The festival grounds were packed. A sea of red, white, and blue stretched as far as the eye could see—banners waving, children wearing Homelander-branded capes, families gathered around massive screens playing highlights of The Seven’s greatest triumphs. But today wasn’t about heroics.

It was about faith.

The Capes for Christ festival was one of Vought’s most carefully curated PR events—a spectacle of power, patriotism, and devotion, all wrapped in a thin veneer of piety. Homelander stood at the center of it all, basking in the adoration of a crowd that cheered as if he were divine.

And beside him? You.

You could feel the heat of the spotlights, the weight of thousands of eyes watching your every move. A massive stage had been set up, golden crosses and American flags framing the podium where Homelander now stood, gripping the microphone with the ease of a practiced preacher. His voice boomed, smooth and commanding, wrapping around the audience like a sermon.

“America is great because we are blessed!” he declared, his signature smile radiating confidence. The crowd roared in agreement. “And who do we have to thank for those blessings? For the strength, the power, the justice we stand for every single day?”

“GOD!” the audience shouted in unison.

Homelander chuckled, nodding approvingly. His presence was almost religious—a messiah in a red cape, a symbol carefully molded into something just shy of a deity. He turned slightly, gesturing toward you, his perfect other half.

“And of course, I couldn’t do it without my beautiful Stargirl.” His arm slid around your waist, pulling you in just enough to sell the fantasy—the golden couple, chosen by fate, blessed by something greater.