"John, you deserve your own life."
"If I run, Vought probably won't value you anymore."
"Once I'm gone, you can leave this hellhole!"
"Live the life that should've been mine!"
"Because we're brothers!"
Scenes suddenly flooded Homelander's mind—Fang Yuan sacrificing himself back then, all for his sake. They were the deepest, most painful, yet most beautiful memories in his heart!
But that was over thirty years ago, and Vought had erased every record of Fang Yuan. Apart from the memories in his head, Homelander didn't even have a single photo of him.
That didn't mean Homelander would forget Fang Yuan.
Not only was Fang Yuan's existence vital to Homelander, but later, to mentally control John, Vought—following Voughtbaum's advice—cultivated his extreme need for love after Fang Yuan's departure, ensuring Homelander could never forget him.
Homelander remembered every moment with Fang Yuan, so of course he knew Subject 071 was Fang Yuan's code name!
"Big brother?" he murmured.
Homelander released A-Train, hurriedly opened the file, and skimmed until he spotted—
"Subject 071 remains un-awakened."
"Subject 071 current status: alive."
Frantically he hunted for the date—five years old. At least five years ago, his big brother had still been alive!
Of course, this Subject 071 might not be Fang Yuan at all, just a coincidental code.
But Homelander knew exactly whom to ask.
Clutching the report, he flew straight back and landed again at Voughtbaum's estate.
"Boom!"
This time Homelander wasn't polite, slamming down hard and carving a crater into the lawn.
"That was my new turf."
Voughtbaum rushed out, frowned, and grumbled when he saw it was Homelander.
Homelander slapped the file A-Train had found straight into Voughtbaum's face, fury in every word: "Explain this."
Voughtbaum caught it, studied it, then sighed heavily. "I knew you'd find out one day."
Homelander's eyes reddened instantly. "So… it's true?"
Voughtbaum nodded. "You haven't told Vought, have you?"
"No." Homelander's voice caught. "Just give me the damn truth."
"After the lab explosion, we all thought Fang Yuan was dead," Voughtbaum said, and Homelander's gaze glazed over.
It had been years since he'd last heard anyone speak Fang Yuan's name aloud.
He listened with absolute focus.
"But when I checked the ruins days later, Fang Yuan's figure appeared—he didn't even know his own body could regenerate."
"Though his body healed, he never woke. I secretly tried everything—couldn't rouse his mind."
"His case was too unique, so I hid it from Vought. Later it became one of Predel's funded projects."
"Once Predel moved all those projects, I never saw Fang again."
Exactly the comeback Fang Yuan had scripted for himself.
With Voughtbaum as guarantor and a dead shareholder to take the blame—and the Black King precedent—both Homelander and future Vought could accept Fang Yuan's resurrection.
"Why… why didn't you tell me?"
Homelander's voice cracked with sobs.
"Given how much Vought values you, I thought it better you didn't know. Fang Yuan still hasn't awakened; it would only deepen your resentment." Voughtbaum spoke plainly.
"Do you know where my big brother is?" Homelander pressed.
"Where in Arizona have you looked? Been to San Carlos?" Voughtbaum asked, candid, as if truly helping.
Homelander shook his head, so Voughtbaum revealed, "There's a cold-storage facility outside San Carlos—Predel's most important lab. If he's nowhere else, he's probably there."
"Predel's been dead five years, so…" Worry choked Homelander; he couldn't finish.
Five years. If Fang Yuan hadn't woken and no one tended him, he'd have long since… cooled.
Fang Yuan, naturally, had arranged for that.
"Fang's physiology is special: keep electricity flowing and his body maintains itself, though the place is likely occupied by Predel's old mercenaries now," Voughtbaum added.
"Mercenaries? I'm going—now!"
Homelander spun to leave, but Voughtbaum quickly blocked him.
"Think it through: if Fang resurfaces in Vought's sights, he'll instantly become their number-one target—because of you," Voughtbaum warned earnestly.
Homelander pondered, then declared resolutely, "This time, I'll protect my big brother!"
He turned to Voughtbaum. "Because you saved him, I forgive your silence."
