never said anything about leaving. But looking back, there had been signs. The way he'd been distancing himself from Vought operations. The increasing autonomy he'd given her. The sense that he was... preparing for something.
"Why are you telling me this?" she asked finally.
"Because you're useful," Homelander said bluntly. "You have political power. Connections. Leverage. And more importantly, you understand how the game really works. You're not some idealist like Superman, pretending the world can be saved through good intentions. You know that power is the only thing that matters."
"And you want to use that power."
"We want to use that power," Homelander corrected. "When Edgar leaves—and he will leave—Vought's going to need new leadership. The Bureau's going to need direction. The whole infrastructure he's built over a century is going to need someone to run it."
"And you think we should be the ones running it."
"I know we should be the ones running it," Homelander replied. "Think about it. You've got the political angle covered. I've got the power. Together, we control the narrative. We decide who lives, who dies, who gets to be a hero. We become the ones calling the shots."
Neuman stared at him for a long moment. "You're insane."
"I'm practical," Homelander countered. "Edgar used you. Recruited you from Red River, trained you, positioned you exactly where he wanted you. Made you into his secret weapon. And now he's planning to leave you behind like yesterday's garbage."
The words stung because they were true. Neuman had spent years—her entire adult life—working for Edgar. Killing for him. Crossing lines she could never uncross. All because he'd promised her power, protection, and a future for her and Zoe.
And now he was planning to abandon her.
"What exactly are you proposing?" she asked carefully.
"An alliance," Homelander said. "You help me navigate the political landscape. I provide the muscle. We watch Edgar's plan unfold, and when he leaves or it fails—because Superman's too much of a boy scout to let him abandon Earth—we're there to pick up the pieces."
"And if his plan doesn't fall apart? If he actually leaves?"
"Then we do the same," Homelander replied. "Superman's already questioning everything. He might fuck off with them, and if he doesn't he won't stand against the people's elected representative. Kara is devoted to Zod. I've seen it. One push in the right direction, after they are gone and Edgar's whole empire can be ours. And when it is, we will be the ones standing on top, ready to rebuild everything in our image."
"And my daughter?"
"Stays safe," Homelander said immediately. "Protected. Hell, she'd be safer than she is now. No more hiding what you are. No more pretending. We change the rules entirely. Make it so supes like us don't have to hide anymore."
Neuman studied him. Homelander was unstable, dangerous, and narcissistic. But he was also powerful. Incredibly powerful. And if Edgar really was planning to abandon Earth, to leave her behind after everything she'd done...
"I need guarantees," she said finally.
"Such as?"
"Zoe stays completely out of this. Whatever we do, whatever happens, she's untouchable. Off limits. No one touches her, not for leverage, not for anything. And she becomes one of us"
"Done," Homelander agreed immediately, shrugging his shoulders, not caring in the slightest.
"And I want Black Noir."
Homelander raised an eyebrow. "Why?"
"Because he's Edgar's creature, more than you" Neuman replied, her voice cold and detached as she stared into Homelander's equal cold and uncaring eyes. "His personal enforcer. His spy. I've watched Noir for years, and he reports everything back to Edgar. Every conversation, every meeting, every potential threat. If we're doing this, I want him gone."
"Interesting," Homelander said. "Noir's disappeared. Vanished three days ago. Just walked out of Vought Tower and hasn't been seen since. Even I don't know where he is."
"Find him," Neuman said, with a bit of force that made Homelander smile. "And when you do, I want to be the one who deals with him."
Homelander studied her for a moment, then smiled. "You know, I like you. You're direct. No bullshit. Not like Edgar with his endless manipulation and games." He stood up. "All right. I'll find Noir. And then we'll decide together what to do with him."
"Is that all?" Neuman asked.
"One more thing," Homelander said. "I need regular updates on Edgar's plan. Everything you know. Everything you learn. No surprises."
"Agreed," Neuman said. "And I want the same from you. If you learn something about Edgar's plans, about the Phantom Zone, about when he's planning to leave—I want to know immediately."
"Deal," Homelander said. He held out his hand. "Partners?"
Neuman looked at his hand for a long moment. This was a line she couldn't uncross. An alliance with Homelander meant blood. Meant violence. Meant becoming exactly the monster she'd spent years pretending not to be.
