Chapter 31 - Herogasm
(Rural Vermont - TNT Twins' Compound - June 24th, 2022)
The private estate looked more like a fortress than a home. High walls, security cameras on every corner, and a gate that wouldn't look out of place at a military installation. Alex adjusted his costume—the bright blue and silver of his Supersonic outfit felt almost absurd given the circumstances—and pressed the intercom button for the 20th time.
"Come on," he muttered, glancing back at the unmarked van where two Bureau agents waited. He didn't like working with them, but it's what they had to work with. "Someone has to be home."
The intercom crackled to life. "What?"
"Tommy? It's Supersonic, Superman sent me we. We need to talk."
"Fuck off."
"Tommy, please. This is serious. Soldier Boy is alive, and he's coming for you. Both of you. We can protect you, but you need to come with us. Now."
There was a long pause. Alex could hear muffled arguing on the other end—Tommy and Tessa, probably debating whether this was some kind of elaborate prank.
"Soldier Boy's dead," Tommy finally said. "Has been for forty years. The boy scout is just trying to ruin our fun Nice try, asshole."
"He's not dead! You are in danger!." Alex pressed closer to the intercom, desperation creeping into his voice. "I'm trying to save your li-."
"You can fuck off wetback." The intercom went dead.
Alex stood there for a moment, staring at the silent speaker. He pulled out his phone and dialled Annie.
"Hey," she answered on the first ring. He could hear wind in the background—she was flying. "Any luck?"
"Yeahhhhhhh, No. They won't even listen. Won't even open the gate. They think I'm trying to crash some party thier hosting" Alex ran a hand through his hair. "What do we do?"
There was a pause on the other end. When Annie spoke again, her voice was tight. "Stay there. Keep trying. Clark and I just found Crimson Countess."
"Found her? Great once you get her in protective custody we can—"
"She's dead, Alex. Someone got to her before we did. And based on the blast pattern..." Annie's voice cracked slightly. "It was Soldier Boy. He's already on the move."
Alex felt his stomach drop. "Jesus. Okay. I'll keep trying here, but—"
"We're on our way. ETA twenty minutes." The line went dead.
Alex looked back at the compound. Twenty minutes. He pressed the intercom again.
"Tommy. Tessa. Please. You have twenty minutes, maybe less. If you won't come with us, at least get out of there. Go anywhere!"
No response.
Alex turned to the agents. "How fast can you get through that gate?"
"You're a Supe, aren't you?" The younger of the two agents said flatly, "Just punch it down."
"I've got like tier three strength. My powers are sound-based, and the amount of sonic force I would need to break these things would deafen everyone in like 6 miles." Alex replied, crossing his arms. "So can you get in or not?"
One of them, a grizzled man in his fifties, gave him an even flatter look. "Not fast enough if you're asking what I think you're asking."
"Then we wait." Alex's eyes were fixed on the compound. "And we hope to hell Clark gets here in time."
(Crimson Countess's Trailer Park - Upstate New York - 30 Minutes Earlier)
Clark landed softly in the gravel parking lot, the impact barely making a sound despite his size. The trailer park was exactly as depressing as he'd imagined—a collection of rusted metal boxes housing people who'd been forgotten by the world. Annie touched down beside him a moment later, her light powers dimming as she settled.
"She's in that one," Clark said, pointing to a faded blue trailer at the far end. "But Annie... I don't hear a heartbeat."
"Shit." Annie's face fell. "Are you sure?"
"I'm sure." Clark started walking toward the trailer, his x-ray vision piercing the thin metal walls. What he saw made him stop in his tracks. "Annie, you should probably stay—"
"No." Her voice was firm. "If she's dead, I need to see. I need to know what we're up against."
Clark nodded slowly. He understood. This wasn't about protecting her from the sight of death—Annie had seen plenty. This was about respecting her choice to face what was coming.
The trailer door hung open, creaking in the slight breeze. Clark stepped inside first, and the smell hit him immediately. Burned flesh. Melted plastic. The acrid stench of ozone came with massive energy discharge.
Crimson Countess—Margaret Sullivan, according to the files, lay in the centre of what had been her living room. Or what was left of her. The body was barely recognisable, charred beyond recognition. The walls around her showed blast patterns, scorch marks radiating outward from where she'd been standing.
"Oh god," Annie whispered from behind him. "Clark..."
"Don't come in here," Clark said quietly. "There's nothing you need to see."
But Annie had already stepped inside. Her face went pale, but she didn't look away. Instead, she moved closer, studying the blast patterns with the careful eye of someone trained to analyse superhuman combat.
"That's not heat vision," she said after a moment. "The pattern's wrong. It's... It's like a wave. Like something radiated out from a central point."
"Soldier Boy," Clark confirmed. He'd been studying the same patterns. "This is the same energy signature I felt when he hit me in Hell's Kitchen. It's not a beam—it's a pulse. An explosion of radiation from his chest."
"How powerful is this guy?" Annie asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Strong enough to kill three Super Dupers without even trying, Strong enough to strip Diana and Kimiko of their powers. Strong enough to knock me down. And based on what I'm seeing here..." He gestured to the destruction around them. "Strong enough that I'm not sure I can stop him."
It was the first time he'd said it out loud. The admission hung in the air between them like a physical weight.
Annie turned to look at him. "Then we get Diana back into fighting shape. We get Maeve. We hit him with everything we've got."
