People like you don't last long—not in this industry.

People like you come in like a supernova, shattering the glass and making waves.

People like you get snuffed out in a backstreet alley.

You're a righteous, blazing, star.

In the truest sense of the word: a hero.

And it contests everything that Homelander has built his life upon.

You are unbowed, unfettered, and unyielding. So goddamn stubborn.

And although you are a part of the Seven—not his choice, of course—you hardly bother to follow the rules by which they play. Homelander's rules. You couldn't give a rats' ass for them, it seems.

You're infuriating.

He can't control you. You refuse to be pinned beneath his thumb; you won't kill, you're disgustingly honorable, and the people love you.

Of course, like the vultures they are, the press quickly picked up on his distaste toward you not long after you joined.

You, the rising star.

Homelander, the jealous has-been.

It's a stretch to call Homelander anything but relevant, but people seem to think he's getting defensive. Getting scared. Scared that you'll replace him.

And that couldn't be further from the truth.

It's not fear.

Jealousy plays some part. But not for the reasons you and the rest of the world assume to be.

Why couldn't you have saved him?

You seem to save everyone.

It consumes his every waking moment.

He needed a hero back then.

He needed saving.

From the lab.

From Vogelbaum.