As Homelander In Multiverse

A shadow emerged from the room, its very presence sending Edgar stumbling backward. Barely pausing to think, he barked a command: "Storm!"

Whoosh!

Suddenly, gale-force winds howled through the open windows, scattering papers across the room. The storm tossed documents into the air, slapping many of them against the black figure's armor like meaningless debris.

The figure turned its head toward the source.

Outside the building, the sky had turned ominously dark. Churning gray-black clouds loomed over the research facility, their edges laced with flickers of electricity.

Amid the thunderclouds stood a lone silhouette—a woman, judging by her figure.

Raising her arms, she summoned a storm of jagged lightning bolts, each the size of a truck tire, crackling with silver arcs that branched out like snarling serpents. The blinding flashes surged outward, converging into an irregular glowing mass in the center of the clouds.

From this vortex, a concentrated bolt of lightning descended, its sheer intensity scorching the air and vaporizing stray debris before the thunderous energy struck the research facility.

The bolt smashed through a window, shattering the glass in a fiery flash before it could even liquefy, turning instead into wisps of smoke.

Inside the room, Edgar and Dr. David dove for cover, crouching under a desk and cowering in the corners.

The lightning bolt narrowed further as it neared the black figure, transforming into a piercing blade of pure electricity aimed directly at its chest.

Yet, just before it could make contact, the blade stopped.

It hung mid-air, as if halted by an invisible wall.

The air in front of the figure twisted and warped, heat rippling outward. Then, with a boom, flames erupted, sending fiery waves outward. Files caught fire, walls cracked under the pressure, and shattered monitors spat plumes of smoke.

The lightning blade, dimmer now, pushed forward once more. It came within a hair's breadth of the figure but never touched it. A barely perceptible barrier separated the blade and its target, a gap so small yet unbreachable, like an infinite chasm between universes.

No matter how destructive the energy behind the bolt, it was meaningless if it couldn't strike.

As the bolt destabilized, its energy radiated outward in an explosive crescendo. Walls were scorched black, machines reduced to slag, and the ceiling above collapsed under the relentless bombardment.

Finally, with an ear-splitting boom, the entire room detonated.

Fire burst from every window on the floor, consuming everything in its path before sprinklers activated, dousing the blaze in desperate futility.

---

Amid the chaos, Edgar coughed violently. He reached up to remove his soot-covered glasses, only to realize he wasn't standing on solid ground.

Wind rushed past his face. Looking down, he saw the earth far below.

The black figure held Edgar and Dr. David by the collars as it descended, finally tossing them onto the charred grass like discarded trash.

The figure glanced skyward. The dark clouds had begun to dissipate, and the woman was nowhere to be seen.

"Quick on her feet," the figure remarked, voice smooth yet laced with icy disdain.

The figure's faceplate lifted, revealing a familiar, chiseled face.

Blond hair. Blue eyes.

Homelander.

Edgar's knees buckled, his body collapsing to the ground as his mind raced. "Impossible… this is impossible…"

"You like my armor?" Homelander asked with a mocking grin.

Edgar's gaze flickered to the sleek black suit—the Tyrant armor. Suddenly, it all made sense.

Back at the orphanage, when Homelander's powers were suppressed by the superpower inhibitors, he must have donned the armor.

But how? And why was he still alive?

Homelander answered the unspoken question.

"Your 'superpower inhibitors' are quite impressive," he began, his tone casual. "They suppress natural abilities—my heat vision, flight, and strength."

"But here's where you made your mistake." Homelander took a step forward, towering over the shaken CEO.

"My 'gifted' abilities, the ones derived from those talent capsules? They don't play by your rules. Your little invention doesn't know how to block what it doesn't understand."

"'Absolute Precision,' 'Replication'... all still fully operational." He paused, smiling coldly. "And of course, this."

Homelander tapped the disappearing edge of his armor as it dematerialized.

"I knew you wouldn't just leave everything to a bunch of amateurs," he continued. "So, I baited out your ace in the hole—Black Noir."

"I killed him."

Homelander's grin widened. "And then I used his phone to send you a little message. Did you enjoy it?"

Edgar paled. Of course. Black Noir had never spoken. The text messages… It all made sense now.

"Edgar," Homelander said softly, leaning in close. "Your confidence in this little scheme is cute. But you've underestimated me."

---

The Tyrant armor disappeared completely as Homelander stepped back. Edgar scrambled to his feet, desperate to placate the man who now held his life in his hands.

"Homelander, please… I made a mistake, a grave mistake! I'll make it right!"

"I'll give you all of Vought's shares—every last one! And I'll stay on to manage the company for you, free of charge."

Homelander raised an eyebrow, then gently placed a hand on Edgar's shoulder, a disarming smile on his face.

"Edgar," he said, his voice laced with amusement, "you're overestimating your worth."

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