"Cough... cough..." Queen Maeve gasped for air, pushing herself up from the debris. She staggered to her feet, her gaze fixed on Samuel, her eyes clouded with genuine terror.
"If you don't want to lose everything, don't you ever say that name again!" she hissed.
Samuel looked into her trembling eyes and smiled. "Interesting. Your eyes tell me you're afraid. But you aren't afraid that I'll hurt her, or that I'll use her to blackmail you. You're afraid that he will hear her name."
He shook his head mockingly. "Tsk, tsk... you really are pathetic."
The name Irina wasn't special in itself; what mattered was her identity. She was Queen Maeve's ex-girlfriend.
Maeve lived in constant fear of that relationship going public. Not only would it shatter the heroic "warrior princess" persona Vought Company had carefully manufactured for her, but she also lived in terror of Homelander finding out. Even though their brief, staged romance had ended years ago, Homelander was an arrogant, possessive psychopath. If he discovered Irina's existence, he wouldn't hesitate to murder her—and possibly Maeve as well.
A world-renowned superhero with millions of fans, yet unable to protect the person she loved most. Pathetic was the only word for it.
"Pathetic?" Maeve sneered, her voice trembling. "When you finally face him, you'll realize how insignificant and ridiculous 'courage' really is. Everyone bows to him. You won't be the exception."
Homelander's power was absolute. The world had no idea how terrifying a corrupted Superman could be. Maeve feared him. The Seven feared him. Even the Vought executives who "managed" him feared him.
To Samuel, Homelander represented the logical conclusion of a being with god-like power; the self-restraint of someone like Clark Kent was essentially a form of self-sabotage to please the weak.
"Tell me," Maeve said, finally yielding. She couldn't risk Irina's safety. "What is it you want?"
Samuel's lips curled into a roguish, rebellious grin. Originally, he had planned to force Maeve to act as his mole, tipping him off whenever The Seven went on missions so he could farm their abilities from a distance.
But he had changed his mind. He wanted to see the look on Maeve's face when the invincible demon-god she worshipped was forced to his knees.
"You can contact Homelander, can't you?" Samuel asked, using the name directly this time.
Maeve's heart skipped a beat. A surge of unease washed over her. "Whatever you want, whatever you need me to do, I'll do it!" she growled. "Just don't make this more complicated than it already is!"
CRASH!
As the words left her mouth, the ceiling of the factory disintegrated.
The Stars and Stripes fluttered in the draft. Homelander touched down, his boots clicking against the concrete. He brushed an invisible speck of dust from his shoulder and looked at Maeve with an expressionless mask.
"Translucent told me you were in trouble," Homelander said. His voice was like a shard of ice in the dead of winter—flat, cold, and utterly terrifying. "But now... I'm much more interested in what becomes 'more complicated' if I find out about it."
His gaze was sharp enough to cut, devoid of even a flicker of human warmth. Under that stare, Maeve felt as if her heart had stopped beating. Her soul screamed at her; she could already see the grizzly scene of Homelander's rage—Irina's life snuffed out in an instant.
She lowered her head, paralyzed by fear.
"She won't say it. So you tell me," Homelander said, turning his attention to Samuel. His eyes were indifferent, looking at Samuel as if he were nothing more than a stray ant.
"Stop pretending you're a god," Samuel retorted instantly. "You're just a hollow shell in a cape. Who do you think you're fooling?"
Maeve's head snapped up, her eyes wide with disbelief. Is he insane? she wondered. How can he talk to Homelander like that? Does he not understand what death looks like?
If she had asked, Samuel would have told her: "The best way to eliminate fear is to face it."
Homelander was just as stunned as Maeve. His cold, indifferent eyes began to glow with a searing, fiery red.
Hot Ray.
"I think you're looking for a grave," Homelander said. His voice was a volatile mix of ice and fire.
Samuel let out a dismissive scoff. "You think I should do this, you think I should be that... why don't you try being me for a second and see how it feels?"
WHOOSH—
Homelander's patience snapped. Searing crimson beams erupted from his eyes.
[Ding! Battle detected. Reward dropped: Hot Ray (Homelander)]
Homelander's Hot Ray was powerful, but it had its limits. It wasn't on the level of a true Kryptonian. Against a target with extreme durability, like Stormfront, it was largely ineffective.
Samuel's current defense was already formidable. He could likely tank the beams for a short duration, especially if he had already integrated Maeve's Super Defense. But he preferred to give Homelander a proper surprise.
Just as the beams were about to connect, Samuel activated Dimension Teleportation.
The beams tore through the factory wall behind him, sending a cascade of debris crashing down—but Samuel had vanished.
"Where is he?!" Homelander snarled, his head whipping around.
Suddenly, a familiar sizzling sound echoed in his ears. Homelander whirled around, only to be met by a pair of glowing red eyes that looked like they belonged to a demon.
My Hot Ray? Impossible!
Before Homelander could process the sight, the twin beams struck him full in the chest. He staggered back several steps, his boots skidding across the floor.
The attack didn't cause significant physical damage, but it wounded Homelander's pride more than anything else could. His petty, narrow-minded ego couldn't tolerate anyone else possessing his signature power.
"You're dead!" Homelander hissed, his face a mask of pure rage. He unleashed his Hot Ray again.
Samuel didn't dodge this time. He unleashed his own.
BOOM!
The two sets of identical crimson beams collided in mid-air. The sound of high-energy friction hissed through the factory, the light so blinding it turned the room white. For a moment, the two were locked in a perfect stalemate.