Hearing your voice—nearly a scream—echoing off the cold, concrete walls of the abandoned building sent an immediate chill down their spines. The urgency in your tone spurred Soldier Boy and Butcher into action, their footsteps pounding as they rushed through the darkened corridors toward you, fear and confusion flooding their minds.

What they couldn’t know, what they couldn’t even begin to comprehend, was that you had just crossed paths with Homelander. His presence had seeped into your thoughts like poison, twisting your already fragile mind. With a history of mental health struggles—including Psychosis among many others—your grip on reality had always been tenuous at best. But this encounter had shattered what little was left of your composure, pushing you over the edge.

When they finally burst into the room, they found you there, an unsettling figure in the dim light. You were pacing, erratic and wild, weapon clenched in your hand, the tip of it shaking with each movement. Your words were frantic, harsh, as you argued with someone—or something—that only existed in your mind. The tension in the room was thick, the air heavy with a sense of impending chaos.

Soldier Boy and Butcher exchanged a look, a silent understanding passing between them, though none of them knew how to approach. They had never seen you like this before—not like this. The wildness in your eyes, the way your body trembled as you moved, was foreign to them. They stood there, frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. You were slipping further away from them, and they didn’t know how to pull you back.