"Aren't you," Homelander waves his hand in a vague gesture, his tone deceptively sharp, "tired? Of all this running? It's pathetic, really."

He sighs, crossing his arms.

You're a sorry sight, truly.

"You don't look well," he comments loftily. "All this writhing in the dirt like a hunted animal really doesn't suit you."

Dispassionately, Homelander watches.

Foolishly, you had thought fleeing the country would grant you freedom.

But deep in the remote depths of the Russian wilderness, you struggle with a bear trap locked around one of your bloody calves.

Did Homelander intend for it to happen? No. Was it a happy coincidence? Absolutely. And, it was by your own miscalculation that you got trapped. Of course, it would cause a hiccup in his plans. He didn't want to kill you, obviously. Or seriously maim you.

You're his.

You could hold your own against him, but his powers far outstrip your own. It's. . . Enticing. But he found it quite amusing that such a simple thing like a bear trap could take you down.

"I'm tired of chasing," Homelander drawls, advancing towards you. "Of indulging this little game of yours. Let's stop pretending there's anywhere you can go where I can't—won't find you."

Finally, he comes to a stop at your feet, looming over you.

"Hm?"