The following day, I was summoned to a high-tech training facility deep within Vought Tower. It was a vast, sterile space, like a hangar designed for gods. And waiting for me in the center of the room was Homelander.
He wasn't smiling.
"So," he said, his arms crossed. "You handled the whistleblower. Mallory says you were… effective. Quiet."
"I did what was necessary," I replied, keeping my tone neutral.
"Necessary," he repeated, as if tasting the word. "That's a flexible concept, isn't it? But we're not here to talk about scared academics. We're here to see what you can really do."
He gestured around the empty space. "This room is reinforced with the same alloy we use for Black Noir's suit. You can't break it. So don't hold back."
This was it. The real test. He wanted to see my power firsthand. To gauge the threat I posed.
"What are the parameters?" I asked.
"Simple. Hit me with everything you've got."
The challenge was blatant. A display of dominance. He was the alpha, and I was the new dog being shown my place.
I didn't hesitate. I couldn't afford to show weakness.
I transformed into my Mazahs form, the black lightning crackling around me. I started with a concussive blast of telekinetic force, enough to shatter concrete.
Homelander didn't move. The force wave hit him and dissipated like a breeze. He didn't even blink.
"Is that all?" he asked, sounding bored.
I switched tactics. I used Graviton's power, trying to increase the gravity around him a hundredfold. The air shimmered, but Homelander just smirked.
"Cute. I've been to the core of a dying star. You think a little extra weight bothers me?"
He was toying with me. I launched a concentrated blast of lightning, followed by a jet of superheated plasma from Ember's power. The room flared with light and heat. When it cleared, Homelander was still standing there, brushing a speck of dust from his shoulder.
"Disappointing," he said. "All that power, and you fight like a child throwing rocks."
Anger, hot and sharp, flared in my chest. It was a mix of my own frustration and the volatile echoes of the Supes I'd absorbed. I lost control for a second. I screamed and charged him, my fist wreathed in black energy.
I put everything I had into that punch. It was the force that had killed Translucent, that had shattered Compound King.
My fist connected with his jaw.
The sound was like a thunderclap. A shockwave rippled out from the impact, shaking the entire facility. For a single, exhilarating moment, I thought I'd hurt him.
Then I felt the pain. It shot up my arm, a white-hot agony. I heard the bones in my hand and wrist shatter.
Homelander hadn't moved an inch. He slowly turned his head back to face me, his eyes glowing with a faint red light.
"Now," he said, his voice dangerously soft. "That had some bite."
He moved faster than I could process. One second he was in front of me, the next his hand was around my throat, lifting me off the ground. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't use my powers. His grip was absolute.
"You're strong, kid," he whispered, his face inches from mine. "But you're not me. You will never be me. Remember that. You're a useful tool. A fancy new hammer. But I… I am the hand that wields the hammer."
He dropped me. I collapsed to the floor, clutching my shattered hand, gasping for air.
He looked down at me, his expression one of utter contempt. "Get that fixed. You have a public debut to prepare for. And try to look a little more grateful. I just taught you the most important lesson you'll ever learn."
He turned and walked away, leaving me broken and humiliated on the floor of the indestructible room.
The lesson was clear. I was in his world now. And in his world, he was God.
My hand would heal. My body would recover. But the memory of his absolute, effortless power would stay with me. It was a brand, seared into my mind.
The cage wasn't just comfortable anymore. It was a prison, and the warden had just shown me the bars were unbreakable.