Whoosh!
The blonde woman's expression shifted instantly, her face darkening as if a storm had rolled across it.
Apparently, she hadn't expected Homelander's arrogance to reach such blinding heights.
So proud.
So utterly condescending.
Every motion, every look he gave off carried the quiet disdain of a man who considered the world beneath him. Even his retreat with Catwoman seemed to her like a deliberate insult.
The "woman in the cloak" standing beside her gave a low, derisive snort and stepped forward, boots striking the ground with a metallic edge. Her stance was tense, coiled, as if ready to intercept Alex right then and there.
> "Latonia."
The blonde—Monica—raised a hand, her voice smooth yet commanding enough to halt the other woman mid-step.
Her sharp blue eyes followed Alex and Catwoman's retreating figures through the glow of Gotham's streetlights. A calculating smile curved her lips, the kind of smile that promised both patience and danger.
> "No matter what, he fought Diana once before," Monica said quietly. "Let's at least show him a little respect."
> "Respect? For what?"
Latonia's voice came out harsh, distorted slightly through the mechanical resonance in her throat.
> "Everyone in the Company has fought Diana. We don't need him!"
Her tone dripped with contempt.
> "The so-called 'Knight of Light of Gotham'? Please. He's an alien—a showman, adored by crowds who don't know what real strength is."
She sneered, her eyes narrowing under the hood.
> "Tell me, Monica… you don't actually take him seriously, do you?"
If Diana had been there, she would have recognized them instantly.
These two women weren't random strangers. They were her sworn enemies.
Monica — a senior executive of the Crime Company, the ruthless syndicate built on chaos and science gone mad. She was also the trusted confidant of Doctor Poison herself.
And the woman beside her — Latonia Charles, a super-soldier whose name rarely made headlines, but whose codename did: Cyborg Woman.
Because that's precisely what she was — a female counterpart to Cyborg. Same augmentations. Same tech. Same eerie, glowing circuitry running beneath her skin. Only her human arrogance set her apart.
> "No," Monica said finally, her voice silky and dangerous, the words sliding out like a blade across glass.
"We do need him. He'll be our sharpest weapon against Diana."
> "You mean… cannon fodder?" Cyborg Woman muttered, crossing her arms.
> "Same thing."
Monica's smile deepened — cold, predatory, and knowing.
---
Meanwhile—
> "So they came because of Diana."
Inside the dim glow of the cinema, Alex leaned back in his seat, the faintest curl of amusement tugging at his lips.
He'd heard every word through the walls, of course. His super-hearing made sure of that.
Still, their motives surprised him slightly.
He had assumed Monica and her little shadow were after him. That they wanted to test him, challenge him, maybe recruit him for one of Gotham's petty power games.
But no — their true target was Diana.
And he? He was just the bait.
A tool.
Alex brushed a knuckle against his nose, the ghost of a smirk flickering across his face. It had been a long time since anyone had dared to underestimate him so boldly.
The feeling was almost nostalgic — almost funny.
He shook his head lightly, the matter dismissed with a shrug, and turned his full attention back to the movie screen in front of him.
He hadn't expected much when the film started — the older projection style, the grainy visuals, the muted colors. By his standards, this was ancient tech.
But surprisingly, it worked.
The story was gripping. The pacing tight. The dialogue unpolished yet genuine in a way modern blockbusters had long forgotten.
When the heart of a story burned bright, Alex realized, all the lack of polish in the world couldn't snuff it out.
Unlike the films from before his rebirth — those billion-dollar monstrosities filled with hollow explosions and soulless CGI.
Shiny, expensive, and dead inside.
All glitter, no soul.
---
> "Ugh, why did she have to die at the end? Damn you, screenwriter—you tricked me into crying!"
Catwoman's sniffle broke through the crowd's chatter as the credits rolled. She wiped her eyes quickly, trying to hide the redness.
Alex couldn't help but chuckle, shaking his head.
Together, they left the theater, blending into the post-show crowd — laughing, talking about the film's characters and that tragic finale.
They passed through the wide marble lobby, still caught in their easy rhythm of banter — until a familiar voice cut through the noise.
> "Homelander, can we talk now?"
Monica.
She hadn't left.
The moment Alex stepped into view, she moved forward with casual precision, her heels clicking softly across the polished floor.
> "Wait for me in the car," Alex said quietly to Catwoman.
> "Don't keep me waiting too long, darling."
She smiled, brushing a kiss against his cheek before turning away, her heels echoing faintly as she disappeared into the night.
Monica's eyes followed her retreat with open amusement.
> "A gorgeous, well-behaved girlfriend like that…" she said with a low whistle. "If I were you, Homelander, I might lose focus too."
Her tone was teasing, conversational — as if they were old friends sharing gossip.
> "You tracked me down just to talk nonsense?" Alex asked, one eyebrow lifting. His voice was flat, unamused.
> "Okay, okay! Straight to the point. I like that — saves us both time."
Monica spread her hands with a faint smirk.
> "Listen carefully. I can help you deal with Diana."
Alex's expression didn't flicker. He'd already predicted that line.
Still, he let her talk. Curiosity was a small luxury he could afford.
> "And when," he asked lazily, "did I ever say I wanted to deal with Diana?"
Monica's smile didn't waver. It only sharpened.
> "Seven days ago, you fought her near Wayne Tower. The entire street was a war zone."
"Tell me I'm wrong."
Her voice carried confidence — the kind born of preparation and surveillance. Clearly, she'd done her homework before coming here.
> "As far as I know," she added, "Diana's preparing to strike back soon. Consider this a friendly warning — a gesture of goodwill."
Alex's lips quirked faintly.
Really? That's your big reveal? You think I didn't already know that?
> "Listen, we're on the same side," Monica continued smoothly. "We're Diana's enemies. And the enemy of my enemy… is my friend."
Her next words came low and deliberate.
> "Join us, and we'll grant you power."
> "Power strong enough to crush — even kill — Diana."
There was no humor in her tone now. Her voice carried a grave conviction, the air around her tightening with intent.
> "You may not believe me," she went on, "but if I told you we're with the Crime Company, I think you'd take us more seriously."
She paused, letting that name hang between them like a loaded weapon.
> "Doctor Poison and Doctor Cyber founded it for one purpose — to destroy Diana."
> "You can investigate if you like. You'll find everything I've said is true."
Alex barely suppressed a sigh. Organizations, conspiracies, shadowy scientists — the usual Gotham melodrama.
But the phrase gain great power did catch his attention.
> "You're saying," he asked slowly, "you can make me stronger?"
> "Exactly." Monica's smile returned, bright and deliberate. "Doctor Poison has developed a serum — one capable of amplifying human strength three to five times over."
She leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper.
> "With your power multiplied fivefold… would Diana still be your equal?"
A power-enhancing serum.
That was her grand offer?
Alex nearly laughed out loud.
He didn't need to think twice — anything capable of boosting power like that would come with catastrophic side effects. It was science's oldest curse: everything had a price.
If such a drug truly worked without flaw, the Crime Company would already rule the planet.
They wouldn't be recruiting him — they'd have an army of unstoppable monsters by now.
And that simple truth made him smile — slow, amused, and dangerous.
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