Chapter Text
Chapter Warnings: Typical "The Boys" warnings, Homelander
Applause thundered through the convention hall. Homelander smiled at the audience, arms extended to them as he stepped out into the light before the shareholders and fans of Vought—of him.
“USA! USA! USA!” chanted the crowd. “USA! USA! USA! USA!”
“Thank you,” said Homelander.
“USA!”
“Thank you!” Homelander’s smile twitched. The music stopped, and he looked around the audience. “Thank you and welcome to the Vought International Annual Meeting of Shareholders.” The crowd roared with approval again. Homelander smiled. Everything was in control. “Wasn’t that long ago we were lost in the darkness. Starlighters running wild. Starlight herself on a vicious murder spree. But we said, ‘No.’ We said, ‘Enough.’ We said, ‘Not in America.’ And together we soared into a new golden dawn!” People thundered with applause and cheered and stamped their feet in a fervor. “Our superheroes are now the ranking law enforcement officers. We designed the Starlighters a terrorist organization. Other heroes are proudly serving in the armed forces thanks to the new chairman of the Joint Chiefs, General Mayhem! Net income is up twenty-one percent. G-Men: Days past the Future has grossed over two billion. And do not get me started on the EBITDA margins.”
Homelander saw the smiles, heard the applause, and listened to the cheers. Everything was falling into place. With Calhoun and Ashley in the White House, he had control of the USA. Vought was under his control. Sage was working out all the details of capturing Starlighters. His camps throughout the country were taking anyone who would try to take away what Homelander deserved. Homelander would have his perfect life.
Homelander continued, his smile widening as he recalled how successful he had become. “But all of this pales in comparison to the most important truth, that this is a safer, more God-fearing nation! Our nation! Yes! Despite what that little bitch Starlight tried to do at our southern border, is there no depth to what that little who—”
The screen behind him glitched, and the face of a man in a plane appeared. The room went quiet, and Homelander whirled.
“Homelander and Queen Maeve…my God, they’re leaving us!”
On the video, Maeve pushed a daughter and mother towards Homelander. “Take these two!”
“Whoa, no!” denied Homelander on the video.
“Just these two, please!”
“What? So they can tell the world that we left the rest of them to fucking die?!”
“Come on!”
Homelander went still. He stared at the old, old video. This wasn’t supposed to ever get out there. That was—
“No, Maeve. No!” On the video, Homelander glared at the crowd, eyes glowing with lasers. “You stay back. All of you, stay back! You stay the fuck back or I’ll laser you, goddammit I’ll laser every fucking one of you!” The video ended.
Homelander let out a long, shaky breath. Everyone was staring at him. He could feel the stares. His ears rang, and his hands flexed. His eyes flickered red. He had to destroy them all. He had to destroy everything. Fucking Starlight wouldn’t stop destroying what Homelander was building.
A hand landed on Homelander’s arm. The glow of his eyes died. Sister Sage gave Homelander a warning look. She would handle the issue.
Homelander settled down. He gritted his teeth. He hated Starlight. He hated Butcher. He hated all the small people still trying to take away what he deserved—his perfect world for his perfect family. He would build it brick by brick, body by body.
l
Homelander paced his penthouse. Sister Sage was doing damage control, Ashley was doing press releases about AI deepfakes, and everything was under control. But Homelander didn’t feel in control. People were doubting him; turning against him. Homelander took a deep breath and laid a hand on a smooth white tank. He looked down at it, smiling.
But it would all be alright. Homelander had a plan. It was time to rid himself of Hughie Campbell, the French one, and Marvin—their execution was imminent. Homelander smiled. Starlight and Butcher would have no choice but to come out from hiding, and Homelander would then get to crush them.
“They’re trying to tear us apart. I won’t let them. I’ll keep you safe from them. They won’t be able to get to you anymore. They won’t get into your head, giving you silly ideas about how we’re not family.” Homelander smiled and patted a smooth white tank. “But don’t worry. You’re safe, (Y/N).” Homelander smiled down at (Y/N). Their face was expressionless, eyes shut in a deep, deep sleep. They were safe, protected from the world that was trying to turn them against him. Homelander wouldn’t let it. No matter what, he would protect his family.
l
Annie exhaled despondently, and sickly sweet vapor filtered into the air. She tucked the video of the Deep’s constant insults away. She didn’t care about all that. She cared about MM. Frenchie. Kimiko. Hughie. (Y/N). She just didn’t know how to help them, stuck in Vought’s clutches.