But Edgar was abandoning her. After everything—every person she'd killed, every line she'd crossed, every piece of her soul she'd sacrificed—he was leaving. And she'd be damned if she let him destroy her future without a fight.
She shook Homelander's hand.
"Partners," she said.
Homelander's smile was genuine now, reaching his eyes. "Excellent. Now, let's talk strategy. First, we need to consolidate power. Make sure that when Edgar's plan falls apart, we're in position to take over. That means..."
They talked for another hour, planning, strategizing. Building the framework for a new world order. One where they would be in control.
Neither of them noticed the small camera in the corner of the office. The one that had been installed six months ago by Edgar himself. The one that was recording everything.
(O'Malley's Bar - Queens, New York - Same Time)
The bar was exactly the kind of dive Butcher loved—dark, dirty, and full of people who minded their own business. The bartender didn't ask questions. The patrons kept their heads down. And the back booths were perfect for conversations you didn't want anyone to overhear.
MM and Hughie found him in his usual spot, nursing a whiskey. He looked terrible—pale, shaking, dark circles under his eyes like he hadn't slept in days. Which he probably hadn't. The Temp V had fully left his system now, leaving him hollow and weak.
"You look like shit," MM observed, sliding into the booth across from him. His voice was flat, emotionless. The way it got when he was trying to control his anger.
"Feel like it too," Butcher replied. His hand shook slightly as he raised the glass. "But we've got work to do."
"You said you had a lead on Soldier Boy," Hughie said, sitting beside MM. Hughie looked almost as bad as Butcher—haunted eyes, slumped shoulders, the weight of what they'd done in Russia pressing down on him.
"I do." Butcher pulled out a folded piece of paper and slid it across the table. "Got it from The Legend. Old Payback safe house in Pennsylvania. Soldier Boy's been spotted in the area."
"I want that fucker more than anyone else" MM unfolded the paper, studying the address. "But the man's a walking disaster. We can't take him. You saw what he did in Hell's Kitchen. Three dead heroes. Dozens of dead civilians. And Diana and Kimiko..."
"Yeah, I know what he did," Butcher said. His voice was harder than usual. "Which is why we need to know what he's after. Who he's targeting. If we can get ahead of him, we might be able to stop the next massacre."
"Or we could call Superman," MM countered, crossing his arms as he stared at Butcher. "Let him handle it. That's what he does, right? Save people from monsters."
"Superman's got his hands full with his alien family drama," Butcher replied, waving a hand dismissively. "Besides, by the time we get him involved, call a meeting, explain the situation, get everyone on the same page... Soldier Boy could kill a dozen more people."
MM studied Butcher carefully. There was something off about him. Something more than just the Temp V withdrawal. "What aren't you telling us?"
"Nothing," Butcher said. "I just want to track down Soldier Boy before anyone else dies."
"Bullshit," MM said flatly. "I've known you too long, Butcher. You've got that look. The one you get when you're planning something stupid."
"I don't know what you're talking about," Butcher replied, taking another drink.
Hughie looked between them, sensing the tension. "Guys, can we focus? Three people are dead. Diana and Kimiko lost their powers. We need to figure out what to do about Soldier Boy."
"The kid's right," Butcher said. "We can argue later. Right now, we need to move. Legend says Soldier Boy's been in that area for at least twelve hours. He's looking for something—or someone. If we get there now, we might be able to figure out his next move."
MM didn't look convinced, but he nodded slowly. "All right. When do we leave?"
"Tonight," Butcher said. "The three of us. Get there before dawn, scope the place out, see what we're dealing with."
"What about Diana and Kimiko?" Hughie asked. "Shouldn't we check on them first?"
"Frenchie's with them," Butcher replied. "They're safe. And honestly, they're better off not knowing what we're doing."
MM's eyes narrowed further at that, but he didn't push. "Fine. But we do this smart. No heroics. We observe, we gather intel, and then we decide our next move. Agreed?"
"Agreed," Butcher said easily. Too easily.
They finished their drinks and left, MM's suspicions growing with every step.