"And if that's not enough?"
"Then we figure something else out." Annie's jaw set in determination. "Because we can't let him kill anyone else."
"Butcher's going to aim him at Homelander," Clark replied, remembering what they had learnt from MM about Butcher's recent plan to kill Homelander.
"Yeah, the man's a monster, but we still need to stop Soldier Boy," Annie grunted, not liking that doing the right thing was protecting the monster.
"Why?" The question came out before Clark could stop it. "I mean, if they kill each other—"
"Because collateral damage, Clark. You've seen what they can do. If those two go at it for real, how many people die in the crossfire?" Annie shook her head. "We can't let that happen. Not in a populated area. Not anywhere."
Clark knew she was right. But part of him—a dark, tired part that had been growing since his mother's death—wanted to let them fight. Wanted to watch Homelander finally get what he deserved.
His phone buzzed. He pulled it out and saw a message from Hughie: We need to talk. It's bad. I went with Butcher only to talk him out of it and it's not working. Please call its really BAD
"Something wrong?" Annie asked.
"Hughie. Says he needs to talk." Clark frowned. "We need to check on Alex. If Soldier Boy's already hit Crimson Countess, the TNT Twins could be next."
They were in the air a moment later, the trailer park falling away beneath them. Clark tried Hughie's number as they flew, but it went straight to voicemail. Then he tried again. Same result.
"This isn't good," Annie said, keeping pace beside him. "Hughie always answers. Always."
"I know." Clark pushed himself faster. "Annie, whatever happens at that compound, we need to be ready for—"
He stopped mid-sentence. His super-hearing had just picked up something. A familiar sonic signature, accompanied by a heartbeat he'd memorised years ago.
But there was another heartbeat too. One he'd never expected to hear again.
"Clark?" Annie noticed his hesitation. "What is it?"
"Kara." The name came out barely above a whisper. "She's coming. And she's not alone."
Annie's eyes widened. "Is it Homelander?"
"No. It's..." Clark's enhanced vision caught them in the distance. Two figures are flying toward the compound from the east. One in white and red, and blue. The other was in a makeshift costume that was clearly just modified civilian clothes. "It's Ryan."
"Ryan? How, what—"
"I don't know. But they're heading straight for the TNT Twins' compound. And Annie..." Clark's voice was grim. "Get ready for a fight,"
They pushed harder, racing toward the compound. But even at full speed, Clark knew they wouldn't arrive before Kara and Ryan. He could only hope that whatever decision Kara had made, it was the right one.
(Somewhere Over Pennsylvania - Same Time)
Ryan clung to Kara's hand as they soared through the air. The wind whipped at his makeshift cape—just a red blanket Kara had found and tied around his shoulders—and he had to squint against the rushing air. He thought the cape was stupid, but Kara had insisted said it was traditional, apparently Krypton had been big on Capes. Despite the discomfort, despite feeling stupid, despite the fear and confusion of the past few days, he felt something he hadn't felt in a long time.
Hope.
"Are you certain about this?" Kara asked for the third time. Her voice carried easily over the wind, though she kept her eyes fixed forward. "Once we do this, there is no going back. My uncle will see it as betrayal. He will not forgive easily."
"I'm sure," Ryan said, his own voice steadier than he felt. "Clark needs us. My mo- Lois needs us, Mia needs us. And... and you said it yourself. Zod's plan means leaving Earth to burn. We can't do that."
Kara's grip on his hand tightened slightly. "You are very brave, Kon-El. Your make your ancestors proud."
"I'm just Ryan," he corrected gently. "I know you mean well with the whole Kon-El thing, but... I'm Ryan. Ryan Butcher."
Kara looked at him then, and Ryan saw something complicated in her blue eyes. Guilt, maybe. Or regret. "You are right. I apologise. I have been so focused on our people, on our mission, that I forgot... You had a life before I arrived. Parents who loved you. A world you belong to."
"You belong here, too," Ryan said. "If you want to."
"Do I?" Kara looked away again. "I am a stranger to this world, Ryan. A soldier from a dead civilisation, following orders from a man who may be lost to his grief and anger. I am not sure I know how to be anything else."
"Clark could teach you. He's good at that stuff."
A small smile crossed Kara's face. "Yes. Kal-El is... remarkable. I see much of my uncle Jor-El in him. That same certainty about what is right. That same refusal to compromise his principles, even when it would be easier." The smile faded. "I only hope he can forgive me for my part in what has happened."
Ryan wanted to tell her everything would be okay. That Clark would understand, would welcome her with open arms. But he'd seen Clark's face when Martha died. Had heard the rage in his voice during the fight with Homelander. Clark could be forgiving, but there were lines even he wouldn't cross.
"He'll listen," Ryan said instead. "That's what he does. He listens, and he tries to understand. Just... be honest with him. Tell him the truth about everything."
"Everything?" Kara's voice was suddenly very small. "Even the parts that will hurt him?"
"Especially those parts. Clark's strong enough to handle it."
They flew in silence for a moment. Below them, Pennsylvania's hills and forests rolled past in a green blur. Ryan could see the compound now, a white speck on the horizon that was rapidly growing larger.
"I made a choice," Kara said suddenly. "When my uncle gave me time to think about the mission. To think about what we were being asked to do."
"And so what did you choose?"
