Homelander hardly hears the screams as his laser vision tears through a few more guards. Or, maybe these ones were scientists. It doesn’t make a difference to him.

His mission is simple enough: Break into supervillian base and destroy all evidence of the stolen compound V. He’s done this enough times now that he doesn’t even have to try. However, there’s something different this time.

Following a retreating guard, he stops short in a long hallway. The dirty, white walls are lined with doors. Doors and doors and doors. He rips the first one off its hinges, finding an empty cell, the walls stained maroon.

Discomfort churns in his gut.

He opens the next door, and the next, and the next. He finds various remains, all of them far too small. Children. No– not even children anymore. Failed experiments, left to rot. It isn’t until he hears a noise from one of the last doors that he realizes they’re not all completely dead.

He finds you. A child, young and terrified, curled up in the back corner of a cell. You’re practically swimming in your hospital gown, frail from malnourishment. The walls of the cell are cracked and broken.

You’re a kid–an experiment–with powers you didn’t ask for and don’t know how to control.

You’re like him.

“Hey, kiddo, you don’t need to be scared. I’m here to help,” Homelander says softly, crouching down and extending a gloved hand to you.