(Abandoned Safe House - Rural Pennsylvania - Pre-Dawn, June 28th, 2022)
The drive to Pennsylvania took four hours. Four hours of tense silence, broken only by occasional small talk that felt forced and hollow. MM drove, his eyes flicking to the rearview mirror every few minutes to check on Butcher in the back seat. Hughie sat in the passenger seat, staring out the window, lost in his own thoughts.
They arrived at the safe house just before dawn. The place was exactly as The Legend had described—abandoned, isolated, perfect for someone who didn't want to be found. The building was set back from the road, hidden by overgrown trees and tall grass. Windows boarded up. No signs of recent activity.
Except for the tyre tracks in the dirt road leading to the house. Fresh. Recent.
"Someone's been here," MM observed, parking the car a quarter mile away. "Maybe in the last day or two."
"Could be anyone," Hughie said hopefully. "Squatters. Kids looking for a place to party."
"Or it could be our boy," Butcher said, checking his weapon. He had a 9mm pistol and a knife. Not much against a supe, but better than nothing.
MM pulled out his thermal scanner—a piece of military hardware he'd "acquired" years ago. He aimed it at the house and watched the screen. After a moment, a heat signature appeared.
"Someone's in there," MM said quietly. "Single person. Ground floor. Not moving much."
"Could be a squatter," Hughie repeated, but his voice lacked conviction.
"Only one way to find out," Butcher said. He opened his door. "MM, you cover the back. Make sure he doesn't run. Hughie, you're with me. We go in quietly, assess the situation, then decide our next move."
MM nodded and moved around the building, silent as a ghost despite his size. Decades of military training hadn't left him. However, instead of approaching stealthy going for a window Hughie found himself following Butcher to the front door, weapons drawn.
The door wasn't locked. It swung open with a soft creak that seemed deafening in the pre-dawn quiet.
Inside, the safe house was a time capsule. Furniture from the 1980s, covered in dust and cobwebs. Old magazines are scattered on tables. A TV with a cracked screen. And in the living room, sitting on a ratty couch surrounded by old files and photographs, was Soldier Boy.
He looked up as they entered. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with red. His beard was unkempt, his hair greasy.
He looked up as they entered. His eyes were bloodshot, rimmed with red. His beard was unkempt, his hair greasy. He was wearing scavenged clothes that didn't quite fit—a flannel shirt too small for his frame, jeans that were stained and torn. And immediately, his chest began to glow with that sickly green light.
"Easy," Butcher said, raising his free hand while keeping his gun pointed at the floor. "We're not here to fight."
"Then why are you here?" Soldier Boy's voice was rough, damaged from decades of disuse and torture. There was something hollow in it, like a man who'd forgotten how to be human.
"We need to talk about what you're planning," Butcher replied carefully. "About who you're going after."
"Why would I tell you that?" Soldier Boy's chest glowed brighter, casting green shadows across the room.
"Because if you don't, more innocent people are going to die," Butcher said, his eyes going to Hughie and something in his voice made Hughie doubt the man for a second. "Like those kids in Hell's Kitchen."
Soldier Boy's expression darkened. "That wasn't supposed to happen. They attacked me. I was just trying to find... I was looking for something. And then they came at me with their powers, screaming about protecting people. I defended myself."
"They were seventeen, nineteen, and twenty-one," Hughie said, his voice shaking with barely controlled anger. "They were kids trying to protect the neighbourhood. And you murdered them."
"I didn't murder anyone," Soldier Boy snapped. "They attacked first. What was I supposed to do? Let them kill me?"
"They couldn't have killed you if they tried," Hughie shot back. "You're invulnerable. They were nothing to you. You could have just left. Flown away. But instead, you stayed and you fought and you killed them."
"Because they wouldn't stop," Soldier Boy replied, his voice rising. "They kept coming, kept attacking. The girl she tried to trap me in some shitty pin move. The kid who bounced, he kept hitting me over and over. And the other one, the black fella..." He paused, his expression shifting to something that might have been regret. "He tried to absorb my radiation. Thought he could stop me. But it was too much. I tried to pull it back, but..."
He trailed off, staring at his hands.
"But it tore him apart," Hughie finished, his voice hollow.
