The Vought Archives were located in the sub basement, three levels below the parking garage. It was a labyrinth of filing cabinets containing the dirty laundry of seventy years of corporate malfeasance.
Homelander tore the steel door off its hinges.
He moved through the aisles with super speed, a blur of blue and red. He used his X-ray vision, scanning through the metal drawers, reading the labels on the folders at the speed of light.
1978... 1979... 1980.
He found the section.
Project: Chariot.
He ripped the drawer open, metal screeching. He grabbed a handful of files, his hands shaking.
He rifled through them, tossing papers into the air. Budget reports. Chemical analysis. Test subject fatalities.
And then he found it.
A single document stamped TOP SECRET.
Subject: Genetic Donor Protocol.
Donor: Benjamin.
Codename: Soldier Boy.
Recipient Sample: Batch 4 Alpha.
Result: Viable Embryo. Subject designation: John.
It was signed by Jonah Vogelbaum.
Homelander stared at the paper. The ink was faded, but the truth was indelible.
"John," he whispered.
He wasn't a test tube baby. He was a son. He had a father. A father who was the greatest hero who had ever lived.
A father who was alive.
He dropped the paper.
Vogelbaum knew. Edgar knew.
They had lied to him. For his entire life. They had deprived him of the one thing he had craved more than anything else: a family.
And there was one other person who had been around back then. One person who had served with Soldier Boy. One person who was still here, in the tower, playing the loyal dog.
Homelander's eyes began to glow.
…
The quarters of The Seven were quiet.
In his private room, Black Noir sat at a small Japanese whetstone, sharpening a combat knife.
Shhhk.
Shhhk.
Shhhk.
The rhythmic sound was meditative.
Two beams of intense red heat sliced through the lock and the hinges and the door fell inward with a heavy crash.
Homelander stepped into the room.
His face was a mask of eerie calm, but the air around him vibrated with a terrifying pressure.
Black Noir set the knife down and stood up, turning to face his leader. He tilted his head slightly, a silent question.
"You know what I realized?" Homelander asked, his voice soft.
He began to circle Noir, moving slowly, studying the masked figure like a predator inspecting a trapped animal.
"You're the only one who doesn't lie to me," Homelander said. "Everyone else. They all lie. They all have their agendas. They all wear masks."
He stopped behind Noir, leaning in close.
"But not you. You wear a mask, sure. But underneath it? You're loyal. You don't speak, so you can't lie."
Noir stood still, his posture relaxed, accepting the praise. He nodded once.
Homelander walked back around to face him. He smiled. He reached out and patted Noir on the shoulder. The impact was harder than a friendly pat should be.
"You're the only one I can trust," Homelander said. "Aren't you?"
Black Noir raised his hand slowly. He gave a thumbs up.
Homelander laughed. "See? You've always been there. Standing in the back. Watching."
"So tell me about Soldier Boy," he said. "You were on his team. What was he like?"
Noir paused. He seemed to hesitate. Then, he reached for a notepad on his desk. He scribbled a single word and held it up.
BAD.
Homelander stared at the word. "Bad," he repeated. "Come on. Nobody is all bad. He was a hero."
Noir shook his head. He wrote again, underlining the word.
BAD.
"He is my father," Homelander said.
The words hung in the air.
Noir wasn't surprised.
"I didn't believe him at first," Homelander whispered, stepping closer. "I ripped apart the company archives. And it's true…"
Homelander looked into the black lenses of Noir's mask.
"You knew," Homelander said.
Noir remained silent.
"You knew," Homelander shouted, his voice cracking. "You knew I had a father out there! Alive! This whole time!"
Tears began to well up in Homelander's eyes.
"You lied to me," he whispered, his voice trembling with a child's heartbreak. "My whole life. The one thing... the one thing I needed most. A family. Someone who could understand. And you kept it from me."
Noir took a step back. He raised his hands in a placating gesture. He picked up the pen again, writing frantically.
MUST KILL HIM.
Homelander looked at the note. He laughed, a sobbing sound.
"I'm not sure I want to," Homelander said. "It's funny, you know? Everyone thinks of you as this unreadable Sphinx. A mystery. But not me."
Homelander activated his X-ray vision. He looked through the black fabric of the mask.
"I see through that mask," Homelander whispered. "I mean literally. I can see your face. I can see the battle scars. That crooked smile of yours. I know when you're happy. I know when you're sad. I know when you're telling the truth."
He leaned in, his nose almost touching the mask.
"And I know when you're afraid."
Noir dropped the notepad. He tensed, his body preparing for combat.
"Did you know?" Homelander asked, tears streaming down his face. "Did you know he was my father?"
Noir stared at him.
"Fuck," Homelander sobbed. "Fuck! Why didn't you tell me?"
Homelander drove his fist forward with the crushing force of a hydraulic piston.
SQUELCH.
Homelander's fist punched through the Kevlar of Noir's suit. It punched through the skin, the muscle, the intestines and the spine. It exited out the other side of Noir's back, coated in dark blood and viscera.
Noir gasped. He looked down at the arm embedded in his gut. He looked up at Homelander.
Homelander was crying openly now, his face twisted in a rictus of grief and rage.
"You were the only one," Homelander wept. "You were supposed to be my friend."
He ripped his arm back.
Noir collapsed. He fell to his knees, clutching the gaping, ruinous hole in his stomach. Blood poured out onto the floor, pooling around his boots.
He looked up at Homelander one last time. He reached out a shaking hand, perhaps for help, perhaps for forgiveness.
Homelander stepped back, looking at the blood on his glove. He looked at the dying man who had been a silent fixture in his life for twenty years.
Noir slumped forward. His head hit the floor. He twitched once and then he was still.