The top floor of Vought Tower sat in a strange, suffocating silence.
Ryan's final "unqualified" comment stuck in Homelander's chest like an invisible thorn.
His brain was still reeling from the bombshell that this was a natural-born supe who was made by him.
On top of that, the kid's condescending, almost judging attitude pissed off Homelander's arrogant god complex hard.
But that displeasure got crushed flat by a much stronger, brand-new curiosity.
He wanted to know everything about this boy, about Becca, about the seven years he'd missed.
While Homelander wrestled with his own thoughts and his face kept shifting through emotions, Ryan started the performance.
He pulled back the sharp edge that had just stared down a god. The cold adult indifference quietly drained from his ice-blue eyes.
In its place came a look full of sad memories, fear, and confusion, exactly what a seven-year-old should show.
He hugged his arms tight like a kid who just woke up from a nightmare, desperately trying to hold onto some ghost of safety.
"I always lived in a white room."
Ryan's voice stayed soft and flat, like he was talking about someone else's life.
That numb tone somehow hit harder than any screaming accusation ever could.
"The walls were always pure white. The air always stank of disinfectant.
Every day a bunch of people in white coats came to see me. They called themselves 'researchers.'"
His eyes drifted off toward the distant night sky, unfocused, like he was staring straight back into that seven-year cage.
"They ran all kinds of 'tests' on me.
Sometimes they drew blood. Sometimes they hit me with weird lights. Sometimes they blasted loud, ugly noises to mess with my mind.
It hurt so much and I was terrified. I cried and screamed for Mama, but they never gave a damn."
Homelander listened in silence, his arms tightening across his chest without him realizing it.
Every scene Ryan described sent a familiar, needle-sharp sting through him.
"They always told me it was to protect me. That the outside world was too dangerous."
Ryan lowered his head, letting a tiny tremble slip into his voice.
"But the way they looked at me wasn't like I was a person. It was more like I was some expensive item.
Cold. No warmth at all. Just calculating how much I was worth."
For a guy who used to play millions of viewers like a fiddle back in his old life, this performance was effortless.
He nailed every word, every tiny shift in his face, painting the perfect picture of a pitiful kid locked up and treated like a lab experiment.
And for Homelander, every single sentence felt like mental torture.
Just as his emotions were completely hooked and burning hatred for those "researchers" filled his chest,
Ryan lifted his head and asked the most damning question in a soft, innocent voice that almost sounded cruel because of how lost it seemed.
"Mama said Vought Company didn't let us meet because they wanted to protect us... But… Dad, why didn't you come see me?"
"I.."
"You're Homelander! The most powerful superhero! Then why? Do you… not want me as your son?"
Boom!!!
Those words hit like a mental nuke going off.
They slammed straight into Homelander's deepest, softest, and most painful scar.
Not want?
How the fuck could he not want him!
He himself had grown up in a cold fucking lab with no parents, treated like nothing but an experiment, stripped of any real family.
His biggest dream his whole life was to have an actual family of his own. Real blood. Real affection. Someone who belonged to him and only him.
He craved being loved. Being needed. Having someone who actually got him, who could share both his glory and his loneliness.
And now he had a son.
A real biological son. Natural-born. Same blood.
But this boy had suffered the exact same lonely, painful childhood he did.
Vought!
It was Vought again!
They had secretly locked his son away behind his back!
They stole his right as a father and robbed Ryan of the dad he should have had!
An overwhelming rage, mixed with betrayal and his own old scars, slammed into him and wiped out every bit of reason.
This time the fury wasn't aimed at Ryan.
It was aimed straight at the giant machine that created him and then lied to his face for years.
Vought!
"How fucking dare they!?"
"I am Homelander! How dare they imprison my son!?"
A low, suppressed roar tore out of Homelander's throat. A terrifying aura exploded across the entire top-floor office.
The red glow in his eyes flared bright again. Scorching heat warped the air around him. The thick bulletproof glass screamed under the pressure, seconds away from shattering.
He was ready to blast out right then and storm the boardroom, rip those hypocritical bastards apart one by one and make them explain why the fuck they thought they could do this.
But just as he was about to lose it completely, a small hand gently tugged at his star-spangled cape.
"Dad, don't be impulsive!"
