Chapter 55: Laura [1]
A/N
Thanks for the power stones and i believe that we can push further up the rankings regain the spot we lost last time.
We are in top 30 but we can surely do better!
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Homelander moved toward the restrained figure of Laura Kinney—with softness, his cold, mechanical fury receding just slightly.
Her body was still tense, even as she fought to stay conscious, the machine burrowing into her back and draining her life force.
With a single movement, he ripped the restraints apart, the heavy-duty metal and locks crumbling like paper in his grip.
The machine that had been operating on her spinal cord was next.
Homelander placed his hand on it, and with a surge of raw strength, he crushed the device into useless scrap, wires sparking as it fell to the ground.
Laura collapsed immediately, her body devoid of energy, but she didn't faint.
Her breaths were shallow, ragged, as she struggled to remain awake.
Homelander knelt beside her, placing a calm hand on her head.
His touch, surprisingly gentle, worked its way into her mind, alongside him using his powers , making her body relax.
Slowly, her eyes fluttered closed as she drifted into a deep, peaceful sleep, free from the horrors of the facility for now.
Just as he stood up, footsteps echoed from behind.
He turned to see Ashley entering the room, her body decked out in special combat gear.
She didn't say anything at first, her expression serious as she strode forward, holding up a small drive—likely containing all the data on the facility, its experiments, and the atrocities committed here.
Homelander took a brief glance at the writhing, grotesque form of Adam Harkins, the man who had orchestrated all this, now cursed to a fate worse than death.
He was about to tell Ashley something, but was cut off by the feeling of arms wrapping around him from behind.
Ashley hugged him tightly, her cheek pressed against his back.
She said nothing, but her silence spoke volumes.
She had seen the rage in him, the sadness, the pain.
She knew how much it weighed on him, and in that moment, she didn't need to speak.
Homelander stood still, his mind clouded by the weight of everything, but he allowed himself to soften for a moment in her embrace.
The coldness in the air dissipated slightly as he placed a hand over hers, acknowledging her presence, her comfort.
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Laura's sleep was unlike any she had experienced —deep, peaceful, and without an ever-present pain.
For the first time, she could turn in her sleep without the burning ache in her spine, her muscles relaxing into the softness beneath her.
There were no restraints, no needles, no cold metal digging into her skin.
Only warmth, comfort, and silence.
Her body, once taut with tension, seemed to finally let go, as if all the nightmares had been pushed aside, leaving her in a dream where she could simply exist without suffering.
She drifted in and out of consciousness, each breath drawing her further into the stillness.
It was strange, this absence of pain.
Her mind barely recognized the sensation as real.
But then, something changed.
The peace was shattered as her instincts flared, and her eyes snapped open.
She jolted awake, sitting upright in bed, her breaths quick and sharp as if expecting to be restrained, drugged, or locked away.
But... nothing. There were no straps on her wrists, no needles in her veins.
No machines humming in the background.
She blinked, taking in her surroundings. A room—lavish, with dark blue drapes hanging by a window that overlooked a sprawling view of a City.
The faint hum of life outside buzzed through the glass.
She wasn't in the facility anymore.
The bed beneath her was enormous, its sheets far too soft, far too luxurious for anything she'd ever experienced.
She ran her fingers over the material, feeling its softness and trying to understand what had happened after that man came in her room.
There was no pain in her back, no exhaustion weighing down her body.
Her heart pounded in her chest as she slowly swung her legs over the side of the bed, her bare feet touching the cool floor.
Laura's senses adjusted to the unfamiliar surroundings, her muscles tensed with suspicion.
The sudden creak of a door opening caught her off guard, and she instinctively bared her claws, sliding into a crouched stance, her body ready for a fight.
She looked like a wild animal, eyes darting, searching for threats.
A woman stepped into the room, dressed in a sharp suit, her heels clicking softly against the floor. It was Ashley.
She was unfazed by Laura's aggressive posture, her expression calm and even somewhat amused.
She let out a small, bemused laugh as if the sight of Laura preparing to attack was something she expected.
"Relax," Ashley said, her voice smooth but firm, as though she was speaking to a feral cat that had wandered indoors.
Without flinching, she walked across the room, casually setting down a tray of food on a table near the bed.
"Eat," she said, her tone making it clear this wasn't a suggestion. "You're safe here."
Laura's claws didn't retract immediately. Her animal instincts told her to stay on guard, but something about Ashley's demeanor was confusing.
The woman wasn't afraid of her—no sudden movements, no signs of panic.
It was like she didn't see Laura as a threat at all.
Ashley gave her a knowing glance before turning to leave the room, leaving the tray behind. "You're not a prisoner anymore, eat up Master wnats to see you ready" she said over her shoulder, the door closing softly behind her.
Laura stared at the plate of food Ashley had placed in front of her.
It looked weird to her.
The bright colors, the smell, the warmth wafting up from it—none of it matched what she knew food to be.
She had only ever been fed food that was: tasteless, a gray paste that kept her alive but never satisfied her.
This meal, on the other hand, seemed too enticing, too real.
Her muscles tensed as she eyed the food cautiously.
What was this? A trick? A test? She had learned the hard way that nothing came without a price, especially in places like the labs where she had been raised.
She crouched over the plate, sniffing it as if it were dangerous.
Every instinct screamed at her to be careful.
She picked up a piece of meat with her fingers, feeling its warmth and texture.
The softness felt wrong against her calloused skin, and for a moment, she wondered if it was poisoned or drugged.
Her claws itched beneath her skin, but she forced herself to relax, to at least taste it.
She hesitated, bringing the food to her lips before quickly pulling it back, her heart racing with indecision.
After what felt like an eternity, she finally took a small, cautious bite.
The flavor exploded in her mouth—savory, rich, completely unlike anything she had ever tasted.
She wanted more, but her mind still clung to suspicion.
She swallowed and waited. Nothing happened. No pain, no tricks.
It was as that lady said , just food.
Slowly, she took another bite, her movements still hesitant.
Each chew was slow, her senses on high alert for any sign of danger.
But with every mouthful, the tension in her body began to ease.
The food wasn't a trick. It was real, nourishing, and—most shockingly—it was good.
She blinked as the realization hit her.
A flood of emotion welled up inside her, and without even realizing it, she began to eat faster, haphazardly shoving food into her mouth.
Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, though she wasn't sure why.
Her body trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of eating something that filled her stomach.
She felt warmth spread from her stomach, soothing the gnawing emptiness that had been her constant companion.
Tears rolled down her cheeks as she continued to eat.
She wiped at her face angrily, but the tears wouldn't stop.
She didn't want to cry over something as simple as food, yet here she was, breaking down over a meal.
When the plate was finally empty, Laura sat there, her body shaking from a mixture of relief and confusion.
She had never experienced something like this—something so foreign to her.
She hugged her knees to her chest, her mind racing back to the lab, to the grotesque scene of the scientist being transformed into a monster.
Her claws flexed instinctively.
Whoever had done that to him, they were powerful.
But she didn't care about their strength.
She had a promise to keep.
No matter how monstrous he had become, she needed to find him and end it herself.
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