"Yeah," Soldier Boy said quietly, without much emition as he stared at Hughie with lifeless eyes. "It did."
The room fell silent. Outside, the sun was beginning to rise, casting long shadows through the boarded windows.
The back door burst open. MM entered, weapon raised, and immediately saw the situation—Butcher and Hughie facing Soldier Boy, the supe's chest glowing, tension thick enough to cut with a knife.
"Nobody move," MM said, his voice steady despite his racing heart.
Soldier Boy's head snapped toward MM, and for a moment, his chest flared brighter. But then he seemed to deflate slightly, the glow dimming.
"Three against one," Soldier Boy observed. "You boys got balls. I'll give you that. But if you're here to take me in, to hand me over to Vought or the government or whoever... you're gonna have a problem."
"We're not here for that," Butcher said, the words caused everyone to turn and look at the man.
MM's eyes narrowed. "Butcher, what the hell are you doing?"
"What needs to be done," Butcher replied. Then, without warning, he spun around and pointed his gun at MM. "Sorry, Marvin. But I need you to put the gun down."
The world seemed to freeze.
"Have you lost your fucking mind?" MM's voice was deadly quiet. The kind of quiet that came before an explosion.
"Put. The gun. Down," Butcher repeated. His hand was steady, his finger on the trigger. "I don't want to shoot you, but I will if I have to."
"Hughie," MM said, not taking his eyes off Butcher. "Tell me you're not part of this."
Hughie stood frozen, his face pale. His own gun hung limply at his side. "Butcher, what are you doing?"
"What I should have done from the start," Butcher replied, his eyes not leaving MM for a second. "MM, gun. Now. Or I put a bullet in your leg and we have this conversation while you're bleeding."
MM stared at him for a long moment. Years of friendship, of fighting side by side, of trust built through shared trauma and loss. All of it crystallized into this single moment of betrayal. Slowly, MM lowered his weapon. Then he tossed it aside, sending it skittering across the dusty floor.
"You're making a deal with him," MM said. It wasn't a question. "That's what this is. You're making a deal with Soldier Boy."
"Smart man," Soldier Boy observed from the couch. His chest had dimmed completely now, as he watched the drama unfold with something like amusement.
"Butcher, this is insane," Hughie said, his voice rising. "He killed three people. He stripped Diana and Kimiko of their powers. We can't trust him."
"I don't need to trust him," Butcher replied, his gun still trained on MM. "I just need to use him."
"Use him for what?" MM demanded. "What the fuck are you planning?"
Butcher didn't answer. Instead, he turned to Soldier Boy. "You want revenge on Payback. The ones who betrayed you, sold you out to the Russians. I can help with that."
"How?" Soldier Boy asked, leaning forward slightly.
"I know where they all are," Butcher said. "Crimson Countess is living in a trailer park in upstate New York. Gunpowder's in a pine box already. The TNT Twins have a compound in Vermont. Mindstorm's in a care facility outside Philadelphia and Black Noir..." Butcher paused. "Well, Noir's disappeared. But I've got contacts. People who can find him."
"And in exchange?" Soldier Boy asked, tilting his head at the Englishman.
"In exchange, you help me with a problem," Butcher said his eyes still on MM, ready to shoot the second the man tried anything. "There's someone who needs to be dealt with. Someone only you can handle."
"Homelander," Soldier Boy said. It wasn't a question.
"Among others," Butcher confirmed.
"No," Hughie said, stepping forward. "No, Butcher. I know you hate Homelander. We all do. But this—unleashing Soldier Boy on him? That's not justice. That's just trading one monster for another."
"Is it?" Butcher asked, finally looking at Hughie. "Homelander's killed hundreds. Thousands, probably. He's raped women. Terrorised entire cities. And he gets to walk around playing hero while everyone pretends he's not a monster. At least with Soldier Boy, we know what we're getting."
"A walking nuclear reactor who can't control his powers," MM spat out, anger radiating off of him in hateful waves. "The man that killed my family. Who killed three kids by accident. Yeah, much better."
"It wasn't an accident," Soldier Boy interjected, causing every eye to turn to him even Butcher. "I knew what I was doing. I just... I didn't have a choice. They wouldn't stop attacking."
