Two days later and, honestly, everyone played their part exactly like you’d figure.
Butcher and Frenchie tracked down Popclaw.
They used the Compound V footage as a weapon—one threat and her entire world went up in flames.
They didn’t just threaten to spill her secret to Vought.
No, they went for the jugular: her career, her life, everything she cared about.
She caved almost instantly.
Gave them everything.
A-Train’s drop point, the whole smuggling routine—she was desperate to get out from under their thumb.
And, sure enough, Vought’s net started closing in.
You could feel it right away.
Meanwhile, it was just me, high up in that penthouse.
Eyes closed.
I listened to the city hum a hundred stories down.
You get weirdly good at picking up on things from up here—like the rage clinging to Homelander as he paced, each step like a thunderclap.
A-Train just stood there, terrified but trying to hide it.
“She talked, Reggie.” Homelander’s voice cut through the walls, low and lethal.
“She told outsiders about the V.
About you.” “John, I didn’t—” A-Train’s voice faltered.
“Don’t interrupt me,” Homelander snapped, his words snapping the air.
“You brought a liability into my house.
You risked everything because you couldn’t keep your mouth shut.” A-Train tried to salvage things.
“I’ll fix it.
I swear I’ll fix it.” “Oh, you will,” Homelander said, with that twisted, all-teeth smile in his tone.
“Clean it up tonight, or I’ll do it myself.
And trust me—you won’t like my methods.” A-Train knew he couldn’t argue, so he vanished—a blue blur, the room rattling in his wake.
I opened my eyes and just…steeled myself.
This was it.
Popclaw’s arc, right at its snapping point.
Tonight’s the night A-Train would sell his soul straight to Homelander.
I stood, suit cold and silent against my skin.
One quiet step off the balcony and the city swallowed me up.
Brooklyn now.
Popclaw’s place was dark—curtains drawn, apartment silent.
A-Train beat me there by two minutes, slipping in the window like a ghost.
I landed on the fire escape.
Waited in the darkness.
Watched.
Inside was a nightmare.
A-Train already had Popclaw pinned.
She was sobbing, mascara streaming, begging him.
“Reggie, please!
They would have gone to Vought, ruined everything—” “You ruined it, Charlotte!” He was shaking.
He hated every second, but Homelander’s shadow kept him locked in.
Then came the syringe.
Not V—heroin this time.
He was about to stage an overdose.
Enough to kill an elephant.
“I’m so sorry,” he choked, rolling back her sleeve, searching for a vein.
“If I don’t do it, he’ll kill me.
He’ll kill us both.
This is the only way.” Popclaw shut her eyes, screaming, as he lifted the needle.
He never got the chance.
I moved—didn’t even bother with the window.
Air pressure alone shattered it.
Before a single shard hit the floor, I had my hand wrapped around A-Train’s wrist.
He froze, syringe hovering.
He tried to push, but I might as well have been a mountain.
“Drop it,” I said.
He looked up, saw the white suit, and went pale as a ghost.
“Invincible,” he croaked.
“Just let go.
You don’t understand—Homelander—” “I heard everything.” My voice was cold enough to shake the building.
I squeezed.
Not hard, but enough.
His bones snapped like twigs.
A-Train howled and dropped the syringe.
I flung him off Popclaw—he slammed into the wall and hit the ground, clutching his arm.
Popclaw scrambled into the corner, knees hugged tight, staring at me like I was a fever dream.
I stepped through broken glass and stood over A-Train.
“Homelander didn’t send you here to ‘fix’ anything,” I said.
“He sent you here to destroy yourself.” A-Train blinked, lost.
“What?” “Homelander knows how weak you are.
You need V.
If you kill the woman you love, he’ll own you forever.
You’d be his lapdog—he’d never let you forget.” Silence.
You could actually see it—every word cutting apart whatever bullshit story A-Train believed.
“I didn’t have a choice,” he whispered, tears running down his face.
“He’ll kill me.” “He won’t,” I said.
“Because he’ll think she’s already dead.” I turned to Popclaw.
She flinched.
“Charlotte,” I said, “Popclaw dies tonight.
You pack a bag, drive to the safehouse upstate.
No calls, no agents, nothing.
You’re with me.” She nodded frantically, almost dizzy with relief.
“Yes.
Yes.
Please.” Back to A-Train.
“You’re going to the Tower.
Tell Homelander she’s at the bottom of the East River.
Cinderblocks, all that.” A-Train trembled.
“He’ll know.
He can hear heartbeats—he’ll know if I lie—” “He hears fear, Reggie.
You’re terrified right now.
Let him hear it.
He’ll believe you’re broken.
That’s just what he wants.” I grabbed his collar, hauled him up close.
“You pay the V-tax to me now,” I kept my voice low, deadly.
“You get to keep your legs.
Your girl.
Homelander’s the mascot—I’m the one building the game.
You work for me.
Understand?” He stared back at me, heart hammering.
He saw it—I wasn’t some hero swooping in.
I was the apex predator, and his fate was sealed.
“I get it.
I work for you,” he whispered, torn between relief and terror.
“Good.
Go.” He blasted out the window, looked back at Popclaw one last time, and vanished into the night.
Silence settled.
Popclaw disappeared into her room, already throwing things in a bag.
Right on cue, reality bent—the System burst to life, numbers and blue light everywhere.
[CRITICAL CANON FRACTURE DETECTED.] [A-Train’s Moral Event Horizon Averted.] [Homelander’s Psychological Control Severed.] [Hidden Asset Acquired: Charlotte ‘Popclaw’.] Everything spun.
Saving one life—and I’d cut Homelander’s favorite puppet string.
[Calculating Rewards…] [Reward: 40,000 System Points.] Gold letters.
[Current Points: 72,500.] Massive haul.
Vought had no clue how deep the rot went or who was pulling out the guts.
Popclaw came back, duffel in hand, wild-eyed.
“Let’s go,” I said.
I put a hand on her shoulder, hit the gravity drive, and we launched into the night.
The canon was bleeding out now—and, this time, I was the one holding the knife.