(Y/N). Their name echoed in her mind, and Annie’s grip on the bottle next to her tightened, the coping mechanism etched into her now. She had failed them. They had been the hero, sacrificed themself to a literal fate worse than death, and given Annie a chance to fight. But Annie was useless. She couldn’t save (Y/N). She couldn’t’ save anyone, not even her own people. Her own sibling, her family, was probably near dead under Homelander's control. They could even be dead already, broken down until nothing of them was left. It broke Annie's heart.
“Oh, bollocks.”
Annie jerked to her feet and whirled. Butcher stood in the doorway of her safehouse. Her eyes narrowed.
“Half a bottle of rum and you’re a solid five-out-of-ten any day of the week,” said Butcher sarcastically.
“What the fuck are you doing here?” snapped Annie.
Butcher smirked and glanced behind him. Kimiko stepped into the doorway. Annie’s eyes widened—really relieved.
“Kimiko?” A smile appeared on her face for the first time in-in over a year. Kimiko smiled and rushed in for a hug, which Annie returned joyfully.
“Oh, wow.” Kimiko drew back. “Your skin is so oily, like hugging a McRib.”
Annie stared. “Wait—Did you—Did you just—How?”
“Fucking speech therapy and fucking therapy therapy and so much fucking TikTok,” said Kimiko matter-of-factly.
“Well, you sure sound like you’re on TikTok,” admitted Kimiko.
“Sixteen-hour-flight and not a fuckin- peep,” said Butcher incredulously.
“ ‘Cause all you say is ‘Oi, oi, oi, cunt, cunt, cunt,’ ” said Kimiko sharply.
Butcher huffed. “I liked her better with her mouth cunt.”
Kimiko rolled her eyes.
“Where have you been?” asked Annie.
“Vought got tired of me ripping off their guards’ faces, so they deported me to Manila,” said Kimiko. “I tried to sneak back once, in the wheel well of a 747, but I fell out at ten thousand feet.” She grimaced. “Oh, man, that took a hot minute to regrow. They found my asshole, like, a mile away.”
Honestly, Annie had no words to respond to such a graphic image. “How did you find me?”
“Oh, ways and means, luv,” said Butcher cheerfully. “How many men you down?”
“How many does it look like?” Annie was alone once more. She glanced at Butcher’s stomach as he hummed.
“Don’t worry, luv. Nothing to be scared of.” Butcher wiggled his fingers at her with a grin.
“I’ve seen what your chest full of murder dicks can do,” said Annie coldly. She had a right to be wary. “So, are you still dying, hopefully?”
“No, hearty and hale!” said Butcher. “See, that’s the mistake most people make, they try to fight the cancer.” He gestured to her. “Nice one, putting Flight 37 out there.”
“Was it? It didn’t move the needle an inch,” said Annie, exhausted and frustrated.
“Oh, course it did. Homelander’s fuming.” Butcher smirked at the image. “He’s gonna execute Hughie, Frenchie, and MM in about thirty-six hours.”
Annie’s eyes widened.
“Course, it’s a trap,” said Butcher. “The question is what else are we gonna do ‘sides walk into it?”
“Why haven’t you tried to spring them before?” questioned Annie.
Butcher hesitated.
“Mm. You want Frenchie,” said Annie. “You’re still working on the virus, and you want his help.”
“The virus that’ll kill Annie, (Y/N), me, and you now?” said Kimiko.
“And Homelander.” That’s what mattered to Butcher. “Now, you gonna help us save the Boys or not?”
Annie stood, crossed the room, and returned with photographs that created a schematic of the camp.
“How did you get these?” asked Kimiko.
“Flyby. I took it myself,” said Annie.
“Wait, you’ve known where the guys are this whole time?” asked Kimiko, frowning. “That makes me feel angry and want to tit-slap you, but then hug you.”
“So, how come you didn’t spring them, then?” Butcher threw the question back at Annie.
“Honestly? They’ve been safer there.” And Annie was terrified of how unable she was to protect people around her. She ignored Butcher’s look and pointed at one building. “It’s this one.”
“Getting in won’t be easy,” said Butcher. “The perimeter’s just open space.”
“That’s what I’m telling you,” said Annie.