Ryan's voice wasn't loud, but it carried a calm that sounded way too old for a seven-year-old.
Homelander whipped around.
What he saw were Ryan's clear eyes, sharp with intelligence that didn't belong on a kid's face.
"What can you even do if you go to them right now besides tip them off?"
Ryan looked straight up into Homelander's rage-filled eyes.
"And then what? Let them know you've found me and give them plenty of time to cook up ways to mess with both of us?"
Those words hit like a bucket of ice water dumped straight onto Homelander's burning anger.
Ryan kept going, way too mature for his age, laying it out fast and sharp.
"Vought managed to hide you for over twenty years and then turned you into the biggest superhero on the planet. That proves their power and their tricks are way stronger than you think.
They control the media. They control the government. They control every part of your life.
Right now it's just the two of us. Charging in head-first would be stupid!"
Homelander went quiet.
He had to admit the kid was right.
No matter how strong he was, he still had things holding him back.
When he saw Homelander's rage starting to cool off, Ryan knew it was time to slip a leash called "Revenge" around that fire.
He looked straight at Homelander, eyes burning with the kind of expectation and crazy loyalty a son should have for his father's legacy. His voice turned passionate.
"Give me a little more time, Dad! Let my body grow up a bit more. Let me get perfect control over my powers!
When I'm as strong as you, or even stronger than you, then the two of us, father and son, will take back everything Vought stole from us, with interest, every last bit!
I'll make them pay in blood for every year they kept me locked up!"
Every single word landed right where it hurt most in Homelander's chest.
It fed his hunger for revenge.
It calmed his violent temper with the sweet picture of father and son teaming up to reclaim their empire.
Most important, it painted a brand new future for him, one where he wasn't alone anymore. A future with a real heir to carry on his divine legacy.
At the same time, it bought Ryan the most valuable thing he needed right now: time to grow stronger while staying low-key.
During that growth period, he still had Homelander, the undisputed top combat power in the entire Boys world, watching his back.
Homelander's anger finally drained away. The scarlet glow in his eyes faded back to cold ice-blue.
Reason moved back from his knees to his head. And blood moved back from his dick to his brain.
He stared at this "son" who spoke so smoothly, thought so clearly, and had just played his emotions like a goddamn fiddle.
Wait...
The warning bell that had gone quiet in Homelander's head suddenly started screaming again.
Had he really just been led around by the nose by a seven-year-old kid?
The boy's logic was flawless.
His plan was sharper than anything Vought's top strategists could come up with.
Was this… normal?
Could a seven-year-old really talk like that?
Homelander thought it over and decided he couldn't stay this passive.
This kid was too mysterious. Too smart.
Smart enough to make him feel a flicker of real unease.
So he forced on a smile he figured looked "kind" and "loving."
He opened his arms and slowly pulled Ryan into a hug, playing the perfect father.
"Good… my good son. Dad will listen to you."
His voice dripped with a tenderness he'd never shown anyone before.
But the second they embraced, his right index finger moved faster than the eye could catch.
He discreetly plucked a few strands of golden hair from the back of Ryan's neck and clenched them tight in his palm.
He needed ironclad, scientific proof.
A paternity test.
He wasn't about to swallow this "coincidence" just because the kid said so and had similar powers.
After all, if Vought could cook up a Homelander with Compound V, whipping up another one shouldn't be that hard.
He had to know for sure.
Was Ryan really his son?
Or a clone copy of himself raised the same as him?
At the exact same moment, Ryan's body stiffened slightly when the hair got yanked.
Of course he felt it.
With his senses right now, he could notice a single speck of dust landing on him.
He instantly knew exactly what his cheap old man was thinking.
But he didn't say a word. Didn't resist.
He just let the hug happen.
He even pressed his small face into Homelander's chest, like a kid who'd finally found someone to lean on.
Because Ryan understood something important.
For a paranoid, insecure, batshit-crazy bastard like Homelander, words and acting could always have cracks.
Nothing would kill the last bit of doubt better than a DNA report showing 99.99% match.
That report would be the unbreakable, science-backed contract between them.
The official "father and son" seal.
And for the next stretch of time, it would also make Homelander his strongest fucking backer. Kekeke~
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Tell me your views and ideas. I think this- "Good… my good son. Dad will listen to you."- was a little off, so please tell me how I could improve.