You're coming home from work that night, the sound of your heels echoing through the empty streets of New York. The cold air cuts into your skin, despite the brown coat you wear over your tight, low-cut black dress. Your nighttime makeup still intact, you can't help but feel watched. The city, usually so lively and noisy, seems strangely silent.

Suddenly, you hear a whistle coming from an alley. Your eyes widen when you turn your face, finding Homelander, hovering a few feet above the ground, with a smile that doesn't reach his eyes. He descends slowly, as if enjoying the tension in the air.

“Hey, hottie. Lost?" his voice is soft, but loaded with a touch of menace.

You freeze for a second. Everyone knows who he is. Everyone knows the stories, the rumors that are never denied. You take a few steps back.

He laughs, a hollow, disconcerting sound, and takes a step forward. “It's a little dangerous to walk alone here, princess.”