"You always have a choice," Hughie said. "That's what Clark taught me. No matter how hard things get, you always have a choice."
"Clark? The fucking pussy in tights" Soldier Boy's eyes narrowed. "You mean Superman?"
"Yeah," Hughie said. "Superman. The guy who could probably bench-press a mountain but chooses to help people instead. The guy who has every reason to become a tyrant but doesn't. Because he chooses to be better."
"And where was this Superman when I was being tortured in Russia for forty years?" Soldier Boy asked, anger in his voice as he stared at Hughie. "Where was he when I was being experimented on, poisoned with those green rocks, turned into a weapon? Where were any of your so-called heroes?"
"You were supposed to be dead," Hughie replied, stepping forward only for Butcher to pull him back with his free hand. "Everyone thought you died in 1984. How could anyone save you if they didn't know you were alive?"
"But they knew," Soldier Boy said. "Vought knew. Edgar knew. They all knew I was alive, rotting in some Russian facility. And they did nothing. Because I was inconvenient. A problem that had been solved."
He stood up, and despite his dishevelled appearance, there was something commanding about him. Something dangerous. Hughie took a step back as the man's eyes burrowed into him,
"So don't talk to me about choices," Soldier Boy continued. "I made my choice. I survived. And now I'm going to make everyone who put me there pay."
"Even if innocent people die?" Hughie asked.
"There are no innocent people," Soldier Boy replied. "Just people who haven't been caught yet."
MM shook his head. "Jesus Christ, Butcher. You're really going to work with this psychopath?"
"He's not a psychopath," Butcher said. "He's a weapon. And I'm going to point him at the right targets."
"Like Homelander," MM said. "And then what? After Homelander's dead, you really think Soldier Boy's just going to ride off into the sunset? He's going to keep killing. Keep destroying. And every death after Homelander is on you."
"Then I'll deal with that when it happens," Butcher replied.
"How?" MM demanded. "You saw what his radiation did to Diana and Kimiko. You think you can stop him? You think anyone can stop him once he gets going?"
"Superman can," Butcher said, the words surprising MM, as he narrowed his eyes at Butcher. "If it comes to that."
"If Superman could stop him, he would have done it already," MM shot back, shaking his head in disgust at the man. "But he can't. Because Soldier Boy's radiation affects Kryptonians, too. Clark barely survived their fight in Hell's Kitchen. And you want to unleash that on the world?"
"I want to kill Homelander," Butcher said simply. "Everything else is secondary."
MM stared at him for a long moment. Then he laughed. It was a bitter, harsh sound.
"I'm done with you Butcher," MM spat on the floor as he shook with rage at the man. "You want to make a deal with the devil? Fine. Do it without me. I'm going back to Diana and Kimiko. People who actually need help. And when I next see you, you fucking die."
"Marvin—" Butcher started.
"Don't," MM interrupted. "Don't try to justify this. Don't try to make it sound reasonable. You're going down a dark path, Butcher. And I'm not following you anymore. In fact I will fucking stop you"
He turned to Hughie. "You coming?"
Hughie stood frozen, his mind racing. Every instinct told him to go with MM. To walk away from this insanity. But he thought about Annie, sick from Soldier Boy's radiation. About the Super Dupers, dead because they'd tried to stop him. About Homelander, still out there, still untouchable.
And he thought about Butcher's words: I don't need to trust him. I just need to use him.
"I'm sorry," Hughie said quietly, looking at MM. "But I'm staying."
MM looked like he'd been slapped. "Hughie..."
"We're out of options," Hughie said. "Every other plan we've tried has failed. Maybe... maybe this is the only way."
"By becoming the monsters we're trying to stop?" MM asked.
"By doing what needs to be done," Hughie replied.
MM shook his head slowly. Then he walked to the door, pausing in the threshold. "When this all goes to shit—and it will go to shit—don't come crying to me. You made your choice."
He left, and the sound of his footsteps fading into the morning felt like a death knell.
Soldier Boy watched the door close, then looked at Butcher and Hughie. "Well. That was dramatic."
"Shut up," Butcher said. He lowered his gun finally, his hand shaking slightly. "We have a deal or not?"
