For the rest of the day, Ryan stayed hidden like a ghost inside Homelander's new office.
He watched wave after wave of company executives, security chiefs, and PR hacks rush in and out.
With his super senses, he listened with amusement as his cheap father put on a flawless performance — playing the part of the furious, grief-stricken leader, swearing to avenge his fallen colleagues in front of everyone.
He listened as Homelander smoothly steered every clue and suspicion toward Hughie Campbell, the poor electronics salesman who had dared to challenge Vought after his girlfriend's tragic death.
He listened as Homelander righteously promised Madelyn that he would hunt down this "terrorist" and the organization behind him, delivering justice for the dead heroes.
The whole thing played out like a perfectly rehearsed stage show, and Ryan was the only audience member, quietly watching from the shadows.
He watched the strongest beast on the planet follow the script he had written the night before, executing every line without a single mistake.
It wasn't until deep into the night, when all the noise finally died down, that Homelander sent everyone away and returned alone to the temporary office.
The fatigue and anger on his face disappeared in an instant. What replaced them was a complicated look — equal parts anticipation and unease.
He walked over to one wall, passed through three layers of iris and fingerprint scans, and opened a custom safe built into the wall.
From inside, he carefully pulled out a sleek silver metal briefcase.
He set the briefcase on the center table, then spoke into the empty air:
"Come out."
The light twisted. Ryan's small figure appeared out of thin air. He hopped lightly off the sofa and walked over to the table.
Homelander entered the password and popped the case open.
Inside, resting on black velvet, lay a dozen crystal-clear syringes arranged in neat rows.
Each one contained a mysterious liquid that glowed with an eerie blue light — pure temptation mixed with danger.
This was the source of all Vought's sins and all its glory.
Compound V.
"Use it carefully," Homelander's voice was complicated. He looked at Ryan's young face, and a flicker of real concern showed in his eyes.
"This stuff is getting harder to come by. There isn't much left in stock."
He paused, clearly trying to find the right fatherly tone.
"It's not like out here. If you run into any trouble you can't handle, contact me right away. I don't want to see you get hurt."
"I will, Dad."
Ryan's answer was short and clear. A sweet, naive smile sat on his face as he smoothly closed the briefcase and picked it up.
That smile gave Homelander a small bit of comfort, easing the unease he had felt from his son's coldness earlier.
Then Ryan's body turned invisible again. He quickly left the fancy cage under Homelander's complicated stare.
The hunter was now loose.
Ryan flew silently through the night sky over New York City, the cold wind rushing past his unseen body.
He hovered high like a circling nighthawk, looking down at the massive, messy city glowing with countless lights below.
He knew that because of the shocking massacre at Vought Tower yesterday, the whole company — and even the official forces in New York — had gone into full lockdown mode.
In the original plot, Hughie's plan to sneak into Vought Tower and plant listening devices was now completely fucked.
But that wouldn't stop Ryan.
He never liked sitting around waiting for the plot to happen. He preferred to be the one writing it.
Using the detailed memories he had taken from The Deep about Hughie's girlfriend Robin, he easily located Hughie's apartment in Brooklyn.
He hovered invisibly right outside the window, quietly watching the young man drowning in grief and pure hatred.
He watched Hughie replay videos of Robin over and over, and he watched him punch the wall in helpless rage.
Soon, another target came into view.
A man in a loud Hawaiian shirt, face covered in stubble and smelling like cheap whiskey and gunpowder, knocked on Hughie's door.
Billy Butcher.
Seeing these two future core members of The Boys meet up like this, a hungry predator's smile spread across Ryan's face.
He decided to step in personally and give them a hard shove forward.
He followed the pair, listening as they argued fiercely. He watched Butcher use his crude, inflammatory bullshit to completely set Hughie's revenge on fire.
He trailed them as they left the apartment, moved through the streets of New York, and finally reached a quiet alley he remembered from the TV show.
Ryan knew the moment had come.
He was about to put on a "good show" for them right here — one they would remember for the rest of their lives and one that would make them understand reality real fucking quick.
The alley was dark, damp, and stank of garbage mixed with piss.
"Oi, so you in to show these cunts that we small folk aren't that easy to fist fuck?"
"Y-yeah.."
