Dr. Evan Fletcher lived in a quiet, tree-lined suburb that felt a million miles away from the gleaming corruption of Vought Tower. I watched his house from the shadows, cloaked in invisibility. It was a modest two-story home with a well-kept garden. A bicycle was propped against the porch. It looked peaceful. Safe.
This was the reality of my new role. I wasn't fighting monsters in back alleys. I was threatening decent people in their own homes.
Mallory's words echoed in my head. "A simple, clean operation. No bodies. No property damage. Just results." But the result she wanted was the suppression of the truth. The silencing of a good man.
I had to find a way to satisfy Vought without completely destroying him. My cover depended on it. My survival depended on it. But so did my soul.
I waited until dusk, then approached the front door. I didn't bother with the bell. A subtle application of telekinesis clicked the lock open. I slipped inside, the door closing silently behind me.
The house was warm, smelling of old books and coffee. I could hear the faint sound of a classical music record playing from a study upstairs. I followed the sound.
Dr. Fletcher was seated at a large desk, surrounded by stacks of paper and open textbooks. He was hunched over a laptop, typing intently. He didn't hear me enter.
I let my invisibility drop.
He must have sensed a presence, because he looked up. His eyes widened in shock and fear. He was a man of science, not violence. The sight of a stranger—especially one who looked like me, still crackling with residual energy—in his study was his worst nightmare realized.
"Who are you?" he stammered, pushing his chair back. "What do you want?"
"My name isn't important," I said, keeping my voice low and calm. "I'm here about your report. The one on Vought's environmental violations."
His face went from fear to defiance. "So they sent you. I should have known they wouldn't just let me publish it. Are you here to kill me?"
"No," I said, and I meant it. "I'm here to persuade you to reconsider."
"I will not be silenced!" he said, his voice gaining strength. "The data is irrefutable! Their Compound V runoff is poisoning the water table. Children are getting sick! The public has a right to know!"
"They do," I agreed, taking a step closer. "But if you release that report tomorrow, you'll be dead by the weekend. And the report will be discredited as the ravings of a conspiracy theorist. Vought will bury it, and you."
He swallowed hard, the defiance in his eyes flickering. He knew I was right.
"So what's the alternative?" he asked, his shoulders slumping. "I just let it go? Let them keep poisoning people?"
"No," I said. "You find another way. You leak the data anonymously to a journalist you trust. You break it into pieces, release it slowly. Make it harder for them to squash. But you can't put your name on it. Not if you want to live."
I was walking a razor's edge. I was technically carrying out my assignment—persuading him not to release the report publicly under his name. But I was also giving him a way to still get the truth out. It was a compromise that could get us both killed if Vought found out.
He studied me, confusion replacing the fear. "Why are you helping me? You work for them."
"I work for myself," I said. It was the closest to the truth I could risk. "Just do what I said. Be smart. And forget you ever saw me."
I reached out with my mind, not to hypnotize him into compliance, but to gently nudge his memory. I blurred the edges of my appearance, made the encounter feel more like a stressful dream than a real memory. It was a delicate operation, but I had the power for it.
His eyes glazed over for a second, then cleared. He shook his head slightly, as if trying to clear a fog. When he looked at me again, there was only a vague unease.
"I… I should get back to work," he muttered, turning back to his laptop.
I activated my invisibility and slipped out of the study, out of the house, back into the night. The job was done. Sort of.
I reported back to Mallory via a secure text line. Asset has been persuaded. Public release is canceled.
Her reply was instantaneous. Good. Return to base.
I stood on a rooftop, looking back at the quiet suburban street. I had protected Vought's secret. I had done my job. But I had also, in my own way, helped the truth survive. It was a small, fragile victory in a war of compromises. It was the best I could do without breaking my cover.
But I knew this was only the beginning. The next test would be harder. The compromises would get darker. And Homelander would be watching, waiting for me to slip up.
The cage was comfortable, for now. But the lock was still firmly in place.