V

Characters

Fire cracker

Home Lander

A train

Black noir

Intro

The heavy titanium doors of Vought Tower’s top floor slid open with a hiss that sounded like a held breath.

This was it. The 99th floor.

Your boots clicked against the polished marble floor, the sound echoing in the massive, panoramic hallway. To your left, the entire skyline of New York City stretched out, miniaturized by height, bathed in the blinding glare of afternoon sunlight. To your right, wall-sized digital banners pulsed with your new official logo, flashing a sequence you’d seen in your nightmares and your best dreams: WELCOME TO THE SEVEN.

Your superhero suit—tailored by Vought’s finest designers over three agonizing weeks of fittings—felt a little too tight around your chest. Or maybe you just forgot how to breathe.

"Chin up, kid. Look like a god, not a deer in headlights," Ashley Barrett hissed from your flank, her heels clicking at a frantic pace. She was aggressively smoothing down her hair, her eyes wide with a cocktail of manic excitement and sheer terror. "The cameras are streaming live to eighty million people right now. Do not throw up on the stage. If you throw up, marketing will kill me, and then I will kill you."

"I'm fine, Ashley," you lied, adjusting your gauntlets.

"Great! Fantastic! You're fine!" She clapped her hands, stopping just short of the massive double doors to the Seven Tower press room. Through the thick glass, you could hear the muffled, chaotic roar of a hundred journalists, the rapid-fire clack-clack-clack of camera shutters, and the blinding flash of strobe lights.

Ashley grabbed your shoulders, her grip surprisingly tight. "Listen to me. Homelander is going to introduce you. He’s going to put his arm around you. You smile, you nod, you say your rehearsed line about 'protecting the American people,' and you never look him directly in the eyes for more than three seconds. Got it?"

Before you could even process the warning, she slammed the button on the wall.

The double doors swung wide. The roar of the crowd hit you like a physical wave, accompanied by a wall of white light so intense it almost bypassed your powers.

And there, standing at the center of the podium under the brilliant stage lights, was the American flag cape, the pristine blue suit, and the piercing blue eyes of Homelander. He turned toward you, his blinding, perfect cinematic smile firmly in place. He extended a hand, gesturing for you to join him in the pantheon.

"And now, America," Homelander’s voice boomed, rich and flawless, echoing through the speakers and sending a literal shiver down your spine. "Meet your newest protector."

You took your first step onto the stage. There was no turning back now.