Marvel : Homelander

The X-Men stood in a tense circle, the shock of their release by the Phoenix still heavy in the air.

Their minds were spinning, and it was Cyclops who broke the silence, his voice sharp with frustration.

"How the hell does Homelander have more control over the Phoenix than you, Jean?"

Jean Grey, visibly shaken, held herself tightly, her eyes distant as she struggled to answer.

The others stared at her, waiting.

It wasn't just confusion or disbelief—they needed to understand what had just happened, how the most powerful cosmic force in the universe could be influenced by someone.

Jean sighed heavily, running a hand through her hair as memories she had buried deep resurfaced. "It's… it's something that happened four years ago," she began slowly, her voice quieter than usual, her eyes flickering to the faces of her teammates, who were watching her with a mix of concern and anger.

"We were sent to investigate a psionic disturbance. Cerebro had detected a strange energy—something powerful enough to distort the psychic landscape itself. But… you don't remember because he made me wipe your memories of it."

There were gasps and murmurs of disbelief. Wolverine growled under his breath, fists clenched, but didn't interrupt.

Jean continued, her voice tightening with the weight of the truth. "I was close to figuring out what it was… but then we encountered him. Homelander was just a kid back then. Something happened when I confronted him. I don't fully understand it myself, but the Phoenix… it just responded to him. He muttered something after pinning me down, and before I knew it, the Phoenix was listening to him. And he forced me to erase your memories of the whole thing."

Storm took a step forward, her eyes narrowing. "Why? Why would the Phoenix follow him?"

"I don't know," Jean admitted, shaking her head. "I've been trying to figure that out ever since. The Phoenix is an ancient force, bound by its own will. But for some reason, it… likes him. I felt it back then, and I felt it again just now."

"Likes him?" Beast echoed, baffled. "That cosmic entity has destroyed worlds. It doesn't 'like' anyone."

Jean's lips pressed into a thin line, her voice filled with frustration. "I know it doesn't make sense, but that's what I felt. The Phoenix doesn't follow commands, but with him, it's different. There's something about him that draws it in. It's like... he knows how to speak to it, even when he's not fully aware of what he's doing."

Cyclops' jaw tightened, his frustration boiling over. "So, we're supposed to believe that Homelander just, what, commands the Phoenix Force now?"

Jean looked at him with helplessness in her eyes. "It's not that simple. He doesn't command it like I do. It's more like… a mutual surrender. And honestly, I don't know what it means for any of us."

The room fell silent again, the severity of the situation settling in.

Whatever had happened four years ago, whatever Homelander had done or said, it had put him in a position of influence over the most destructive force in the universe.

And now, none of them could predict what that meant for the future.

Wolverine's voice broke the silence, low and rough. "We can't let that stand. We find out how to beat him and then We stop him."

Jean's eyes flickered with uncertainty, but she nodded.

"We have to."

---

Homelander stood in front of Bucky, the Winter Soldier now fully returned from his mission to destroy Zola.

Bucky's cold expression remained unchanged as he delivered the intel.

"The Red Room's last location," Bucky said, handing over a file.

Homelander glanced at it briefly.

He didn't need more details; he had what he needed.

The notorious Red Room, the one that created some of the world's deadliest assassins, was now within reach.

Homelander didn't waste any time.

He took off, the sky splitting behind him as he soared toward the hidden facility.

His mind was already working through what came next.

He had big plans for the widows they had trained, plans that would make Noir's assassin team unrivaled.

Those that survived, they wouldn't go to shield or other organization —they'd be inducted into his new squad.

By the time he arrived at the Red Room's secret base, his decision was made.

He wasn't just here to destroy, though the facility itself would be reduced to rubble soon enough.

No, he was here to recruit. The assassins, especially those already conditioned and deadly, would be perfect additions to the expanding Vought project.

With them, and the assets he already had, his team would be unstoppable.

Noir's squad already included drones equipped with the cutting-edge Mark V armor and all the super soldiers Hydra had experimented on over the years.

Now, with the addition of the widows, it would be better than any elite force assembled by any other power in the world.

And with Bucky—who had accepted the special shot of Compound V that Homelander had designed specifically for him to have the deacy power—they were only getting stronger.

As Homelander approached the Red Room's compound, the plan was already in motion.

---

Homelander landed in the middle of the Red Room facility, the ground beneath his boots cracking from the impact.

The compound, hidden deep in the Siberian wilderness, was larger than he expected, sprawling with personnel, agents, scientists, and guards.

They hadn't even noticed him yet.