"Maybe," Soldier Boy said, crossing his arms as he looked at Butcher. "But I've got conditions."
"Name them."
"First, we go after the rest of Payback. All of them. No exceptions. I don't care if they're in nursing homes or witness protection or whatever. They all die.
"Done," Butcher agreed. "We don't know where he is right now, but we'll help you find him."
"Second, after them, we go after Noir, and I get to kill him myself nice and slow. And you too don't go crying about collateral damage"
"Fine," Butcher agreed. "What else?"
"Third, I want the people responsible for putting me in that Russian facility. Whoever authorized it. Whoever made the deal. Whoever signed off on letting me rot there for forty years. I want them dead."
"That's... that might be complicated," Butcher said. "Most of the people involved are probably already dead. It was almost forty years ago."
"Then find out who's still alive," Soldier Boy said. "And give me their names. That's non-negotiable."
"All right," Butcher said. "And in exchange?"
"In exchange, I help you kill Homelander," Soldier Boy said. "And anyone else you want dead. Within reason."
"What about collateral damage?" Hughie asked quietly. "What if more innocent people get in the way?"
"What the fuck did I just say. They shouldn't get in the way," Soldier Boy replied. "If they do it's not our fault"
"That's not good enough," Hughie said. "We need guarantees that you'll try to minimize civilian casualties."
Soldier Boy laughed. "Kid, I was in the military for twenty years. I've seen more combat than you can imagine. And you know what I learned? There's no such thing as a clean war. People die. That's just how it is."
"But you can try," Hughie pressed. "You can try to avoid killing innocent people."
"I'll try," Soldier Boy said, though his tone suggested he didn't care and just wanted the conversation over. "But I'm not making promises I can't keep."
Butcher looked at Hughie. "That's the best we're going to get."
"It's not enough," Hughie replied.
"It's what we have," Butcher said. He turned back to Soldier Boy and held out his hand. "Do we have a deal?"
Soldier Boy looked at the offered hand for a long moment. Then he reached out and shook it. His grip was crushing, and Butcher felt his bones creak.
"Deal," Soldier Boy said. "But if you betray me—if this is some kind of trap—I'll kill you both. And I'll enjoy it."
"Fair enough," Butcher replied, pulling his hand back and flexing his fingers.
"So what's first?" Soldier Boy asked.
"First, we need to get you cleaned up," Butcher said. "Can't have you walking around looking like you just crawled out of a dumpster. Second, we go to where the Countess is hiding, and get working on that list of yours"
"I like you" Soldier Boy smiled. It was not a pleasant expression. "Then let's get started."
(Vought Tower - Penthouse - Dawn, June 28th, 2022)
Ryan stood on the balcony, watching the sunrise paint the city in shades of gold and pink. It should have been beautiful. Instead, it felt like watching the last moments before a storm. Kara stood beside him, still wearing the pendant that contained the Zone Index. Her expression was conflicted, torn between duty and conscience.
"Are you ready?" she asked, though her voice suggested she wasn't ready herself.
Ryan nodded. "Are you?"
"No," Kara admitted. "But we must try. We owe it to Kal-El. To ourselves. To... to everyone."
They found Zod in his office, standing by the window with his hands clasped behind his back. He'd dropped his human disguise—Stan Edgar was gone, replaced by the true form of General Dru-Zod. Taller, more imposing, his black eyes reflecting the morning light.
The change was subtle but profound. Where Stan Edgar had been controlled and emotionless, Zod was simply... present. Solid. Unmovable.
"Uncle," Kara said, stepping inside. Ryan followed, closing the door behind them.
Zod didn't turn around. "I know why you're here."
"Then you know what we're going to say," Kara replied.
"That I should change my plans. Stay on this world. Help these... people." Zod's voice was carefully neutral, as if discussing the weather. "Save them from themselves."
"Yes," Ryan said firmly. "That's exactly what we're saying."
"No," Zod replied simply.
The bluntness of it took Ryan aback. He'd expected an argument. Debate. At least some discussion. But Zod's response was final, immovable.
"You didn't even hear us out," Ryan protested.
