บท 10: Chapter 10
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Chapter 10
"FUUUUCCCKKKKK!!!!"
"MY LEG! MY LEG!"
"ARRRGGHhhhhh!"
The room was alive with a chorus of pained groans, mingled together in a symphony of pain and suffering. The room was filled with heroes and villains alike, some lay still in their hospital beds, while others paced back and forth, their injuries ranging from minor cuts and bruises to life-threatening wounds. The air was heavy with the scent of antiseptic and the constant beeping of monitors created an eerie symphony.
"Man! Shut the fuck up!"
A grizzled voice erupted from the corner of the room, immediately silencing the cacophony of moans. It came from a figure wrapped in bandages, his one visible eye glinting dangerously in the harsh fluorescent lights. He was Chuck "Rattlesnake" Monty, a notorious hero known for his unforgiving demeanor and brutal methods.
"Can't you see we're all hurtin' here? No need to broadcast your misery to the entire damn place," he growled, his voice echoing off the sterile white walls.
The other occupants quickly retreated into their own silence. The earlier symphony was reduced to a low hum, punctuated only by the occasional groan or grimace. Nurses flitted in and out, embodying an odd mixture of compassion and indifference as they attended to their patients.
Each of them had their own reasons for being there, but they all shared one common person who had sent them to this place of torment.
"So, Homelander got you guys too?" A C-tier villain asked the entire room.
The room fell silent, the low hum of agony now replaced with an unsettling stillness. Each pair of eyes hovered on the villain, his question hanging in the air like a guillotine blade. Pain-filled faces turned pale with remembrance, each recalling their own encounters with Homelander.
A small whimper came from a figure half-hidden in shadows. "Eagle Eye" Edd, they called him, once possessing a psychic vision that allowed him to see through walls and move objects with his mind. Now, he was blind, his eyes burnt out by Homelander's ruthless laser vision. Also, he no longer had a dick. Why? Well…
He got caught jerking off while staring at a school.
"Yeah…" intoned a hulking brute from one of the beds. His skin, normally a vibrant shade of green, had faded to an unhealthy pallor.
He was Grock, The Unstoppable, one of the more popular heroes. A titan in the underworld or at least that was his back story. Now, here he lay, broken and battered, his unstoppable momentum halted by Homelander.
"Bastard broke my spine and the rest of my fucking body just because I was about to have some 'fun' with a few girls. So, what if they didn't fucking consent? They should be fucking grateful a hero like me even considered fucking them!!!"
Grock would soon find out in the next couple of days that Homelander was not done with him.
Next to him lay the infamous Duke of Dynamite, languishing in a bed too small for his imposing figure. His face was hidden beneath layers of bandages; those who had seen him before knew he had been handsome once. Underneath the bandages was now a grotesque and disfigured face from a brutal beatdown by Homelander's fists.
"H-He took my f-face…" The Duke's voice was a raspy whisper. His burned and blistered hands clenched into fists on his blanket. Every word was a careful effort as if talking about Homelander could bring the hero down on them at any moment.
He attacked a family of minorities with the excuse of them having a dangerous weapon, but everyone in the room knew the real reason why.
The bastard was a major racist.
"Fuck that guy," spat out Speed Shifter, a former A-tier speedster. He no longer had legs, with it being lasered off and all. The once cocky hero was now a shell of his former self. He had been one of Homelander's first victims when he tried to take down the superhero out of jealousy for stealing his limelight.
"…Damn." The one who asked the question at the start murmured, looking at his injury which was just a broken arm.
"Yeah, that's right, damn indeed," said Rattlesnake from the corner, his voice as cold as the blue light coming from the ceiling. "Think you've got it bad? At least you can piss standing up."
The villain gave a small chuckle, finding some amusement in his predicament.
"I suppose you're right," he admitted, glancing down at his intact limbs. He was Lucky Lenny, a low-grade thief who had the misfortune of crossing paths with Homelander while he was robbing a convenience store.
His arm was broken in three places; he got lucky.
Lenny's gaze moved to a bed near the corner where lay a body covered entirely in bandages. It was hard to tell if there was still a person inside that cocoon of gauze and painkillers. His name was Ray, the human shield, formerly known for his impenetrable skin. Now, only scorched and ripped flesh remained under those dressings.
For what he did, he was lucky to still be alive.
Just then, an icy silence filled the room again as they all heard a blast outside. Blink and you'll miss it, a red blur moved past the windows, and everyone exchanged terrified looks. They knew what that signified – Homelander got another victim who would soon be joining them.
A weak whimper escaped from Eagle Eye Edd's lips - even blind and broken he could sense Homelander's presence. Others tried to sink deeper into their beds as if trying to disappear into their mattresses.
Suddenly, a man walked into the room with a heavy air of authority, getting everyone's attention.
Stan Edgar looked at everyone in the room with a stone-cold face, not a hint of emotions could be seen as he observed the injured heroes and villains.
"Quite the collection we have here," he muttered, his voice echoing coldly around the room. "Homelander's has kept himself busy, I see."
With a sigh, he addressed everyone in the room.
"Good evening gentlemen, it seems I've come at an interesting time. It appears Homelander's been on a bit of a... rampage, hasn't he?" He allowed himself a small, grim smile, devoid of humor, as his gaze swept over their injured forms.
He paced around the room, his sharp eyes taking in each face and every gruesome injury. His gaze met no one directly, but each person felt a shiver of unease as he passed them by. The Head of Vought International had a name that inspired dread amongst "supes", for he was a man who could end their careers and lives with a snap of his fingers.
