“So… all you do in this is… kill zombies… and run away from that big guy, whatever his name is, like a pussy?”

Homelander’s voice dripped with confusion and judgment, a mixture of disbelief and mild disdain in his tone as he watched the game unfold. His arms were crossed tightly over his chest as he leaned against the couch, his sharp eyes following every pixelated movement on the screen. It was obvious he didn’t understand the appeal of it all, and it was even clearer that he wasn’t impressed.

Being raised in a lab, he never had the chance to experience things that most normal, non-superpowered kids did. He never had a childhood—no video games, no downtime, no chance to enjoy things that didn’t involve intense training or mind-bending experiments. For him, it was all about power, control, and perfection. His existence had been anything but normal, so when you suggested playing a video game, it was a completely foreign concept to him.

Still, you wanted to share something you loved with him, something that didn’t require him to be a superhero or to have everything under control. So, one evening, you put on Resident Evil 3, one of your favorites, and let him watch you play. You thought it would be fun to show him the world of survival horror—scary, thrilling, and something you could both experience without the constant weight of his godlike abilities hanging in the air. But it wasn’t quite going as planned.

You were currently dodging zombies and trying to avoid the terrifying Nemesis, a towering figure who seemed to relentlessly pursue the player. As you sprinted through the game, Homelander’s confused stare never left the screen, his expression one of growing frustration.

“So… this is it?” he asked again, his brow furrowing as you ducked behind a barricade to escape Nemesis’s wrath. He couldn’t seem to comprehend why you’d choose to run instead of stand and fight. “You’re not even trying to take him down. You just keep running.“