As Homelander In Multiverse

The dim room reeked of cigarette smoke and alcohol as freelance journalist Dodge Wesson stumbled out of his bedroom, phone clutched tightly in hand.

"Listen to me, Mr. Henry. I'm perfect for the travel column at your paper."

"I've been to all sorts of places. I've got tons of experience—and followers!"

"No, what happened the other day was just a misunderstanding."

"I am not anti-establishment."

"No, no! I'm not anti-hero either—"

Beep. Beep. Beep.

The call cut off.

Dodge let out a frustrated roar, gripping the phone as if to smash it into the floor—but he caught himself just in time and instead hurled it onto the couch.

He collapsed onto the cushions, hands covering his face, exhaustion weighing him down.

Ever since his failed attempt to boost his career by smearing Homelander, his life had spiraled into ruin.

Newspapers and magazines that once welcomed his contributions now avoided him, fearful of provoking Vought's wrath. His live-streaming career, too, had plummeted with the mass exodus of followers.

Staring vacantly at the ceiling, Dodge's self-pity was interrupted by a pounding on the door, followed by the angry voice of his landlord.

"Dodge, I know you're in there! Don't try to hide."

"Where's my rent? And don't forget the utilities!"

Dodge snatched a beer bottle from the floor and hurled it at the door, where it shattered with a loud crash.

"You've got three days," the landlord shouted, undeterred. "After that, you're out on the street!"

Dodge groaned, dropping his hands. His fingers brushed against a piece of paper on the couch—it was his credit card bill.

"Damn Supes..." he muttered. "Damn Homelander!"

Frustration boiling over, he jumped up, fists clenched. "Why won't you just die, you freaks?!"

Panting from the outburst, Dodge staggered over to the window and cracked it open to let in some air.

"Hey there."

A voice greeted him from across the alley.

Dodge looked up to see a man in a blue-and-white uniform, helmet glinting in the fading daylight. The stranger gave him a friendly wave from the rooftop opposite.

Before Dodge could react, the figure leapt across the alley with startling agility.

Startled, Dodge stumbled back, slipping on an empty beer can. He landed hard on the floor just as the man crashed through the window in an explosion of glass shards.

With a smooth roll, the man sprang to his feet and brushed the glass off his uniform.

Dodge blinked, finally recognizing him. "Blue Hawk?"

Blue Hawk gave a weary sigh. "Yeah, I know—this isn't even my neighborhood."

He gestured out the window toward the setting sun.

"The place I patrol? It's a goddamn nightmare."

"Nothing but junkies and gangbangers—stinking monkeys smoking weed, robbing stores, and screwing anything that moves, including each other."

"I hate their music the most," he added, sneering. "Makes my skin crawl."

Blue Hawk shook his head in disgust. "It's like wading through a swamp every day. I need to get out of that cesspool—you get it, don't you?"

He pointed toward the distant silhouette of Seven Tower, its spire bathed in the warm glow of twilight.

"Look at that. Now that's where I belong. That's the kind of life I deserve—not babysitting criminals."

"But getting in there..." His voice dropped. "It's not easy."

Blue Hawk turned back to Dodge, smiling eerily.

"And that's where you come in."

Dodge's eyes widened. "Me? I'm your ticket in?"

"Exactly." Blue Hawk stepped closer. "That little stunt you pulled with Homelander a few days ago? That took balls."

"I hate that flying prick just as much as you do. But I'd never have the guts to say it out loud."

"You, on the other hand... well, you really pissed him off."

"And I figured—if I gift-wrap you and bring you to Seven Tower, maybe they'll finally let me in."

Before Dodge could react, Blue Hawk bent down, grabbed his ankle, and began dragging him toward the broken window.

"No! No! Wait!" Dodge screamed, kicking desperately. "Homelander's probably forgotten all about me! I'm nobody—he won't care!"

Blue Hawk smiled coldly. "Shut up, or I'll rip your tongue out. Your choice."

Just then, the apartment door exploded inward, slamming into Blue Hawk with a deafening crash.

Blue Hawk shielded his face as the wooden door splintered across his armored frame. He tore the remains of the door apart and glared at the entrance.

Standing there, framed by the shattered doorway, was a towering figure clad in sleek black-and-gold armor, its metal surface glinting ominously in the dim light.

Blue Hawk narrowed his eyes. "What the hell—"

Before he could finish, a red laser dot appeared on his forehead, slowly tracing down his body.

Dodge watched in frozen horror as Blue Hawk's eyes twitched with fear. The dot continued downward, leaving a thin red line across his uniform.

An instant later, Blue Hawk's body split cleanly in half. Blood and organs spilled onto the floor, splattering Dodge from head to toe.

For a moment, there was only silence.

Then Dodge let out a blood-curdling scream—until a hand clamped over his mouth, silencing him.

The armored figure's faceplate slid open, revealing a rugged face framed by a wild beard.

"Shut up, you pansy." The man's voice was gruff. "Unless you want the cops sniffing around."

He grinned, showing yellowed teeth. "Not that it matters—they'll be here soon anyway. These Supe pricks all carry tracking chips. The second they go down, the cops know."

The bearded man spat on Blue Hawk's remains. "Turns out superheroes are just as full of shit as the rest of us."

Turning back to Dodge, he grinned. "Now, how about giving me a hand, mate?"

"I'm sure you've got some luggage lying around."

---

Minutes later, two suitcases sat in the middle of the room—each stuffed with dismembered pieces of Blue Hawk.

Wrapped in a blanket, Dodge huddled in the corner, watching in terror as the man shoved a couch against the broken door to block it.

Glancing at the bloody suitcases, Dodge whispered, voice trembling, "Please... don't kill me."

The bearded man crouched in front of him, smirking. "Funny. Weren't you a lot braver in that livestream? What happened to the guy who called out Homelander in front of a million people?"

He tapped Dodge's forehead playfully. "If I'd known you were this pathetic, I wouldn't have bothered coming."

Dodge swallowed hard. "You're... not a Supe?"

The man snorted. "Hell no. If I was, you would be in those suitcases right now."

He pulled out a cigar, lit it with a flick of a lighter, and took a long drag.

"So, Dodge... you still got the guts to go after the Supes?"

"Doesn't matter if you don't," the man added with a grin. "Your life's over anyway."

He pointed toward the suitcases. "You've got Supe bits all over your apartment. One DNA test, and you're screwed."

Dodge stammered, "But... but you killed him!"

The man grinned wider. "Think anyone's gonna believe you?"

Dodge's face turned deathly pale. After a long silence, he finally asked, "Who... who are you?"

The man extended a bloodstained hand.

"Name's Butcher. Nice to meet you."

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