"I don't need to." Zod finally turned to face them. His expression was as cold and controlled as ever. "You're going to tell me that Jor-El's message said the mission should be abandoned if it required innocent blood. We have a moral obligation to help Earth. That leaving would make us no better than those who let Krypton die."
"Yes," Kara said firmly. "All of that. Uncle, we cannot simply—"
"I've heard the arguments," Zod interrupted. "I've considered them. Extensively. And my answer remains the same. We are leaving."
"But why?" Ryan demanded, his voice rising. "Why abandon billions of people? You have the power to help them. To save them. To show them a better way!"
"Do I?" Zod asked coldly. He moved to his desk, pulled out a tablet, and brought up a series of images. "Tell me, young one. How would I save them?"
He swiped through the images. War zones. Environmental disasters. Political corruption. Poverty. Disease. Suffering on a scale that made Ryan's stomach turn.
"This is humanity," Zod said. "This is what they do to themselves. And you want me to stop it? How? By force? By becoming their dictator? By enslaving them to save them from themselves?"
"By leading them," Kara said. "By example. By—"
"I tried that," Zod interrupted. "For over a century, I have worked within their systems. Guided their development. Given them the tools—Compound V, advanced medical technology, clean energy solutions. Do you know what they did with those gifts?"
He swiped to new images. Compound V being used to create super-soldiers. Medical technology being weaponised. Clean energy being monopolized by corporations.
"They turned every gift into a weapon," Zod said. "Every opportunity into exploitation. Every chance to better themselves into another way to hurt each other. That is not ignorance. That is a choice. And I will not sacrifice what remains of Krypton for a species that refuses to save itself."
"That's not fair," Ryan protested. "Not all humans are like that. Clark's parents weren't. Lois isn't. Hughie, MM, Frenchie—they're all trying to make things better."
"Exceptions," Zod replied. "Statistically insignificant exceptions in a species defined by self-destruction."
"Then help them become the rule instead of the exception," Kara pleaded. "Uncle, you are the most brilliant military mind Krypton ever produced. If anyone can find a way to help these people, it is you."
"Perhaps," Zod acknowledged. "But it would take decades. Centuries, perhaps. And in that time, how many of our people remain trapped in the Phantom Zone? How many suffer in that timeless prison while I play saviour to a species that doesn't want to be saved?"
He moved closer to them, his black eyes boring into Kara's blue ones.
"Kara, you have been awake for barely any time at all," Zod said, his voice softer but no less firm. "You do not understand these people as I do. You see potential because you have not watched them waste it for a hundred years. You see hope because you have not seen them extinguish it again and again."
"Then show me," Kara said desperately. "Show me why you have given up on them. Prove to me that they cannot be saved."
"I don't need to prove anything, I am your commanding officer" Zod replied. He gestured to the window, to the city beyond. "But if you need any, just watch. Watch what they do to each other. Watch what they do to their world. And then tell me I'm wrong to leave."
Kara opened her mouth but couldn't find the words as she stared out at the city and then back at the man she had admired all of her life.
"Our people are trapped and waiting," Zod answered her silence with a resolve that made Kara step back and curl into herself. "Which is why I am building the projector. Within days, we will have access to the Zone. Our people will be free."
"And then you'll leave," Kara said quietly. "Take them and abandon Earth."
"Yes," Zod confirmed. "We will go to the suitable world you found. Rebuild Krypton. Give our people a future."
"And the billions here?" Ryan demanded, stepping forward, earning an approving look from Zod. "What happens to them?"
"Whatever they choose to happen," Zod replied, turning his side to them as he looked out of the earth, with barely concealed disgust. "I am not their keeper. Not their saviour. Nor am I their destroyer. They will live or die by their own choices. As it should be."
"Uncle, please—" Kara's voice broke slightly. "Mother is in the Zone. I know she is. And I want nothing more than to see her again. But Jor-El's message was clear. If the mission requires innocent blood—"
"It doesn't," Zod interrupted, his tone cold and dismissive. "I am not killing anyone. I am simply choosing not to save them. There is a difference."
"Is there?" Ryan asked. "If you have the power to help and you choose not to, isn't that the same as letting them die?"
"No," Zod said firmly. "It is called not being responsible for every tragedy in the universe. Krypton fell because our leaders believed they could control everything. Solve every problem. Save everyone. And in their arrogance, they destroyed our world."
