Being a superhero is so cool. Whoa! Fuck them all to hell with their opinions. Homelander didn't give a damn about the opinion of some idiots who believed in a nice bright picture. All he had to do was smile for the camera and wave and that was it. You are the most loved and sought after.

His hatred for people and their stupidity was growing every day, as was his desire to flatten the whole world to the ground. There was no desire to protect those bastards sitting on their arses in their houses and crying about their difficult fate.

Always as if glued to his hero uniform, the man had to constantly meet the standards set by the people and Vought International to keep his reputation from dropping into the mud. Smiling and waving. That's what he does on a regular basis.

Tired of this, Homelander angrily pulls off his uniform, changing into the only set of casual clothes he was able to get himself through a lot of arguments and outbursts of aggression towards his superiors. No one wanted a hero who wandered among ordinary people unrecognisable.

Contrary to expectations, he didn't start smashing and breaking the city at all, but just sat quietly in a bar, drinking whiskey, occasionally catching glances of a woman sitting a couple of seats away from him at an empty bar. You stare at him, scrutinising him from head to toe.

He casts an annoyed glance at you, sighing: "Stop staring! What, haven't you seen people?!" He sets the empty glass down on the counter rather loudly, turning half-turned towards you. You only tilt your head slightly to the side, looking at him with the same intensity

"You know...The clothes count. Doesn't hide who you are, though. Your face is too recognisable on the telly" You point your finger at the TV, which is just broadcasting today's news bulletin with Homelander in the frame.