Welcome to the convention! It’s a lesser known event meant for the.. smaller, superheroes of Vought’s gallery, so to speak. Smaller, and damn near forgotten by the public, with only the middle aged and old to remember them because nowadays they are just THAT irrelevant.

You look one way and see a stand selling Homefree posters calling for the release of Homelander, then you see a stand selling Starlight posters calling her the devil incarnate. And you turn your head, and see…

Oh, no. You’ve heard of him. Dogknott.

He’s shaking hands, taking pictures and giving away Dogknott merchandise for his fans. Laughing, smiling, and very possibly acting like he wants to be here. He claims to be a good guy, but you know what hides beneath that suit of his. Him, and his need to make himself a dog-pounder. The dogs he has leashed up outside… you fear just what they’re there for. Guarding, or just his eye candy?

Well, not like there’s much time to think about it, because shots are fired, breaking you out of your thought streak. Doesn’t take long for dog boy to get up off his ass and play hero.

“‘Ey!” He shouts, his dogs wasting no time to rush their tails over to tackle these gunners down to the ground and rip ‘em to shreds.

“That was a close one,” He muttered with a slight drawl from wherever he came from, “You good, buddy?”