章 71: The Surrender
Ashley walked through a military base with slow steps, her eyes fixed on the target ahead.
The air around her wavered with heat, and the ground beneath her feet melted like wax, leaving smoldering craters in her wake.
She didn't bother with the soldiers who ran from her, their faces twisted in fear as the oppressive heat radiated from her form.
They weren't her concern.
Her target was something far worse.
John Sublime.
The name carried weight in the world of genetic manipulation and bioweapons, but Ashley knew better than most just how dangerous he truly was.
As a microbial entity capable of infecting and taking control of hosts, Sublime wasn't bound by the usual rules.
Killing him meant more than just brute force; it required precision and special weaponry. That's why he had given her the vial.
Her master, had personally developed it—a new kind of Compound V, enhanced with both the newly decoded Erskine serum from the super soldiers and Homelander's own blood.
In his own words which ashley didn't quite understand the serum is " Like a mini version of the sentry serum. " , whatever that was supposed to mean.
The result was a concoction of power so potent, it was meant for the gravest situations or in this case
Because it'll temporarily grant her reality warping, temporary because it'll only last till the body has active circulation of the compound.
He'd told her it was necessary to ensure her victory over Sublime, meaning his death and also if things got out of hand with unexpected variables.
She could feel the vial in her pocket, a small yet weighty reminder of the power she had yet to unleash.
Her presence alone was already enough to melt the base around her, concrete and steel warping and bending like chocolate under a blowtorch.
But against Sublime, this power wasn't guaranteed to be enough to kill him.
Ashley paused for a moment, her hand brushing against the vial as she considered injecting it.
She could feel the ground tremble beneath her feet as more soldiers scrambled to flee, but she didn't pay them any mind.
As long as they didn't interfere, they wouldn't meet their end today.
Her path was littered with the remains of sentinel parts—scraps of metal and technology that had been designed to wipe out mutantkind after years of research.
She scorched every last piece, ensuring that none of it would remain to be used in the future.
These machines had been a headache before, and she wasn't about to let them rise again.
She reached the central lab, the place where Sublime was known to operate from.
The air was thick with tension, the heat around her intensifying as she approached.
The walls glistened and dripped as they melted under the pressure of her power.
The door in front of her crumpled inward as if it had been made of paper, revealing the lab's interior.
There in front of her was the man himself standing calmly.
As the man approached, she felt a shift in the air, subtle but unmistakable.
The virus lingered around him, invisible to the normal eye but noticeable to her enahnced senses, its presence like a dark cloud.
She feigned ignorance, allowing him to think she hadn't noticed the danger he carried.
Without missing a beat, she held the man up effortlessly with one hand, her fingers curling around his throat as if in a careless display of power.
Making sublime think she doesn't know his true nature.
As she "accidentally" breathed in, the virus entered her body—a deliberate action on her part, though it appeared like a mistake to any onlookers.
Instantly, the V compound in her system flared to life, burning through the virus in a matter of milliseconds.
She felt the virus try to take root, only to be incinerated by the active Compound V.
The experience was almost instantaneous, but in that moment, she understood the intricacies of the virus as she had desired the reality warping working as intended.
With a small, knowing smile, she let her reality-warping powers come to life with full force.
The virus, now laid bare to her abilities, was vulnerable.
She reached into the virus's core, twisting and pulling at its genetic structure, erasing its existence in reality altogether.
In one swift, precise movement, the virus ceased to exist—not just in her body, but everywhere.
She had annihilated it at the conceptual level, ensuring it could never return.
---
In a fortified bunker deep beneath the earth, the President of the United States sat at a long metal table.
His morning had been simple—toast with butter, scrambled eggs, and a cup of lukewarm coffee. His wife sat beside him, staring nervously at the television that displayed static reports from the surface. They believed they were safe, hidden away from the chaos above.
But the illusion of safety quickly shattered.
The ground trembled violently, the bunker walls groaning as cracks began to snake across the concrete and steel.
The President's cup rattled, spilling coffee onto his lap as he shot to his feet. His heart pounded as the rumbling intensified. The ceiling creaked ominously, then, with a deafening roar, was torn away as if it were made of paper.
Above him, standing in midair, was Homelander.
The hero-turned-menace hovered effortlessly, his eyes gleaming with a mix of amusement and disdain. His telekinesis had ripped through the bunker with ease, exposing the underground sanctuary to the open sky.
The President fell to his knees, trembling as the enormity of his mistakes became clear with each second.
He stammered, trying to muster words, but all that came out was a feeble string of excuses and pleas. "Y-you can't do this! Th-this isn't right... The Constitution... you—"
Homelander landed gracefully before the man, his boots barely making a sound on the bunker floor. He gazed at the cowering figure with a smirk, his expression radiating disdain.
"Constitution? Really?" Homelander mocked, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "You think a few words written on a piece of paper are gonna stop me?"
The President opened his mouth to respond, but his words were drowned by the sound of liquid hitting the floor.
He had wet himself in fear.
Homelander's eyes narrowed with disappointment, the soldiers standing guard shakily raised their weapons, only for them to warp and twist, the barrels and stocks melding together into grotesque shapes of useless metal.
"Trash," Homelander sneered, stepping closer. "You're not even worth the air you breathe."
He grabbed the President by the collar, effortlessly lifting him off the ground.
