At noon in central Manhattan, a figure covered in hard silver metal suddenly dropped from the sky, smashing onto the asphalt road and forming cracks that spread like a cobweb.
Despite experiencing such a heavy crash, the figure was unexpectedly still capable of moving. Struggling to get up, it roared at the surrounding crowd. Invisible shockwaves spread in all directions, shattering the windows of cars parked along the sidewalks, scattering debris on the ground. The once bustling crowd fled in fear, screaming, with some even suffering broken eardrums and bleeding.
In this moment of sudden disaster, a commanding voice resonated from the sky.
"There is no need to fear, citizens! I am here, and I am here to save you all!"
If you were to look upwards at that instant, you would see a man floating in the air, arms akimbo.
He had a handsome face and a perfect body, adorned in a blue tight-fitting costume covered with eagle-like scales, complemented by an ornate golden waistband. He wore red gloves and boots, with a sculpted golden eagle on his shoulders, and a cape resembling the national flag. As he hovered in the air, his cape waved with the wind.
Some of the fleeing pedestrians caught sight of him and immediately wore expressions of adoration and relief, as if they had already escaped danger. Others pulled out their phones to capture the scene, and his name could be heard being called out all around.
"Homelander! Homelander!"
Homelander soared in the sky, as composed as if he were attending a press conference, gracefully waving to the crowd with a smile.
"Alright, it's time to get to work," Homelander said with a grin.
He flew like lightning to the top of the metallic figure's head, kicking it into the air, then swiftly followed its trajectory to land a crushing blow. The metallic figure was defenseless, repeatedly struck by blue lightning in mid-air, its outer metal covering breaking into fragments and falling away. At one point, it could no longer withstand the intense assault, and blood and bits of internal organs spewed from its mouth.
Homelander, treating the metallic figure like a toy, grabbed its head, and both of them hovered in the air.
By then, the silver metal that had covered the metallic figure's face had almost entirely peeled away, revealing a bruised and swollen face. He appeared to be of college age, struggling slightly, tears flowing from his eyes as he felt the pressure of the hand gripping him.
"Please," he said, "let me go..."
Homelander's face was filled with a cheerful smile, his white teeth gleaming, and his golden hair shining in the sunlight. "I'm truly sorry, but I'm a hero. I never forgive crime."
With a "pop", the metallic figure's head shattered like a watermelon, red flesh and white brain matter mixing together, dripping continuously to the ground.
Homelander casually discarded the corpse, flicking the blood off his gloves, and called out to the crowd with a smile, "As long as I'm here, as long as this great nation never surrenders, evil will never triumph over justice. Because I am Homelander!"
The crowd's frenzied cheers rose like waves, one stronger than the last. Homelander gave them a final wave, then, with a tremendous whooshing sound, soared into the heights.
Vought International is a giant American corporation that rose to prominence in the 19th century. It boasts over two hundred active superheroes under its banner, and its branded products and various cultural phenomena have become a worldwide sensation, generating tens of billions in net profit each year.
Among these superheroes, the most famous and widely recognized are the world-renowned seven individuals, known as "The Seven," led by Homelander. They enjoy lofty prestige and the adoration of the world. Every film in their themed series rakes in hundreds of millions of dollars at the box office, and along with the sales of related merchandise and various endorsements, each member has brought tens of billions of dollars in revenue to Vought International.
It's an era that worships heroes.
Homelander stood with arms crossed in the conference room on the ninety-ninth floor of Vought Tower, looking out through the floor-to-ceiling windows when someone, clutching files, pushed the door open and paused, startled to see him.
"Uh, I thought you were out..."
"Fighting crime, yes." Homelander turned slightly, his cape swaying. "It was a simple matter, a guy who looked like he stepped out of 'The Wizard of Oz', able to turn his skin into metal. I've taken care of him, although there was a minor mishap. I accidentally dropped him on a street in Manhattan. But I turned it into a good thing. Now the internet is filled with videos of me taking down a supervillain. My approval ratings will surely rise again, and there were no casualties. Isn't that something to be happy about?"
"I thought Queen Maeve was supposed to be teaming up with you. Where is she?"
"Ashley, are you questioning me?"