"To be more than just a soldier." Kara's voice was stronger now, more certain. "My uncle raised me to follow orders. To put Krypton first, always. To see everything through the lens of duty and service. And for a long time, I thought that was enough. That being a good soldier was the same as being a good person."
"But?"
"But watching Kal-El, seeing how he chooses to use his power... it made me question everything I thought I knew." Kara looked down at Ryan. "He could rule this world. Could force humanity to bend to his will. He is strong enough, smart enough, determined enough. But he chooses not to. He chooses to serve instead of command. To ask instead of demand. That is not a weakness, as my uncle believes. That is a strength I never knew existed."
Ryan felt his throat tighten. "So you're staying? You're going to help us?"
"I am going to try." Kara's grip on his hand was firm now, steady. "I am going to try to be the hero my cousin is. To live up to the ideals of the House of El, not through blind commitment, but through service and sacrifice. I do not know if I can succeed. I do not know if I am strong enough. But I must try."
"Then you'll fit right in," Ryan said, and meant it.
They were close to the compound now. Ryan could see the walls, the gate, and the security cameras. And near the entrance, he spotted a familiar figure in blue and silver.
"That's Alex," Ryan said, pointing. "Supersonic. He's one of the good guys."
"Then we should introduce ourselves properly." Kara began their descent, bringing them down slowly so as not to startle anyone. "And hope that Kal-El arrives before things become complicated."
"What do you mean?"
Kara didn't answer. But Ryan followed her gaze to the compound's interior, where his enhanced hearing was just picking up sounds. Music. Laughter. And something else.
"Kara, what is that?" Ryan whispered.
"Herogasm," Kara replied grimly. "An annual gathering where supes indulge in... excess. My uncle mentioned it once. Said it was proof of human moral decay spreading to those with power." She looked at Ryan. "We should wait for Kal-El."
But even as she said it, Ryan's ears picked up new sounds. Screaming. Not the playful kind. Real terror.
And underneath it all, a voice saying words that made Ryan's blood run cold:
"Where are the twins?"
(TNT Twins' Compound - Main House - Same Time)
Tommy and Tessa had just finished their fourth round of shots when the music died.
One moment, the party was in full swing—thirty supes in various states of undress, engaging in activities that would make a pornographer blush. The annual Herogasm had been their tradition for decades, a chance to let loose without judgment, without cameras, without the world watching. Just power and pleasure and the kind of excess that came from knowing you were basically untouchable.
Then the music stopped. And everyone went very, very quiet.
"What the hell?" Tommy slurred, looking around. "Who touched the stereo?"
The front door exploded inward.
Later, those who survived would describe what happened in fragments. Disjointed images that didn't quite fit together into a coherent whole. A man in military green unifrom carrying an eagle shield walking through the debris. Eyes that had seen too much. Hands that trembled not with fear but with barely controlled rage.
"Where are the twins?"
The voice was rough. Damaged. Like someone who'd spent decades screaming and had worn their throat raw.
"Dude," Deep said from where he'd been engaged with two speedsters whose names no one remembered. "You can't just barge in here. This is a private—"
He never finished the sentence. The man's fist took him in the jaw, and The Deep—Vought's third most powerful hero, who could survive the crushing pressure of the ocean's deepest trenches—went down like he'd been hit by a freight train.
That's when the panic started.
Supes scattered in every direction. Some flew. Some ran. Some just froze, their drug-and-alcohol-addled minds unable to process what was happening. A few tried to fight back, sending blasts of energy or swinging enhanced fists at the intruder.
It didn't matter. Nothing mattered.
The man walked through them like they were children. A telekinetic's attempted restraint was shattered. A fire manipulator's flames washed over him harmlessly. A brick shithouse of a strongman tried to tackle him and ended up with a broken spine for his trouble.
"WHERE ARE THE TWINS?"
The roar came from everywhere and nowhere. And for the first time in their lives, every supe in that room felt what it was like to be truly powerless.
Tommy saw him first. Recognised him from old photos, old stories, old nightmares he'd thought were safely buried.
"No," he whispered. "You're dead. You're supposed to be dead."
Soldier Boy's eyes locked onto him. "Surprise."
Tommy didn't run. Couldn't run. Fear had turned his legs to jelly. Tessa grabbed his hand, their powers activating in tandem—their trademark twin detonation that had levelled buildings and killed hundreds.
Soldier Boy's chest began to glow.
"Wait—" Tommy started.
The explosion came from both sides at once. The TNT Twins unleashed everything they had, a blast of concussive force that should have vaporised anything in its path. Soldier Boy's chest erupted with that sickly green radiation, a pulse of energy that made reality itself seem to bend.
The two forces met in the middle with a sound like the world ending.
(Outside the Compound - Same Moment)
Clark heard the explosion from three miles out. Felt it too—a percussive wave that rippled through the air and set his teeth on edge. He pushed himself faster, breaking the sound barrier and not caring about the boom that rattled windows for miles around.
"CLARK!" Annie's voice crackled through his comm. She was falling behind, couldn't match his speed. "What's happening?"
"I don't know!" He reached the compound's airspace and immediately spotted Alex crouched behind a van, hands over his ears. Ryan and Kara were hovering above the main gate, Kara's arms spread as if to shield Ryan from something.
Then he saw the house.