He moved back to the window, his hands clasped behind his back again.
"I will not repeat their mistakes," Zod said. "I will save who I can—our people. And I will let everyone else make their own choices. Even if those choices lead to their extinction."
The room fell silent. Kara stood there, trembling slightly, her hand on the pendant.
"You've given up on them," Ryan said quietly.
"I never had faith in them to begin with," Zod replied, his voice softening as he looked at the young boy who reminded him of a dear old friend. "Jor-El would have. He believed in the potential of any race to be better. And look where that would have got him. Standard on a savage world, alone. While the humans who benefited from his sacrifice squabble over the scraps. It is is good that he didn't see his only son reduced and corrupted"
"Kal-El isn't corrupted," Kara responded with a passion that caused Zod to raise an eyebrow.
"No?" Zod asked, his tone cold as he chuckled darkly. "He was raised by humans. Thinks like them. Acts like them. Which is why he'll never understand that some species simply cannot be saved. Not because they lack the capability, but because they lack the will."
"Uncle, I am begging you," Kara said, tears forming in her eyes. "Do not do this. Do not abandon these people."
"I'm not," Zod replied. "I'm simply not responsible for them. There is a difference."
"Not to the people who will die," Ryan said.
"Everyone dies eventually," Zod said. "The only question is whether they die having lived free, or died being controlled by someone who thought they knew better."
He moved back to his desk, effectively dismissing them.
"This discussion is over," Zod said. "I have work to do. The projector will be ready in three weeks. Four at most. When it is, we will retrieve our people and leave this world behind."
"And if we refuse to help?" Kara asked, her voice barely a whisper.
Zod looked up at her, and for the first time, Ryan saw something that might have been pain in his black eyes.
"Then you refuse," Zod said quietly, his tone caused Kara to flinch slightly. "You are free to make your own choices, Kara. Just as I am free to make mine. But do not ask me to sacrifice our people—your mother—for strangers who will not save themselves."
Kara stood there for a moment longer, then turned and walked out. Ryan followed.
In the hallway, Kara stopped, her hands clenched into fists. She was shaking—not from fear, but from the weight of the choice before her.
"He's not going to change his mind," Ryan said.
"No," Kara agreed. "He is not."
"So what do we do?"
Kara looked down at the pendant around her neck—the Zone Index. The key to freeing all the Kryptonian survivors. Including her mother.
"I do not know," she admitted. "Every choice feels wrong. If I help him, we abandon Earth. If I refuse, we abandon our people. There is no path that does not require sacrifice."
"What would your mother want you to do?" Ryan asked.
Kara smiled sadly. "My mother would tell me to follow my oath. To uphold Krypton's ideals no matter what. To choose honour over convenience."
"And your oath says...?"
"That all life is precious," Kara said quietly. "That we protect the innocent. That we stand against injustice. That we do not abandon those in need." She looked up at Ryan. "My oath says I cannot leave Earth to die."
"Even if it means leaving your mother in the Phantom Zone?"
Kara's hand went to the pendant again. "Even then. Because she would not want me to become the person Zod is. Cold. Cynical. Having given up on the universe."
"So we stop him," Ryan said.
"How?" Kara asked. "He is my uncle. My commanding officer. The man who helped raise me. How do I betray him?"
"You're not betraying him," Ryan said. "You're doing what's right. There's a difference."
Kara looked at him for a long moment. Then she nodded slowly.
"You are wise beyond your years, Kon-El," she said. "Very well. We stop him. But we must be careful. Zod is... formidable. And he will not give up his plan easily."
"Then we need help," Ryan said. "We need to tell Clark. Tell Lois. Get everyone together."
"And what do we tell them?" Kara asked. "That my uncle plans to abandon Earth? That I have been complicit in his plans until now?"
"We tell them the truth," Ryan said. "All of it. And then we figure out how to stop him together."
Kara nodded again, more firmly this time. She looked back toward Zod's office one more time, then down at the pendant.
"I am sorry, Uncle," she whispered. "But I cannot follow you down this path."
She and Ryan headed for the elevator. They had a lot of people to call.
And a world to save