Homelander turned his entire body, his handsome face expressionless, hands behind his back. The woman called Ashley looked taken aback and stammered, "No, not at all. I was just..."
"Ha, just kidding."
Homelander suddenly laughed, took a few steps closer to Ashley, raised his hand, and twirled his finger around his temple. "Maeve's got something wrong with her head, taking time off at home. I guess someone in her family died or something. If you ask me, this is when she should show some professionalism. We are superheroes! People depend on us to save them; we have our duties, not to act like children, treating our responsibilities as a game. Don't you think?"
Ashley pursed her lips and nodded, saying, "Yes, you're absolutely right."
She worked in the marketing department of Vought International, directly responsible for The Seven, but in front of Homelander, she could only be a yes-woman.
"Enough about me, why are you here?" Homelander asked, putting his hands behind his back again.
"Uh, I booked this room, remember? A-Train wants to do something about tracing his roots, saying he wants to make a documentary about the African savannah to awaken the ethnic pride of African Americans. So, we need to discuss the feasibility of this project here."
A-Train, like Homelander, was one of the members of The Seven. His ability was super speed, capable of running at a velocity of 371 meters per second, making him the fastest man in the world.
"African Americans," Homelander muttered, "It's so absurd. Why can't they just be called black people? Everyone knows they're black people. Because they're very black! Conversely, white people can be called white people, but black people have to be called by another name. Sometimes humans are so foolish it leaves me speechless."
Cold sweat broke out on Ashley's forehead, and after a moment's hesitation, she said, "You can't say that in public, no matter what..."
"I know, do you think I'm an idiot?"
Homelander sighed, turned his back, and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, waving his hand at Ashley, "Tell A-Train that this idea is not approved. He's a superhero; all he needs to do is run fast, not be some damned ambassador for ethnic image."
"Alright, I'll pass on the message."
Ashley finally looked a bit more relaxed, planning to leave the conference room with her documents in hand. But just before leaving, she seemed to suddenly remember something and said to Homelander, "Maybe you should go greet our new hero."
"New hero?"
"After Lamplighter left The Seven, we selected the newest member of The Seven through auditions. She's a little girl from Iowa with a Christian background. You should know about her because there's news about her all over the internet. Of course, you might have been too busy..."
"Get to the point!"
Ashley's eyelid twitched, and she immediately sped up, "I just think maybe we should show Vought's welcoming attitude towards this new hero, and also showcase the bond between The Seven. The public loves this kind of storyline."
"Is she pretty?" Homelander suddenly asked.
"...I'm sorry, what?"
"I asked you, is she pretty?" Homelander turned back to look at Ashley.
Ashley nodded repeatedly as if something had stimulated her, "Yes. Yes, I think she's very pretty."
"Then I'll reluctantly show this new hero the bond between The Seven." Homelander said, smiling. His handsome face sparkled in the light streaming in from the floor-to-ceiling windows. "What's her superhero name?"
"Starlight. She's called Starlight."
After Ashley left the conference room, Homelander stood motionless in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows. Behind him were the long conference room tables and chairs, marble pillars, a row of monitors, and stone statues of The Seven's members carved on the walls.
He was silent for a long while before suddenly exhaling sharply and then bursting into laughter.
"Now that Starlight has joined The Seven, it means the plot is beginning, hmm... what should I do? Continue to play Homelander?"
His super-vision took in every detail of the clouds drifting in the distance, every feather on the wings of passing birds, and his super-hearing could even detect the curses from a passenger spilling coffee on themselves on a plane flying through the clouds.
His body was brimming with power, a mere wave of his hand could cause a sonic boom, a far cry from his previous bloated and empty state.
Although reincarnating wasn't rare in webnovels, how many had the fortune to become a god among men? The feeling of omnipotence was simply intoxicating.
So now what he only needs to worry about was the possibility of being killed as the antagonist.
"I still remember the memories of my previous life, but I've almost forgotten the plot of 'The Boys'. Is this a side effect of my reincarnation?" Homelander mumbled to himself. "Anyway, I still know the names Hughie and Butcher. They are my mortal enemies. If I kill them, I'll have nothing to worry about."