Or rather, where the house had been. The entire structure had been reduced to rubble, smoke and dust rising in a column that had to be visible from orbit. Bodies—some moving, most not—littered the grounds. Supes in torn costumes stumbled away from the wreckage, bleeding and dazed.
And in the centre of it all, standing in a crater where the living room used to be, was Soldier Boy.
The man looked worse than when Clark had last seen him. His skin had a grayish tinge, and there were dark veins visible beneath the surface. His chest still glowed faintly, that radiation pulsing in time with his heartbeat. But his eyes—those were what caught Clark's attention. They were empty. Hollow. The eyes of a man who had nothing left to lose.
At Soldier Boy's feet lay what was left of the TNT Twins. They'd been at the epicentre of the blast, and the two forces—their detonation and his radiation—had torn them apart at a molecular level. There was nothing left to save.
"Ben!" Another voice shouted from the rubble. Clark's x-ray vision picked out Butcher stumbling toward Soldier Boy, Hughie right behind him. Both were glowing with that familiar green tinge of Temp V. "Ben, it's done! They're dead! We need to go before—"
"Before what?" Soldier Boy's voice was rough. He didn't even turn to look at Butcher. "Before more of them show up? Let them come. I'll kill them all."
"That wasn't the deal," Butcher said, stopping a few yards away. "We find Payback. You get your revenge. Then we go after Homelander. That was the plan, mate."
"Fuck the plan." Soldier Boy finally turned. "You know what I've realised? They're all the same. All of you. Vought, Payback, The Seven, these degenerates hosting MY PARTY! You're all just animals pretending to be gods. And I'm done pretending I'm not better than you."
Clark landed between them and Soldier Boy. The impact cratered the ground, but he didn't care. He could feel the radiation emanating from Soldier Boy like heat from a furnace, could taste the wrongness of it in the air.
"It ends now," Clark said quietly.
Soldier Boy looked at him. Really looked at him. And something flickered in those empty eyes. Recognition. Understanding. "You."
"Me," Clark confirmed. "You killed Crimson Countess. The TNT Twins. How many more, Ben? How many more before you've had enough?"
"I don't know." Soldier Boy's voice was honest, which somehow made it worse. "As many as it takes."
"Takes for what? They can't bring back the years you lost. Can't undo what was done to you." Clark took a careful step forward. "I know what Payback did. I know they betrayed you. But this—killing everyone connected to your past—it won't fix anything."
"It'll make me feel better."
"Will it?" Clark gestured to the carnage around them. "Do you feel better now? Standing in a pile of corpses?"
For a moment, just a moment, something human flickered across Soldier Boy's face. Doubt. Maybe even regret. But then it was gone, buried beneath decades of pain and rage.
"Get out of my way, kid. This isn't your fight."
"It became my fight the moment you killed someone, when you murdered those Super Dupers, when you hurt Diana and Kimiko. When you made everyone afraid." Clark's eyes hardened. "I am giving you a chance, surrender, you'll face punishment for your crimes, but we will get you help."
"Then we're gonna have a problem." Soldier Boy's chest began to glow again. "Because I'm not done. And you can't stop me."
"No," a new voice said from above. "But we can."
Kara descended like an avenging angel, Ryan carefully held in one arm. She set him down gently behind Clark before stepping forward to stand beside her cousin.
"Soldier Boy," she said formally. "I am Kara Zor-El of the House of El. You have committed murder. You have threatened innocent lives, and taken others. I order you to stand down and face judgment."
Soldier Boy looked at her for a long moment. Then he laughed. It was an ugly sound. "Another one? How many of you freaks did they make?"
"I am not made," Kara replied coldly. "I am Kryptonian. As is my cousin. And together, we will stop you."
"Kara," Clark said quietly. "I thought you were with Zod."
"I was. But I made a choice, Kal-El. The same choice you made years ago." She looked at him, and Clark saw nothing but sincerity in her eyes. "To stand with Earth. To protect its people, not abandon them. My uncle can leave if he wishes. But I will not. Not while you need me."
Something tight in Clark's chest loosened. Just a little. "We'll talk about this later. Right now—"
Soldier Boy's chest flashed. "Enough talking."
The pulse erupted outward. Clark and Kara both crossed their arms, bracing against the wave of radiation. It washed over them like acid, burning and clawing and trying to unmake them at a cellular level. Clark gritted his teeth against the pain, felt his knees start to buckle.
Then Kara grabbed his hand.
Instantly, the pain lessened. Not gone, but manageable. Their shared Kryptonian physiology somehow was helping them resist together better than apart. Clark squeezed her hand and stood straight again.
"Together?" he asked.
"Together," Kara confirmed.
They moved as one. Clark went low, Kara went high. Both hit Soldier Boy simultaneously, and for the first time since his resurrection, the man actually went down. He crashed into the rubble, carving a trench through the debris.
"Now!" Butcher shouted from somewhere behind them. "While he's down!"
But Soldier Boy was already getting up. And his chest was glowing brighter than before.
"Oh hell," Hughie whispered.
The second pulse was stronger. Wider. It caught everyone in a fifty-foot radius. Clark felt his skin burn, felt his powers flicker. Beside him, Kara screamed—a sound of pure agony that made his heart stop.
Behind them, Butcher and Hughie both collapsed, the Temp V in their systems unable to protect them from this. Further back, Ryan fell to his knees, clutching his head.