Hughie and Butcher were deep in conversation, planning their next move.
Hughie was still lost in his revenge fantasies while Butcher tried to hammer into him just how brutal this war really was.
Just then, a small figure slowly stepped out from the shadows at the entrance of the alley.
Ryan didn't bother with invisibility. He appeared as a seven-year-old boy in clean casual clothes, calmly blocking their path.
"What are you two talking about? Sounds interesting."
He asked with a clear, childish voice and a sweet smile.
Butcher's reaction was lightning fast. The second he saw Ryan, he reached into his jacket, yanked out a pistol, and aimed it straight at the weird kid who had just appeared out of nowhere.
"Who the fuck are you, little cunt?"
But the next second, Butcher's pupils shrank hard.
Ryan's figure had already flashed in front of him at a speed he couldn't even process.
He only felt a sharp pain in his wrist before the Glock he was gripping tightly was effortlessly snatched away.
Then, under the completely shocked stares of both Butcher and Hughie, Ryan held the pistol with his two small hands.
Like crumpling a piece of trash paper, he casually crushed the high-strength steel gun into a twisted lump of scrap metal.
"You want to challenge Vought with this toy?"
Ryan tossed the mangled piece of metal onto the ground with a sharp clang.
Butcher's heart sank right along with it.
But Ryan wasn't here to kill them today. He was here to play teacher.
With the lazy attitude of a cat toying with mice, he started his "lesson."
He swayed once and instantly appeared in front of the still-stunned Hughie.
A light punch sent the skinny young man flying backward. Hughie slammed hard into the wall and dropped unconscious.
"Hughie!"
Butcher roared and charged forward, fists flying.
Ryan dodged every single powerful, deadly swing like he was taking a casual stroll in the park.
He looked at this battle-hardened tough guy with zero emotion in his eyes.
After completely playing with him, Ryan seemed to get bored.
He stopped dodging.
Instead, he stepped straight into Butcher's punch and met it head-on with his own small fist.
Bang!
A dull thud rang out. Butcher let out a painful groan as his entire arm bent backward at a sick, unnatural angle. The bones were completely shattered.
Ryan didn't let up. He pressed forward with raw, overwhelming power and beat the famously tough bastard into the ground.
Butcher finally collapsed like a sack of wet mud.
Throughout the whole beating, Ryan never once used Homelander's signature powers — no heat vision, no flight. Pure physical strength was more than enough to crush them.
After pounding both men until they were bruised, bloody, and completely unable to fight back, Ryan finally stopped.
He slowly squatted down and looked at Butcher, who was sprawled on the ground, coughing up blood but still glaring with pure defiance and hatred.
In his soft, childish voice, Ryan spoke the coldest, cruelest words possible.
"You think you can take on Vought with this level of strength? How fucking pathetic. Go on. Let me see how far you can get."
"If you actually manage to escape, I'll even give you a little reward."
After he finished speaking, Ryan stood up, stopped looking at them, and slowly walked into the dark end of the alley. His small figure quickly vanished.
He had let them go on purpose — letting them run away carrying the crushing fear and deep powerlessness he had just beaten into them.
He wanted them to understand exactly how strong and how impossible the enemy they were facing really was.
A few minutes later, Butcher forced himself up. He glanced at the unconscious Hughie, then at the direction where the kid had disappeared. For the first time, real dread filled his eyes.
He dragged his badly injured body, helped Hughie up, and the two of them stumbled and supported each other toward an old beat-up car parked nearby.
After they drove off, Ryan's invisible figure reappeared in the shadows at the alley entrance. Like a real ghost, he silently followed their car.
He watched the car weave through the streets of New York until it finally stopped in front of a rundown, unremarkable underground entrance in a slum area.
Ryan knew exactly where they were.
This was Frenchie's "rat's nest."
Butcher and Hughie limped inside the underground room.
Ryan, still invisible, quietly landed on the rooftop across the street.
He pulled out one of the Compound V syringes from the briefcase in his arms. The liquid inside glowed with an eerie blue light under the moonlight.
A playful, devilish smile curled at the corner of his lips.
The main cast was almost all gathered.
And he, the hunter, had just prepared the first "gift" for these little mice who were about to become his test subjects.