The man kicked his legs weakly, his face pale with terror.
Behind them, the President's wife dropped to her knees, her hands clasped together in a desperate plea.
"Please... spare him!" she sobbed, her voice quivering. "He's just doing what he thought was right."
Homelander paused, tilting his head slightly, as if considering her words. A slow smile spread across his face, and he chuckled softly.
"Right?" he said, his voice almost tender. "Lady, your husband's done more harm than good. And you—" He turned to her, eyes cold. "You're just as guilty. Don't think your little role as 'First Lady' makes you innocent."
He raised his free hand, and with a simple motion, giant rods of steel burst from the ground, encasing her in a makeshift prison.
She screamed, her cries echoing off the bunker walls as she realized she was trapped.
"You'll get to watch what happens next," Homelander said, his voice flat. "I think that's fair, don't you?"
With a casual flick of his wrist, Homelander lifted the President higher into the air and, without another word, shot upwards, bursting through the ground and leaving the First Lady behind in her prison of steel.
As the President dangled helplessly in Homelander's grasp, the man could barely breathe.
He stared down at the receding ground, his entire life flashing before his eyes.
The hero's grip tightened slightly, cutting off his air, as Homelander smiled, his voice echoing in the wind.
"You know, you politicians always think you're untouchable," Homelander said. "That no matter how much you lie, cheat, or steal, there'll be no consequences. But I'm here to change that."
The President's face turned red as he choked, gasping for air. He tried to speak, but no words came out. Homelander smirked, then loosened his grip just enough for the man to inhale sharply.
"Don't worry," Homelander said with a dark chuckle. "This is just the beginning. You're not the only one on my list."
---
Homelander soared through the roof of the White House breaking it effortlessly.
With a casual grip, heheld the president like a sack of potatoes, his body dangling limply in the air, a quivering mass of nerves and sweat.
The gathered media outside, oblivious to the sudden turn of events, continued their reports, unaware of the happenings because they had been stopped almost a kilometer away.
He landed in the Oval Office with a thunderous crash, sending papers flying and the president's heart racing.
The man stammered, attempting to speak, but the words tumbled from his mouth in a jumbled mess. "Uh—uh, Homelander, I—uh, what—"
"Enough with the talk," Homelander boomed, his voice echoing through the room.
He threw the president onto the desk, sending an array of official documents scattering. "You're going to do exactly what I say, or this desk will be the last thing you see."
The president's eyes widened, a mix of fear and confusion and a sprt of happiness as he thought he'd be free if he fulfills Homelander's desires."I—uh, yes, of course! Just—just tell me what you need!"
Homelander smirked. "Write three presidential orders. First, absolve me and the Brotherhood of any crimes—past, present, and future. Second, issue a death order for 3,567 individuals, including yourself, on the grounds of national security. Just throw in some political jargon; I don't care how you dress it up. And third, officially recognize mutants as citizens with equal rights and outlaw any experimentation. Simple enough, right?"
The president stuttered, his mind
Frozen at the fact that he was basically telling him to order his own deatg , he tried to comprehend the absurdity of the demands. "But, um, you can't just—"
Homelander leaned in closer, his gaze turning icy as he activated his heat vision. "I swear to God, if you even think about deflecting this, I'll burn you alive right here. Political bullshit won't save you from my wrath. Just get it done, or I'll just end you."
The president's face drained of color, a bead of sweat rolling down his temple as he nodded frantically almost pissing his pants again."I—I'll do it! I promise! Just please don't—"
"Good," Homelander said, straightening up, as he let the president scramble to the desk, fumbling for a pen.
---
The president's hands trembled as he pressed the official stamp onto the last of the orders, tears flowing freely down his face.
Each thud of the stamp echoed like a death knell, the weight of his decisions crashing down around him.
He was writing his own death sentence, a truth he couldn't escape, and it crushed him from the inside out.
Homelander stood nearby, He didn't flinch at the president's emotional turmoil; he knew the man was scum.
Sure, he himself was scum too, but he wasn't that way to the normal people.
Most of the things he did were aimed at villains or people he deemed worth to be treated that way.
"Alright, now that we've got that sorted," Homelander said, his voice smooth and commanding. "You're going to announce these orders publicly."
The president's gaze shot up, disbelief etched across his features. "You...want me to do ...what? You think I— I'll just stand there— and announce my own death?"
"Of course you can," Homelander replied with a smirk. "This is your chance to show the world the truth. Let them see how scum like you gets handled. You're going to be the example."
"I—I can't!" the president stammered, his heart racing with fear.
"But you will," Homelander countered, his eyes glinting with a predatory light. "They need to see the reality of what you've done, and what happens to people like you."
The president swallowed hard, wrestling with the implications of what he was about to do.
Homelander stepped closer, his voice dropping to a low, menacing tone.
"You're welcome to try and run from your death, but I promise you, there will be no escape. I'll be watching every move you make, and the second you think you can hide, I'll find you."
The president's face drained of color, realization dawning on him. He had no choice but to comply. "Fine," he said, a tremor in his voice. "I'll do it."
"Good," Homelander said, satisfaction coursing through him.
As the president nodded, defeated, Homelander stepped back, allowing the man to prepare himself for the impending announcement.
He turned and exited the Oval Office, the door slamming shut behind him.
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