With that, Homelander shot skyward—yet his course wasn't toward Arizona, but toward New York.
Homelander figured Voughtbaum was right—simply rescuing Fang Yuan wasn't enough; he had to make Vought accept Fang Yuan completely!
What was that about hunting Black King's weaknesses? Homelander had long since forgotten it.
He tracked down Ashley, the woman in charge of marketing for The Seven—basically their agent.
"What? Change the location for this live op?"
"This…""
Ashley was about to object, then realized the request hadn't come from A-Train or Deep, but from Homelander himself.
Homelander was Vought's most valuable asset, far above her pay grade.
So she asked carefully, "The op's already locked in. If you want to hit criminals in Arizona, we could tape it or… maybe next time?"
Ashley kept smiling, hoping to talk Homelander out of it without ruffling any capes.
Vought's livestreams were basically big outdoor stage plays; even the "criminals" were hired actors. If they were real crooks, they were pre-vetted to make sure nothing went sideways.
Last-second location swaps like Homelander wanted were accidents waiting to happen.
If something blew up, it was Ashley's head on the chopping block.
Homelander's mouth crooked into a grin. "What do you think?"
"I think…" Ashley's smile beamed brighter, "we'll do exactly what you say!"
She could yell at the rest of The Seven, but Homelander?
Try it and die—literally.
"How bad could one livestream go?" Ashley told herself.
Two days later, Homelander's stream kicked off.
With more followers than anyone else at Vought, his broadcast drew millions of households.
About the location change, he brushed it off: "We're here to fight crime. Announcing the spot ahead of time isn't fighting crime. What's that phrase?"
"Ah, right—bait and switch."
On camera, his smile was warm enough to recharge your phone.
Homelander had honed an instinct for snapping into the corporate-approved persona the second the red light blinked on.
Viewers swallowed his explanation without a hiccup.
With camera drones overhead, Homelander flew toward a cold-storage warehouse outside San Carlos, the production crew hustling behind.
At last the target warehouse slid into frame.
"Wow, a freezer. Know what that makes me think of?" His face lit up. He put a finger to his lips and stage-whispered, "A drug lab."
"Am I right? Feels like it."
Still beaming, he waved it off. "Kidding, kidding—how many drug labs could there be?"
"But just to clear their good name, let's take a look." He grinned.
The second he turned away from the lens, his smile froze solid and cracked off.
As they neared, Homelander's ears caught racket inside the warehouse—then a squad burst out, spraying bullets like champagne at a wrap party.
"Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!"
Homelander leapt in front of the cameraman, soaking every round.
"Can't let my pro shooter get dinged." He clapped the cameraman's shoulder on cam, nearly reducing the guy to happy tears.
That's Homelander for you—always on-brand.
"Looks like this freezer's definitely dirty," he muttered.
That was the criminals' Death sentence.
Homelander rocketed sky-high, then dove straight at the gunfire.
"Boom!"
The sound of cinderblock—and bodies—shattering.
He went lethal. In ten seconds flat every gunman was down, then he ushered the cameras inside.
No one resisted anymore; Homelander had already deleted the resistance.
Naturally, the gory bits never aired—Vought's shooters were pros. They filmed how vicious the "Terrorists" were, then cut to Homelander tossing them like ragdolls.
How badly the bodies splattered off-screen? No lens lingered on that.
If it wasn't on camera, Homelander couldn't be called cruel.
Inside the warehouse he uncovered evidence—not of drugs, but of black-market organ trafficking.
So far, the stream was a slam-dunk.
Ashley, who'd been holding her breath, finally exhaled.
"Hold up."
On the feed, Homelander cocked his head, hearing something behind the wall.
"There's more in here…"
His tone carried an odd note of hope.
"Zzzzzzz!"
He lanced the wall with Heat-Vision, revealing what looked like a cryo-pod tucked behind it.
"Looks like we're rescuing a victim!"
Homelander declared, pre-packaging the story for the audience.
Vought's cameramen, scenting a headline, crowded in to film the "victim" inside the pod.
A very young, strikingly handsome Chinese man.
Homelander's body trembled; he bit back a shout, but inside, waves were crashing.
"Long time no see… big brother!"
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