The 99th floor of Vought Tower always smelled like ozone and money—which, if I’m honest, mostly meant overpriced cologne.
I leaned back against the glass wall in the conference room, arms crossed, just watching the show.
This had to be the most dramatic scene anyone in this place had ever performed.
Homelander sat at the head, A-Train way down at the other end.
No one else.
You could hear a pin drop—the kind of silence you get deep underwater.
Outside, it probably looked like a boring, everyday company meeting.
“I’ll admit it, A-Train—I had my doubts,” Homelander said, all soft and gentle.
He tapped his fingertips together, doing his best model-dad act.
“When I heard about the leak… the mess with that actress…
I figured you were finished.” A-Train looked like hell—big bags under his eyes, hands trembling, sweat bleeding through his jacket.
It wasn’t an act.
He was legitimately spooked, just not for the reasons Homelander thought.
“I took care of it, Homelander,” he whispered, eyes glued to the table.
“Like you told me.
It’s done.
She’s gone.” Homelander fixed him with that bored, dangerous stare.
“Look at me, A-Train.” Took a beat before A-Train looked up.
“Was it hard?” Homelander’s eyes searched for suffering—like he wanted to eat it.
“Yes,” A-Train said, his voice barely there.
“It was… the hardest thing I’ve ever done.” That’s when Homelander really smiled.
And that smile was way more disturbing than anything else in the room.
“Good.
That means there’s still something left in you.
But you did what matters.
You put us first.
I’m proud of you, A-Train.” He got up, circled the table, and dropped a heavy hand on A-Train’s shoulder.
Yanked him into this suffocating, awkward hug.
“Take the weekend,” he said, tapping A-Train’s cheek.
“Rest up.” A-Train just nodded.
“Thanks, John.” He slid past me on his way out, caught my eyes for half a second—just pure defeat in his look.
He knew I knew.
And he also knew what Homelander couldn’t see: Homelander wasn’t really in charge here.
I was.
I nodded, barely.
A-Train left without another word.
Homelander took a deep breath and stared out the window.
“Leadership’s a heavy load,” he muttered at the skyline, like he thought anyone cared.
“Push people to the edge, see what’s really inside.” Still trying to impress me.
Still hanging onto his throne with both hands.
“He’s loyal now,” Homelander said.
“He’d die for me.” “Sure looks like it,” I replied, keeping my face straight.
I didn’t bother with a goodbye.
I just walked out, left him there, rambling to no one about a victory he had no idea he hadn’t earned.
Sometimes it’s hard not to laugh at the guy.
The Viltrumite wasn’t exactly famous for humility, and watching him strut around was like watching an ant admire its own hill—totally clueless that the boot was already in the air.
Two hours north, upstate New York.
The safe house was just a forgotten cabin.
It belonged to the company, hidden so deep in the files nobody at Vought even remembered it.
Pines all around, and nothing but trees for miles.
I landed out front.
Silent.
I stepped inside and almost made Popclaw drop her mug.
It shattered on the floor.
She backed against the counter, swallowed up by an enormous sweater and absolute terror.
“I’m sorry!” she yelped, trying to recover.
“I’ll—I’ll clean it up.” “Leave it, Charlotte,” I said, walking through the glass shards.
I didn’t have to say much—my presence alone made the room heavy.
Her voice trembled.
“Is… is he looking for me?” “Homelander thinks you’re at the bottom of the river,” I said, sitting down.
“Follow my instructions and stay put, you’ll be fine.
It’s a quiet, long life.
Take it.” She squeezed her own arms tight.
“Why?
Why are you doing this?
You’re with them, you’re one of the Seven.
You could’ve just let him—” “You’re leverage,” I cut her off.
“As long as you’re alive, I control A-Train.
He follows my orders because he knows I can tell Homelander anything, any time.” She understood, right there.
She swallowed, hard.
“What do you need from me?” “Nothing.
Rest.
Stay off the grid,” I said, standing.
“If I need something, I’ll let you know.” I walked out onto the porch, left her in a room with only the wind for company.
Up in the air, halfway back to Manhattan, I checked my System.
[Current Points: 72,500.] The safe house was set.
The board was ready.
Now I just needed the foot soldiers in the city to stumble onto the right clue.
Back in the city, in a busted basement under a pawn shop— It reeked of cigarettes, spilled beer, and a kind of frustration that stuck to your skin.
Billy Butcher hurled a folding chair and it clanged off a pillar, metal bent.
“Bollocks!” he shouted, fists thumping the battered table.
“She’s a bloody ghost!
We had her—set up the feed, caught her cold—and now she’s gone.
Whole flat cleaned out.
Disappeared.” Hughie flinched in his seat, clutching his water bottle.
His eyes had that sleep-starved glaze, but hell, that was life these days.
“Maybe she just ran,” Hughie said, quietly.
“A-Train finds the cameras, threatens her…
she bolts?” “Vought doesn’t just let mistakes walk away,” Frenchie said, glancing up from his laptop.
“When their people disappear, it’s permanent.” “So, what then?” Butcher growled, fingers drumming the table.
“We’re back at zero?
No proof, no V, no witness?
Nothing?” “Non, mon ami,” Frenchie muttered, working at the keyboard.
Butcher stilled, eyes burning.
“What’ve you got?” “I cloned her phone—grabbed the router data,” Frenchie explained.
“Tracked every time A-Train connected to her Wi-Fi.
Matched it with transit data.
Even speedsters use burner phones.” He spun his laptop around.
A New York map, scattered with red dots.
“Every Thursday, after seeing Popclaw, he stops at Broad Street station.
Same phone, every time.
He could go anywhere, but always disappears underground.” Butcher leaned in, squinting.
“Why would a speedster take the subway?” Frenchie smirked.
“Deliveries.
Clockwork regular.” Hughie pushed his glasses up.
“What, V drops?” Butcher’s grin was all teeth.
“One way to find out.
Grab your gear, lads.
Broad Street’s our next stop.” The game was in motion.
The Boys thought they were closing in, following breadcrumbs they found themselves.
They had no idea that, up above, a certain white-caped god was just waiting for them to set the sparks.