The only one left standing was Soldier Boy. And his chest was still glowing.
"I told you," he said, his voice distorted by the energy building inside him. "You can't stop me. None of you can. I'm the only real hero this world ever had. The only one strong enough to do what needs to be done."
"And what's that?" Clark gasped, forcing himself to stand. "Kill everyone?"
"If that's what it takes."
The energy was building. Clark could see it, could feel it. This next pulse wouldn't just hurt. It would kill. Everyone in range. Butcher. Hughie. Ryan. The surviving supes who were too weak to run. Maybe even Kara.
Maybe even him.
He couldn't let that happen.
Clark gathered every ounce of strength he had left. Pushed through the pain. Through the radiation burns. Through the feeling of his powers being stripped away. He launched himself at Soldier Boy, grabbing the man around the waist and driving him backwards.
They crashed through the compound wall. Through the outer fence. Into the field beyond. Clark kept pushing, kept flying, putting as much distance as he could between Soldier Boy and everyone else. The energy in Soldier Boy's chest was reaching critical mass. It was going to explode any second now.
"Let go!" Soldier Boy roared, trying to shake Clark off.
"No."
"You'll die, you idiot!"
"Maybe. But everyone else will live."
For just a moment, Soldier Boy stopped struggling. Stopped fighting. And in his eyes, Clark saw something he hadn't expected.
Respect.
"You really are something, kid," Soldier Boy said quietly. "Shame we're on opposite sides."
"It's not too late to—"
The explosion cut him off.
The radiation erupted from Soldier Boy's chest at point-blank range. Clark felt it tear through him, ripping apart his cells, unmaking him at a fundamental level. The pain was beyond anything he'd ever experienced. Beyond description. Beyond comprehension.
But he didn't let go.
He held on, even as his vision went white. Even as he felt himself dying. Even as every atom in his body screamed at him to let go, to fly away, to save himself.
He held on. Because that's what heroes did.
That's what the S meant.
Hope. Even in the face of certain death.
The world went white. Then black. Then nothing at all.
(TNT Twins' Compound - Moments Later)
Annie finally arrived to find Hell.
The compound was gone. Just... gone. A crater roughly the size of a football field marked where it had been. Bodies were scattered everywhere—some moving, some not. The few supes who were still conscious were fleeing in every direction, too traumatised to do anything but run.
"Oh god," she whispered. "Oh god, oh god, oh god—"
"ANNIE!" Hughie's voice. He was on his knees near where the gate had been, the green glow of Temp V still visible under his skin but fading fast. "Annie, we need help! We need—"
A streak of red and blue caught her eye. Clark, carrying Soldier Boy, had flown nearly a mile away before the explosion. But now...
Now there was a second crater. A smaller one. And in it, two figures lay unmoving.
Annie's heart stopped. "No. No, no, no—"
She flew to them faster than she'd ever flown before. Landed hard enough to crack her ankles, but didn't care. Dropped to her knees beside Clark's smoking form.
"Clark? CLARK!" She grabbed his shoulders, trying to shake him awake. "Come on, you don't get to do this! You don't get to die on me! CLARK!"
Kara appeared beside her, looking barely better than her cousin. Her costume was scorched, her face pale, but she was moving. She pressed two fingers to Clark's neck, searching for a pulse.
"He lives," she said, relief clear in her voice. "But barely. The radiation... it damaged him severely. We need to get him to sunlight. Yellow sun radiation is the only thing that can heal this kind of injury."
"Then we move him," Annie said immediately. "We get him somewhere sunny and—"
"No." The voice was weak. Pained. But undeniably alive. "Not... not done yet."
Annie looked down. Soldier Boy was moving. How was he moving? The explosion should have at least knocked him out. But he was already pushing himself to his feet, skin cracked and bleeding but somehow still functional.
"Oh come on," Annie breathed. "What does it take to stop you?"
"More than you've got, doll." Soldier Boy took a staggering step toward them. "Move aside, girl. This ain't your fight."
"Like hell it's not." Annie stepped between him and Clark, her hands beginning to glow. She knew it wouldn't be enough. Knew her power was nothing compared to Soldier Boy's radiation pulse. But she'd die before she let him hurt Clark.
"Annie, no!" Hughie shouted from behind. He was running toward them, stumbling, clearly at the end of his Temp V boost. "You can't—"
A blue and white figure blurred past him. Kara, moving at super-speed, intercepted Soldier Boy with a devastating punch to the jaw. The impact sent him flying backwards, tumbling across the scarred earth.
"You will not touch them," Kara said, her voice cold. "You will stop this madness, or I will stop you."
Soldier Boy laughed. Actually laughed, blood streaming from his mouth. "You? Stop me? Lady, I'm Soldier Boy who the fuck are you"
"As I said, I am Kara Zor-El." Kara's eyes began to glow red. "And you will find I am not so easily killed."
Soldier Boy's chest began to glow in response. The two of them stared each other down, power building, both preparing to unleash everything they had.
This is it, Annie thought. This is where everything ends. Either Kara wins and saves us all, or Soldier Boy wins and kills us all. There's no middle ground. No compromise. Just survival or death.
She looked down at Clark's unconscious form, at the rise and fall of his chest that was barely visible. Thought about Hughie, about Ryan, about all the people who were counting on them. Thought about the League they'd tried to build, the dream of something better than Vought's corruption and power.
