“Listen.”
“Someone is still calling for help.”
Lynn’s voice was like a precision-guided bomb, detonating deep inside Homelander’s mind just as he was ascending to the heights of godhood.
The smile on Homelander’s face froze in that instant.
Of course he heard it.
That faint weeping, buried beneath steel and concrete, was crystal clear to his super-hearing.
At the same time, Ashley’s panicked shrieks rang out through his earpiece.
“Homelander! Don’t listen to him! That’s not in the script!”
“The west side! Go to the west main building! The cameras, lighting, and rescued actors are all ready there!”
“Repeat, stick to the protocol! The east service corridor has been declared a total collapse. It has no rescue value!”
On one hand was the promise he had just made to the entire world: “As long as I hear even one more cry for help, I will not leave.”
On the other hand was Vought International’s cold, indisputable command: “Stick to the protocol.”
Under the monitoring of Lynn’s super-hearing, Homelander’s heart began to beat with an ominous, violent, and erratic rhythm.
He felt as though he were back in that cold laboratory.
Those white-coated researchers had used that same emotionless tone, commanding him to “follow protocol for the test” and “avoid unnecessary emotions.”
He had thought he had become a god, looking down upon all living things.
In the end, he was still just a puppet on a string.
Just as the sanity in his eyes was about to be consumed by rage, Lynn’s voice drifted in once more over the private channel, light as a feather.
“They are telling you what to do again.”
These seemingly ordinary words were like a bucket of high-octane gasoline poured directly onto the volcano of Homelander’s impending eruption.
In the next second, hundreds of millions of viewers watching the live broadcast worldwide witnessed a scene they would never forget for the rest of their lives.
Homelander, the eternally perfect, eternally smiling savior, slowly raised his hand in front of all the cameras and ripped the communication device from his ear.
Then, right before the cameras, he crushed that tiny earpiece—the symbol of Vought’s control—into pieces inside his palm.
*Crunch…* This story is hosted at g.com.
That sharp, brittle sound echoed across the globe through the on-site microphones.
In the control center, Ashley’s screaming stopped abruptly.
She stared at the screen in disbelief, her face turning deathly pale.
“No…”
It was too late.
Homelander didn’t look at another camera.
He didn’t even bother to maintain his elegant flight posture.
Like a blue cannonball fired from a barrel, trailing a sharp sonic boom and carrying unstoppable momentum, he charged straight toward the eastern ruins—the area Vought had flagged as having “no rescue value.”
*Boom!*
Choosing not to bypass any obstacles, he used the most brutal, direct method possible, shattering a crumbling load-bearing wall with his own body.
Shards of rebar and concrete exploded outward.
The cameramen and reporters on site recoiled in terror.
Hovering above the entrance of the service corridor, which was already engulfed in thick smoke and raging fire, a terrifying red light flared in his blue eyes.
He didn’t search for survivors first; instead, he unleashed two brutal beams of heat vision, instantly melting the massive, tangled steel girders blocking the entrance in two!
Red-hot molten iron splattered everywhere, turning the entire rescue site into a scene straight out of hell.
He plunged into the ruins.
A few seconds later, amid a chorus of gasps, he walked back out.
Tucked under one arm was an unconscious man.
In his other arm, he cradled a young girl whose face was covered in soot, coughing violently from fear and smoke.
He had rescued the survivors.
But there was no joy on his face from saving lives.
As soon as the rescued man regained consciousness and saw his surroundings, he tightly hugged his daughter, his voice trembling with emotion and lingering fear.
“Oh my god… you really came…”
He looked at Homelander, then at the stunned firefighters and reporters around them, sobbing.
“They… they just said over the radio that this place was abandoned…”
“They said no one was coming…”
These words were picked up clearly by the on-site recording equipment and broadcast live to the world, word for word.
In the control center, there was dead silence.
Ashley went limp and slumped into her chair.
She knew everything was ruined.
Vought’s biggest scandal had been thoroughly detonated during their own grandest, most carefully planned live broadcast event.
On the stream, the live chat froze for a full three seconds before completely overwhelming the screen in an unprecedented, avalanche-like torrent.
[What did I just hear? Vought abandoned them?]
[So Homelander is defying Vought’s orders to save people?]
[Did he crush his earpiece because Vought told him not to save them?!]
[This is a real hero! To hell with the script!]
On the scene, Homelander slowly rose into the air, cradling the still-weeping little girl.
He didn’t comfort the girl, nor did he pay any attention to the reporters on the ground who had already whipped into a frenzy.
He simply turned his head, his gaze locking precisely onto Vought’s official live broadcast camera.
The anger on his face slowly receded, replaced by a cold, mocking, and provocative smile.
Then, looking into the lens, addressing every executive at Vought and the entire world, he softly asked that very question:
“Who says no one is coming?”