“I know a guy. I mean, he’s a fucking worm, but he might be able to help,” said Butcher. “But even if I can get us in, how the fuck we gonna get out?”
“Leave that to me,” said Annie. “I have someone we can call.”
Butcher nodded. “Alright then.” He turned and left the room to reach out to his contact.
Kimiko looked at Annie. “You know where the boys are. So what—What happened to (Y/N)?”
Annie looked down. She remembered the screams, the crash, the terrified but scarily determined look in (Y/N)’s eyes when they’d ordered her to leave. “Vought took them.” The words felt like fresh wounds. “Because I couldn’t protect them. They fought, but-but they were sedated.” Her fists clenched. “They remembered, Kimiko. They remembered everything. And they’re out there somewhere, scared and alone, and we’re not there.”
“Hey.” Kimiko put a hand on her arm. “(Y/N) is strong.”
“They shouldn’t have to be,” said Annie. “It’s not fair to them.”
“It’s not,” agreed Kimiko. “But we’ll find them. You know we will. And…” Kimiko squeezed Annie’s arm encouragingly “Whatever doesn’t kill (Y/N) usually regrets it.”
Annie nodded slowly. She hoped so. (Y/N) deserved to be free.
l
After scheming with Frenchie and MM, Hughie took a deep breath, maintained his regular composure, and walked into their boarding room. He froze. The room was splattered with blood. Bisected limbs littered the ground, and the smell of fear and death permeated the air. It was only years of desensitization that kept Hughie’s food from coming up.
“ ‘Well, Annie, today marks two months. It’s a little insane how much I miss you.’ ” In the middle of the gore sat Homelander, reading from the precious, secretive journal Hughie had hidden in the walls. “ ‘I’ve been having trouble eating. Every day, I see people giving up, but not me because I have you.’ ” Homelander smirked at the saccharine words. “It’s very, very sweet.”
“They were innocent.” Hughie could feel the bodies lining the room, the people he’d lived with for over a year, regular people who just wanted to live.
“Oh, well, I’d hardly call them innocent,” scoffed Homelander with a cheerful smile. “They lied to me. Played dumb about your little stash int the wall there.”
Hughie let out a breath. The Molotovs had been found.
“We’ve known about that for quite some time,” said Homelander. “But I just wanted to give you a little hope.”
“You’re not the one who gave it to me, asshole,” said Hughie.
“Ooh, I like Internment Camp Hughie,” said Homelander. “She’s zesty.”
“Fuck you,” snapped Hughie. He stepped forward and extended his arms. “Do it.”
“What?”
“Kill me.”
“Not until we flush out Butcher and Starlight,” corrected Homelander.
“You think they’re dumb enough to just walk right into your trap?” demanded Hughie.
“Let’s not insult each other. We both know they’re coming,” said Homelander. He tossed the notebook ot the ground. “It even says it there.” He cleared his throat and repeated Hughie’s own words, “ ‘I know that it hurts being apart. But I know that, when the times comes, we’ll fight for each other. We’ll fight for M and Frenchie and Kimiko and (Y/N) and everyone else.’ ” Homelander grinned. “You’ll do whatever it takes for each other.”
Hughie’s hands curled into fists.
“Do you remember when we first met?” said Homelander abruptly.
“How could I forget?” said Hughie sarcastically.
“Believe Festival,” remembered Homelander. “I tried to cleanse your soul. I remember thinking…‘Why him?’ What does Starlight see in this gangly simp that reeks of fear and Strawberry Smoothie kids’ shampoo?” Hughie frowned. “You know, William and Victoria Neuman love you, too.” Homelander stood. “I mean, I get it from your perspective. You’re punching up. Good for you. But why are they so hopelessly devoted to such staggering mediocrity?” Homelander’s smile fell to a frustrated sneer. “Why would (Y/N) treat you like family when you’re so inferior?”
There it was: the real issue Homelander had. He could deal with Butcher and Annie adoring a ridiculously weak man like Hughie, but (Y/N) had a better option. Borealis was Homelander’s sibling, they had the perfect family right in front of them, and yet they chose Hughie as a brother.
Hughie met Homelander’s gaze. Refusing to cower, he lifted his chin. “Because I treat (Y/N) like a person. Not a possession.”
The fist to his head knocked him before he could stay another word, but Hughie didn’t regret it for a moment.