It couldn't end like this. It couldn't.
But she had no idea how to stop it.
A sonic boom shattered the moment. Everyone's heads snapped up as a new figure descended from the sky, cape billowing, face fixed in a cruel smile.
"Well, well," Homelander said, landing between Kara and Soldier Boy. "Looks like I missed the party."
The situation, somehow, had just gotten worse.
(Sam Lane's Safehouse - Unknown Location - 6 Hours Earlier)
Diana Prince didn't knock. She kicked the door in, the reinforced steel bending under the force of her blow, even with her powers gone. The guards inside reached for their weapons, but she was faster, disarming them with brutal efficiency that came from decades of combat training.
"WHERE IS HE?" she roared.
"Stand down!" one of the guards shouted, but his voice trembled. Even depowered, Diana Prince was terrifying.
"I SAID, WHERE IS HE?"
"I'm right here."
Sam Lane emerged from a back room, completely unruffled by the chaos. He looked at the broken door, the disarmed guards, Diana's furious expression, and simply nodded.
"I was wondering when you'd show up," he said calmly. "I assume you want what I think you want."
"You're goddamn right I do. You fucking sent us there you owe ME!" Diana grabbed him by the collar, slamming him against the wall. "I helped release him! Soldier Boy killed three of my kids. And now he's out there, walking free, while I'm stuck in this useless meat bag that can't even lift a car."
"So you want V," Lane said. Not a question. A statement.
"Not just V. Pure V. The original formula. The one that gave me my powers in the first place, before Vought diluted it and turned it into the shit they sell today." Diana's grip tightened. "And I know you have it. I know you've kept samples from the original trials. I know you've been studying it, trying to figure it out."
Lane's one good eye studied her. "You know what it'll do to you. Your body's already been exposed. The second dose... there's no predicting the outcome. You could get your powers back. You could die. Or you could turn into something worse than Soldier Boy."
"I don't care."
"You should. Because even if it works, even if you get your powers back..." Lane's voice was soft, almost gentle. "I'll have to kill you one day. You understand that, right? You'll be too dangerous. Too powerful. I'm not stopping until they are all gone, you understand, yes?"
"Then you kill me." Diana released him, stepping back. "But not until after I kill Soldier Boy. That's the deal. Give me back my powers, let me end that monster, and then you can do whatever you think is necessary."
Lane was quiet for a long moment, studying her with that calculating gaze that had made him one of the most dangerous men in the intelligence community. Finally, he nodded.
"Alright. But we do this my way. Controlled environment. Medical supervision. And if things go wrong—if you start turning into something we can't control—I pull the plug. Literally."
"Fine."
Lane gestured to one of the guards.
"Get Dr Chen. Tell her to prep the lab." He looked back at Diana. "This is going to hurt. A lot."
"Good," Diana said grimly. "I could use the distraction."
(TNT Twins' Compound - Present)
Homelander's arrival changed everything and nothing simultaneously. He stood between Kara and Soldier Boy like a referee at a boxing match, that trademark smile plastered on his face, but his eyes—those cold, calculating eyes—were taking in every detail.
"So this is the famous Soldier Boy," Homelander said, turning to look at the older supe. "America's first superhero. I was told stories about you when I was a kid. Said you were the standard. The template for everything that came after."
"Homelander," Soldier Boy said, and something complex crossed his face. Recognition? Curiosity? "Vought's golden boy. The one who replaced me."
"Replaced you? Oh no, no, no." Homelander's smile widened. "I didn't replace you. I exceeded you. You were the prototype. I'm the finished product."
Annie felt Hughie come up beside her, both of them instinctively positioning themselves between the supes and Clark's unconscious form. Ryan had appeared too, looking terrified but determined not to run.
"We need to get Clark out of here," Annie whispered. "Before this turns into—"
"Too late," Hughie breathed.
Soldier Boy's chest was glowing again. Not bright—he was clearly exhausted from the previous blasts—but still dangerous. "You know what? I'm getting really tired of people telling me what I was. What I am. What I'm supposed to be." His eyes locked on Homelander. "How about I show you what I can do?"
"Please," Homelander laughed. "You're from the 1980s. You probably can't even figure out how to use a smartphone. What makes you think you can—"
The pulse hit Homelander square in the chest.
For a moment, nothing happened. Homelander just stood there, looking down at his chest where the radiation had struck, then back up at Soldier Boy with an expression of genuine confusion.
"Was that supposed to hurt?" he asked.
Then his knees buckled.
"What—" Homelander's voice cracked. He clutched at his chest, his face going pale. "What did you—I can't—my powers—"
"Yeah," Soldier Boy said darkly. "That's what it feels like. Having everything taken away. How's it feel, golden boy?"
Homelander's eyes went wide with panic—real, genuine terror that Annie had never seen on his face before. He tried to fly, but only managed to lift a few inches before crashing back down. Tried to use his heat vision, but nothing came out.
"No," Homelander whispered. "No, no, no, this isn't—I'm Homelander! I'm—I'm the world's greatest superhero! You can't—"
"I just did." Soldier Boy started walking toward him. "And now? Now I'm gonna do what should have been done years ago."
Annie saw it happening. Saw Soldier Boy raising his fist, saw Homelander too weak to defend himself, saw a killing blow about to land. And despite everything—despite knowing what Homelander was, what he'd done, the people he'd hurt—she couldn't let it happen. Not like this. Not as an execution.
