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A shrill metallic screech.
The fully-loaded bus slammed into his pale palm like it had hit an immovable mountain.
The front crumpled visibly, the engine died on the spot, yet Anthony... not a hair out of place.
He even had the leisure to flash the stunned passengers a perfect eight-tooth smile.
"Everyone okay?"
He casually "tore" the door off, lifted the driver out like a chick and set him on the ground.
Ding! Popularity +54!
Ding! Popularity +31!
Ding! Popularity +36!
"Better than nothing..." Anthony sniffed in his head. Another three days gone—2 p.m.
"Robbery! Bank robbery!!"
A black Dodge Charger roared away from the bank, the robbers spraying automatic fire to pin down the arriving NYPD.
"Outta the way! Get the hell out!"
"We're packing heavy! Don't wanna die, then—"
BOOM—!!!
A thunderous bang.
The three robbers never saw what hit them.
"Boss... look up there—what is it?"
The leader glanced up and cursed, "Shit! It's that cape-wearing freak! Open fire! Waste him!"
RATATATATAT—!!!
Three AR-15s spat tongues of flame, 5.56 mm rounds storming toward the figure descending from the sky.
"Ding... ding... clang... clang..."
Every bullet bounced off Anthony's body the instant it touched him, clinking to the asphalt.
"D-devil..."
"Keep going." Anthony smiled, curling a finger at them.
"Fuck!! Die!!" the leader screamed, squeezing the trigger to empty the mag.
"Zzz—"
Anthony's eyes glowed faint red.
The next second, two precise beams of heat vision sliced through the weapons in the three robbers' hands.
"Shhh—!"
The searing heat instantly reddened the gun metal.
"AHHHHHHHH—!!!"
The leader shrieked an inhuman howl.
The AR-15 melted under the heat vision; molten steel and plastic fused... to his hand!
"My hand! My hand!!!" Bandit A wailed, rolling on the ground at the sight of his charcoal-and-metal mess of a palm.
The other two thugs, scared out of their wits, flung their half-melted rifles down and knelt with hands high.
"Don't kill us! We surrender! We surrender!!"
Anthony retracted his gaze, satisfied.
"That's more like it."
He floated down, the star-spangled cape unfurling behind him like a banner.
The cops arrived just in time, gaping at the scene.
"Homelander!!"
"Oh my God, he's so cool!"
"I love you, Homelander!!"
Fans and reporters swarmed in.
"Stay orderly, everyone." Anthony flipped back into "perfect hero" mode, beaming a radiant smile.
He struck his trademark hands-on-hips pose, snapping photos with ecstatic female fans.
"Mr. Homelander! What's your take on this robbery?" a reporter squeezed in.
"I'm glad no New Yorker was hurt," he said solemnly to the camera. "But let me remind would-be criminals—your good days are over while I'm around."
Ding! Popularity +1,250!
Ding! Popularity +825!
Ding! Popularity +762!
"Ding! Slight strength increase!"
Feeling the warm surge inside, Anthony narrowed his eyes in pleasure.
4 p.m., Queens.
"Meow... meow..."
High in a stout oak, a tabby clung to a branch, trembling.
Below, a pig-tailed little girl was on the verge of tears.
"Mimi! Come down! Mimi!"
"Honey, stop crying, let's get a firefighter..."
"No need, ma'am."
A gentle voice came from above.
Mother and daughter looked up to see the sun-drenched, god-like figure.
Anthony drifted down; the frantic cat quieted, licking his gauntleted hand.
He landed before the girl and crouched, tall frame folding.
"Yours, sweetie?"
"...Yes." The child stared, wide-eyed.
"Here you go." He handed the cat over. "Keep an eye on her—she was scared."
"...Thank you, Mr. Homelander!" The girl beamed in awe.
"Wow, he even saves kittens!"
"Now that's a hero!"
Neighbors' phones clicked nonstop.
Ding! Popularity +920!
Ding! Popularity +1,152!
Ding! Popularity +1,163!
"Fucking cat!" Anthony mused. "Still gotta farm this trash popularity... but damn, it's effective—beating up robbers can't top this? What a crazy country."
Yet just as he thought he'd clinch "King of New York Popularity," the system flashed negatives.
Ding! Popularity -15.
Ding! Popularity -40.
Ding! Popularity -22.
Atop his building's open-air pool, Anthony lounged in the sun; his eyes snapped open.
"Hm?"
"Popularity's dipping... not much, but steady."
He frowned—never a good sign.
He idly scrolled social media and quickly found the source... staring at the headlines, he gave a laugh of irritation.
Daily Bugle: "Hero or Next Tyrant?"
NY Post: "Star-Spangled Demon: Must Homelander's Power Be Regulated?"
Fox News guest commentator: "We don't need a god to teach us to cross the street! Yesterday he saved a fire but wrecked half the floor—who pays?"
He grabbed the remote and flicked on the TV.
There, a square-mustached man ranted furiously:
"...He's a threat! A threat wrapped in our flag!!"
The man's left hand jabbed at a high-resolution photo.
It showed the robber whose hand had been welded by heat vision, being carted off by medics—the limb ruined beyond repair.
"Look at this! A hero?!" Jameson's spittle seemed to spray through the screen. "Would a real hero do this?! It's vigilantism! Torture! Abuse!"
"And this!"