Chapter 92: Chapter 92: Homelander (Bonus Chapter)
The press briefing room on the seventy seventh floor of Vought Tower was a cathedral built for corporate worship, but today, it had been transformed into a mausoleum. The usual bright lights had been dialed down to a somber glow.
The massive digital screens that flanked the stage, usually looping triumphant montages of superhero endorsements and cinematic trailers, were locked onto a single image: the Vought crest, cast in mournful shadows, draped with a digital black ribbon.
The podium at the center of the stage was bare wood, stripped of its usual flashy corporate branding.
The room was packed. Over three hundred journalists, reporters and camera operators were crammed shoulder to shoulder, but the silence was absolute.
The heavy velvet curtains at the back of the stage parted.
Homelander stepped out.
The sound of a hundred camera shutters clicking in rapid succession sounded like a swarm of mechanical locusts. Flashbulbs strobed, washing his face in staccato bursts of white light.
He walked slowly, his posture rigid. His immaculate blue suit was pristine, the gold eagles on his shoulders polished to a mirror shine, but his American flag cape hung still.
His jaw was clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes, usually a vibrant blue, looked hollow with a faint redness that spoke of a man who had spent the night staring into an abyss.
It was the performance of a masterpiece of sociopathic mimicry.
Homelander reached the podium. He placed his gloved hands on the wooden edges, gripping the lectern tightly. He lowered his head, staring down at the polished wood for a long minute. The cameras kept clicking.
When he finally looked up, he made sure the primary network cameras had a perfect view of the single tear tracing a path down his cheek.
"Yesterday," Homelander began, his voice a raspy whisper. He cleared his throat, leaning closer to the microphone. "Yesterday, the world woke up to a nightmare."
He paused, letting the tremor in his vocal cords resonate through the massive speaker system.
"We, The Seven..." He stopped, shaking his head slowly, closing his eyes as if the words themselves were physical blades cutting his throat. "My family. My brothers. My sisters. They are gone."
A collective gasp rippled through the press corps. They had heard the rumors, the leaks and the wild internet speculations. But hearing the invincible Supe confirm it out loud shattered the last illusion of safety in the room.
"Queen Maeve. Black Noir. A-Train. Deep. And our brightest light... Starlight." Homelander recited the names slowly, imbuing each one with a heavy gravity. "They were murdered."
The room erupted into a cacophony of shouted questions, journalists surging forward against the velvet ropes.
"Homelander! Who is responsible?!"
"Was it the Z-Drug cartel?!"
"Is America under attack?!"
Homelander raised a single hand. The authority in the gesture was absolute.
The room instantly fell silent again, the journalists shrinking back.
"They were murdered," Homelander continued, his voice gaining volume, shifting from broken grief to a righteous anger, "by a radicalized faction of our own military. A faction that stole classified technology, a faction that allied themselves with a ghost from the past... a Russian brainwashed weapon of mass destruction that we all thought was buried in the Cold War."
He gripped the podium harder, the wood groaning faintly under the pressure.
"This faction wanted to tear down everything we stand for. They wanted to replace the heroes you love with programmable monsters. And when my team, when my family discovered their plot in the Appalachian mountains... they didn’t wait for backup. They threw themselves into the fire."
Homelander looked directly into the lens of the center camera, speaking to the millions sitting in their living rooms, clutching their pearls.
"Maeve... She fought until her last breath, shielding the innocent with her own body. A-Train ran into the heart of the enemy lines to disarm their munitions. Deep held the perimeter against impossible odds. Noir... my oldest friend stood by my side and took the blade meant for me."
Homelander’s voice cracked perfectly on the last syllable. He bowed his head, letting another tear fall. He had punched a hole straight through Noir’s chest, but the lie tasted sweeter than the truth.
"And Starlight," he whispered, a tragic smile touching his lips. "She drew the enemy’s fire, sacrificing her own radiant light so that others might live."
He looked up, his eyes blazing now with the manufactured fire of a patriot demanding vengeance.
"They faced a nuclear detonation. And they took the brunt of it. They absorbed the blast to save the cities beyond the valley. They gave their lives... so that you could keep yours."
He let the silence hang.
Several reporters in the front row were visibly weeping, wiping their eyes with the backs of their hands.
"I am the only one left," Homelander said, his voice dropping to a low register. "I have lost my family. But I promise you this..."
He leaned into the microphone, his blue eyes boring into the soul of the nation.
"Their sacrifice will not be in vain. I will carry the weight of The Seven on my shoulders alone. I will hunt down every last conspirator and every last radical who seeks to harm this country. You are not unprotected. I am here. I will always be here."
He stepped back from the podium. He turned, his cape dragging heavily on the floor and disappeared back through the velvet curtains.
...
Within four minutes of the broadcast concluding, the internet became a global monument to grief.
Stan Edgar’s meticulously crafted narrative, delivered through Homelander’s flawless sociopathic performance, hit the global consciousness like a psychological superweapon.
On VoughtFace, the social media platform dominated by the company, the timelines were a scrolling river of black squares and crying emojis.
@RealPatriot99: I can’t stop crying. Maeve was my hero. She was so strong. They literally took a nuke for us. #RememberTheSeven #HomelanderIsOurShield
@IowaGirlFan: Annie 😭😭😭She just wanted to help people. She was too pure for this world. The military needs to be dismantled for this! Treason! #StarlightsSacrifice
@SpeedsterKicks: A-Train went out like a king. Running into the fire. RIP to the fastest man alive. ⚡️💔
On Reddit, the political subreddits were a raging inferno of conspiracy and misplaced anger.
Vought’s bot farms had seeded the narrative perfectly, fanning the flames of anti-military sentiment.
u/TruthSeeker45: Think about it. The government has been trying to pass the Supe Military Bill for a year now. What better way to prove they don’t need Supes than by building their own secret army and killing The Seven? Homelander just exposed the deep state!
u/VoughtStockBro: If you aren’t buying Vought stock right now, you’re an idiot. Homelander just became a living martyr survivor. He has a 100% approval rating. It’s a tragedy, but financially? It’s the biggest bull run in history.
u/DeepThoughts: Pour one out for Deep. He gets a lot of hate, but he stood the line. Ocean man went out on dry land fighting terrorists. Respect.
The hashtag #WeAreWithHomelander reached three billion impressions in under an hour.
Digital artists were already churning out speed paintings of The Seven standing against a glowing green mushroom cloud, angelic halos hovering over their heads.
The public turned their fear of the unknown into a fanatic devotion to the sole surviving Homelander.
The television news networks were no different. Objective journalism had been entirely eclipsed by performative mourning.