His gaze finally stopped on Grock, whose bloodshot eyes glared at him with an intensity that might have made another man flinch. Edgar however, simply nodded to himself, as though confirming something.
"Mr. Grock," he said quietly, "you have been warned several times by your manager to tone down your habits, but seeing the condition you're in, you obviously didn't listen. For this reason, Vaught will no longer be supporting you, nor will we be providing you with any form of compensation. You are hereby stripped of all your endorsements and privileges as a hero."
With that said, he turned away from the giant to address another hero, leaving a shocked and pissed-off Grock in his wake.
Grock roared at Edgar in anger, trying to move his injured body but failing miserably, "You can't do this to me! I am Grock the Unstoppable! The Unbeatable! I'm one of your top heroes! Everyone fucking loves me!"
"Not anymore it seems," Edgar responded icily, not even bothering to look back at Grock. "If you checked the news, you would know the exact reason why."
As Edgar's cold words hung in the air, Grock fell silent, his wide eyes flickering with a mixture of disbelief and rage. His large hands balled into fists, as if he was imagining strangling Edgar right then and there. But he was powerless, reduced to a heap of broken bones and bruised pride on the hospital bed.
Edgar moved on to address Duke of Dynamite. He looked down at the once handsome face, now hidden beneath layers of bandages.
"Mr. Duke," he began, his voice devoid of any hint of sympathy, "Your actions were as deplorable as they were predictable. Racism is not an attitude Vought can or will endorse, just because we covered the many cases of you exhibiting such behavior in the past, doesn't mean we will continue to do so. We have a reputation to uphold."
His hands were clasped behind his back, an icy calmness settling over him.
"Consider your contract terminated."
The Duke couldn't reply - his jaw was still wired shut from the beatings - but the clenched fists on his blanket spoke volumes about his feelings towards Edgar's words.
"Vought has managed to keep your activities hidden thus far, but no longer. You will be handed over to the authorities within the next 24 hours."
A shock rippled through the room at this pronouncement. It was unheard of: Vought sacrificing one of their own to law enforcement? The shock quickly turned into quiet whispers as the heroes and villains began to speculate about what this could mean for them.
As Edgar continued his rounds, meeting each person's gaze with an iron stare, he finally stopped at a particular bed of Speed Shifter.
As Edgar approached him with measured steps. The once proud speedster looked up at him with a bitter smile on his face, but Edgar maintained his impassive demeanor.
"Mr. Speed Shifter," he said simply, "You are perhaps the most idiotic and egotistical person in the world for challenging someone like Homelander. Did you honestly think you could kill him just because you are faster than most heroes? Sure, you may have got a few good hits in but look where that has left you."
He pointed at the now legless man.
"I'm afraid your days of running are over and so is your career I'm afraid."
The former A-tier hero shot back a glare filled with pure hatred but didn't say anything in response.
As he finished talking to everyone, he addressed the entire room once again to deliver his final decree, the tone of authority in his voice enhancing the pervasive silence.
"Gentlemen…" Edgar began, casting his gaze over the room one last time, "...you have all made your choices, and these are the consequences of your actions. Vought will no longer support those who cannot control their behavior, or their powers, for that matter. Homelander has made sure of this, as you all personally experienced."
A sense of dread clung to the air as Edgar's words echoed in the minds of the fallen heroes and villains.
"From now on," he continued, "everything you do will have repercussions. No more second chances, no more covering up your messes. Welcome to your new reality."
A ripple of screaming and yelling echoed through the room but were quickly silenced by Edgar's cold stare.
"You are not gods," he announced emphatically. "You are merely tools in Vought's hands, and tools can be replaced. From this point on, you're on your own. Heal if you can and show us that you are still of use."
He paused for a moment, his icy gaze challenging anyone to refute his words. As silence fell heavily upon the room, he concluded his speech with a simple threat. "Homelander may have left you here broken but I will make sure to finish what he started; do I make myself clear?"
The silence that followed was deafening. Edgar's gaze held them in place, like deer caught in headlights, as they considered the gravity of his words.
"…I have a question." Someone in the room said in a whisper, but it seemed to echo in the silence of the room.
Stan turned back to look at the person who spoke. "Yes?"
"What...what about Homelander then?" They spat out between gasps of pain. "Why isn't he facing the consequences of his actions? He took out your 'tools' and yet you do nothing but suck his fucking dick!"
The room plunged into a tense silence once more, broken only by the soft beeping of life-support machines. Even the bravest among them held their breath, waiting for Edgar's response to this blatant accusation.
Edgar looked at him for a long moment before answering. "Homelander will face his own consequences in due time; rest assured."
His statement hung ominously in the air, casting a long cold shadow over the rumors of Homelander's invincibility. The atmosphere was fraught with tension as everyone in the room waited for any further elaboration, but Edgar remained silent. All they could do was imagine what 'plans' he had for Homelander.
Edgar's icy calm never wavered as he gave one last look at each person in the room. They were once powerful. Now, they were reduced to helpless bodies on hospital beds, left to deal with their injuries and the pieces of their shattered egos.
"Trust me when I say if he continues on this path recklessness and continues to act outside of Vaught's interest, he will be dealt with accordingly."
With that final statement, Edgar left without another word or backward glance, leaving behind a room filled with dread and uncertainty. As the heavy hospital doors closed behind him, an uneasy silence descended.
None of them noticed a certain English man passing by the door with a phone in his hands.
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