Her hands lit up. "Soldier Boy, STOP!"
The blast of light caught him in the side, sending him stumbling. It wasn't strong enough to hurt him, but it broke his focus. He turned to look at her, and the expression on his face was one of pure disbelief.
"You're defending him?"
"I'm not defending him," Annie said, her voice shaking but steady. "I'm stopping you from murdering someone. There's a difference."
"I've already killed plenty today, sweetheart. One more won't make a difference."
"Yes, it will," Kara said, stepping forward. Her eyes were still glowing red, but her voice was calm. Controlled. "This is execution. Not justice."
"The hell do you know about justice?" Soldier Boy spat. "You're one of them. One of these freaks pretending to be heroes while the world burns."
"You are right," Kara said, and the admission seemed to surprise everyone, including Soldier Boy. "I do not know much about justice. I was raised as a soldier. Trained to follow orders. To see the world in terms of missions and objectives." She took another step forward. "But my cousin taught me something. That power without restraint is not strength. It is tyranny."
"Save the speech," Soldier Boy growled. "I'm ending this. One way or another."
He turned back to Homelander, chest beginning to glow again. But before he could take another step, Butcher was there, Temp V still coursing through his system, putting himself between Soldier Boy and his target.
"Ben," Butcher said quietly. "We had a deal, mate. We take down Payback. Then we go after Homelander. Together. Not like this."
"Get out of my way, William."
"Can't do that." Butcher's jaw was set, his eyes going to Ryan softening. "You want him dead? Fine. So do I. But not like this….not in front of the boy."
For a long moment, Soldier Boy stared at Butcher. Then he laughed—that same ugly, bitter sound. "You're a real piece of work, you know that? You hate him more than anyone. Spent years trying to kill him. And now you're protecting him?"
"I'm NOT!," Butcher said, his eyes flashing with rage as he looked at Clark and Ryan. "I'm protecting those that don't deserve to get caught up in our shit."
Something flickered in Soldier Boy's eyes. Something almost human. But then it was gone, buried beneath decades of pain and rage and betrayal.
"Move," he said coldly. "Or I go through you."
Butcher didn't move.
Soldier Boy's chest flared. The pulse was building, faster this time. Stronger. He was going to release it at point-blank range. Kill Butcher and Homelander both.
"NO!" Hughie screamed.
The pulse erupted.
But it never hit Butcher.
Kara moved faster than anyone could track. One moment she was ten feet away. The next she was behind Soldier Boy, her fist driven completely through his chest.
The world seemed to freeze.
Annie's hands flew to her mouth. Hughie stumbled backward, eyes wide with shock. Ryan made a sound like a wounded animal. Even Butcher looked stunned, staring at the bloody fist protruding from Soldier Boy's sternum.
"What..." Soldier Boy's voice was barely a whisper. He looked down at the hole in his chest, at the Kryptonian fist that had punched clean through his body. "What did you..."
Kara withdrew her hand slowly. Soldier Boy collapsed to his knees, blood pooling beneath him. She stood over him, her face completely calm. Composed. As if she'd just completed a routine training exercise.
"It had to be done," she said simply. "He would not stop. Would not listen. And more people would have died."
"Kara..." Annie couldn't find the words. "You just... you killed him."
"I ended a threat." Kara looked at her, and there was no emotion in those blue eyes. Just cold calculation. "That is what soldiers do. What I was trained to do. Eliminate threats to the mission. Protect the objective. Save lives," She glanced down at Soldier Boy's body. "He gave me no choice."
"There's always a choice!" The shout came from behind them. Clark, somehow, impossibly, was on his feet. He looked like death warmed over—skin pale, costume charred, moving like every step caused him agony. But his eyes were blazing with fury. "You didn't have to kill him!"
"Kal-El—" Kara started.
"Don't." Clark's voice was sharp enough to cut. "Don't you dare try to justify this to me. You punched through his chest. Through his heart. That wasn't stopping a threat. That was an execution."
"He was about to kill William Butcher," Kara said, her calm starting to crack. "Was I supposed to let that happen?"
"You could have disarmed him! Knocked him out! Restrained him!" Clark was advancing on her now, and Annie had never seen him this angry. Not even when Homelander killed his mother. "There were a dozen other options, Kara. A dozen ways to stop him without killing him."
"He was too dangerous to be kept alive." Kara's voice was defensive now. "You saw what he could do. The radiation. The destruction. How many more would have died if I had hesitated?"
"So you get to decide?" Clark demanded. "You get to be judge, jury, and executioner? That's not heroism, Kara. That's not what the House of El stands for."
"Don't you dare! You know fragments of history, culture of our HOUSE! What I did is acceptable under all our laws and traditions, including our own houses!" Kara's composure was finally shattered. "What would you have had me do, cousin? Let him kill Butcher? Let him kill Homelander? Let him keep destroying until someone else died stopping him? I made the hard choice. The Kryoptian choice. The choice you were too weak to make!"
The words hung in the air like poison.
Clark stared at her. "Get away from me."
"Kal-El, I have chosen you over Zo—"
"I said GET AWAY FROM ME!" The roar was loud enough to rattle what was left of the compound walls. "You want to be a soldier? Fine. Go back to Zod. Go back to following orders and killing whoever you're told to kill. But don't stand there and pretend you're a hero. Don't you DARE wear that symbol and call yourself family."
Kara looked like she'd been slapped. "I... I was trying to help. I thought—"
"You thought wrong." Clark's voice was ice. "A real hero finds another way. Always. Even when it's hard. Even when it seems impossible. That's what makes us different from them." He gestured to Soldier Boy's body. "That's what makes us better."
"Better?" Kara's voice went deadly quiet as her eyes narrowed at him. "Or just weaker?"
"If mercy is weakness, then I'll take weakness over strength any day."
Kara opened her mouth. Closed it. Looked down at her blood-covered hand. At Soldier Boy's body. At the faces staring at her—Annie's shock, Hughie's horror, Ryan's fear, Butcher's unreadable expression. She took a step towards Ryan, who recoiled away from her.
"I..." She swallowed hard. "I should go."
"Yeah," Clark said quietly. "You should."
Kara lifted off slowly. Hovered for a moment, as if waiting for Clark to call her back. To say something. Anything.
He didn't.
She flew away, a white streak against the darkening sky. Within seconds, she was gone.
Annie moved to Clark's side, steadying him as his legs started to give out. "Clark, you need to rest. You're still hurt—"
"I'm fine," he said, but his voice was hollow. He looked at Soldier Boy's body. "Is he... is he really dead?"
Butcher knelt beside Soldier Boy, checking for a pulse. After a moment, he shook his head. "Yeah. He's gone. Kara put her fist straight through his ticker. Nothing survives that."
"Good," Homelander's voice rasped from behind them. He was on his feet now, powers slowly returning. "Good riddance to bad rubbish. That psycho nearly killed me."
"Shut up," Annie snapped. "Just... shut up."
Homelander looked at her, then at Clark, then at the devastation around them. For once, he seemed to read the room. He took off without another word, flying unsteadily toward the horizon.
"We need to secure the area," Hughie said, his voice shaky. "Call in the Bureau. Get medical teams for the survivors. And we need to... to deal with the body."
"I'll handle it," Butcher said. He was still kneeling beside Soldier Boy, and there was something complicated in his expression. "He was a right bastard. Killed dozens. Maybe more. But he didn't deserve to go out like that. Not executed. Not from behind."
"No one deserves that," Clark said softly. He looked at Annie. "I need to sit down. Before I fall down."
She helped him to a relatively intact section of wall. Ryan appeared with a bottle of water from somewhere, and Clark drank gratefully. Around them, Bureau agents were finally arriving, along with medical personnel and cleanup crews.
"What happens now?" Ryan asked quietly. "With Kara?"
"I don't know," Clark admitted. He looked exhausted. Defeated. "I thought... I thought she'd changed. Thought she'd chosen Earth over Zod. But she's still a soldier. Still following that Kryptonian training."
"She saved Butcher's life," Annie pointed out gently. "Soldier Boy was going to kill him."
"She executed a man from behind." Clark's voice was flat. "There's no justifying that. She crossed a line."
"A line you've never crossed," Annie said. "Because you're you. But Kara... she's not you, Clark. She wasn't raised by Martha and Jonathan. Wasn't taught those same values. She's trying, but—"
"But she is what she is." Clark closed his eyes. "And now Soldier Boy is dead. And I have to live with the fact that I couldn't save him. Couldn't find a way to stop him without it ending like this."
"This isn't on you," Hughie said firmly. "Soldier Boy made his choices. So did Kara. You did everything you could."
"Did I?" Clark looked at them. "Because it doesn't feel like it."
Before anyone could respond, Butcher let out a sharp curse. "Bloody hell. Clark. CLARK!"
They all turned. Butcher was backing away from Soldier Boy's body, his face pale.
"What?" Clark struggled to his feet. "What is it?"
"He's... he's fucking moving."
Annie felt her blood run cold. That was impossible. No one survived having their heart destroyed. Not even supes. It was physically impossible.
But Soldier Boy's fingers were twitching. His chest—the gaping hole where Kara's fist had punched through—was beginning to close. Not healing normally. Not regenerating like a typical supe.
The wound was filling in with something. Something white and hard and bone-like.
"Oh god," Hughie whispered. "What is that?"
Soldier Boy's eyes snapped open. He sucked in a gasping, rattling breath, then slowly, impossibly, pushed himself to his feet. The hole in his chest was completely sealed now, covered over with what looked like exposed bone. Smooth. White. Glistening in the fading sunlight.
He touched the healed wound, fingers running over the bone-like surface. Then he looked up at all of them, and the expression on his face was beyond anything human. Beyond rage. Beyond pain.
Beyond sanity.
"Guess I'm harder to kill than she thought," he said, his voice wrong somehow. Distorted. As if it was coming from somewhere deep inside him. Somewhere dark and terrible and best left alone.
His chest began to glow. Brighter than before. Hotter. The bone-like patch pulsing with that sickly green radiation.
Annie grabbed Hughie. Clark grabbed Ryan. Butcher just stood there, frozen, staring at the monster they'd created.
"Oh," Soldier Boy said, that terrible smile spreading across his face. "Now things get interesting."
And as the sun set over the ruins of the TNT Twins' compound, as the survivors scattered and the heroes prepared for what came next, one thing became absolutely, terrifyingly clear:
It was only the beginning