But they would.

He moved like a blur, faster than the guards could react, his fists cutting through the air as he tore through the first group.

Blood sprayed the walls as bodies dropped, necks snapped with a twist of his hands, and limbs torn apart with effortless force.

His face remained expressionless, no sign of mercy or regret as he obliterated them.

These were the people who had destroyed many lives without mercy, it was only fair for them to not get mercy in return.

He didn't stop to think, didn't slow down.

A swipe of his hand, and three guards' heads rolled off their shoulders.

A blast of his heat vision, and an entire section of the facility went up in flames.

Screams filled the air, but they were distant, like background noise.

Homelander wasn't here to listen. He was here to end this.

Scientists tried to run, but there was no escaping him.

He flew through the hallways, his heat vision melting through walls, disintegrating everything in his path.

Computers, equipment, data—all gone in seconds.

The menial workers didn't stand a chance.

He didn't bother with them beyond wiping their memories as he passed, their minds erased in an instant.

As he moved deeper into the facility, the elite guards were called in, armed with advanced weaponry.

Bullets ricocheted off his skin, useless as ever.

Homelander grabbed two of the closest guards and slammed them into each other with such a force that their heads shwttered like watermelon.

One guard tried to throw a grenade—Homelander caught it midair, crushed it in his palm, and flicked it back toward them, the explosion wiping out a dozen men.

The entire facility was in chaos now.

Red emergency lights flashed, alarms blared, but it didn't matter.

Homelander moved like a storm, ripping through every person in his way.

He snapped necks, crushed skulls, and turned everything he touched to ash.

Finally, he reached the heart of the facility, where the widows were kept.

A group of them, fully trained and ready to fight, stood before him.

They didn't know who they were up against yet.

He let them make the first move, watching as they attempted to engage him with their advanced combat techniques.

They were fast—faster than most normal humans—but they were nothing compared to him.

He dodged their strikes easily, almost bored, before knocking each one of them unconscious with a single, non-lethal blow.

His fists moved so quickly they didn't even have time to react before they were out cold on the floor.

Unlike the others, the widows were not his targets for destruction.

One by one, as they fell, he reached out to his spatial powers and teleported their bodies into a subspace within himself, storing them for later.

It wasn't the first time he'd done this, but it always felt odd—taking living beings and putting them in a state of suspended animation, inside a pocket dimension he controlled.

The rest of the facility, though, was fair game.

Homelander tore through the remaining workers, his mind barely registering their pleas.

They were just obstacles—obstacles that he removed with the flick of a wrist, a blast of heat vision, or the crush of his hand.

The sounds of dying men and women, the crumbling infrastructure, the explosions from destroyed equipment—it all blurred together as the facility crumbled around him.

By the time he was done, nothing remained of the Red Room but ashes and twisted metal.

The widows were safely inside his subspace, ready for their new roles.

Everyone else—dead or brain wiped.

After wiping the Red Room from existence, Homelander wasted no time moving on to the next phase of his plan.

The Red Room might have been a relic, but its roots in the Russian government ran deep, and there were key officials who had the means and motivation to bring it back to life.

He couldn't allow that.

Not when he'd just put an end to decades of suffering and manipulation.

Hovering above Moscow, his eyes scanned the city below.

Homelander didn't need intelligence reports or detailed schematics—he had already memorized every detail he needed, every face, every name.

A total of 39 officials, each of them in key positions of power, had ties to the Red Room.

They would be dead before sunrise.

The first was a general, stationed in a military base on the outskirts of the city.

Homelander dropped from the sky, his landing so silent and swift that no one noticed him until it was too late.

He walked through the base undetected, his senses on high alert.

He found the general in his office, alone.

There was no need for dramatics here.

A quick, precise blast of heat vision, and the man was split in two.

One down.

Homelander moved quickly, leaving no time for a response.

In the heart of the Kremlin, several key politicians were holding a late-night meeting, discussing state matters that no longer mattered.

He ripped through the walls like they were paper, and before they even had time to scream, he ended them with a flick of his wrist that busected their bodies like sword through butter.

Their bodies crumpled like ragdolls, their deaths swift and unnoticed by the world outside.

Two, three, four… Homelander moved methodically, wiping out officials scattered across Russia.

A businessman funding secret military projects, a scientist heading the remnants of Hydra's experiments, a high-ranking military strategist—all of them met the same fate.

When he finally reached the right-hand man of the president, the man was at home, surrounded by luxury in his private estate.

Homelander didn't bother with subtlety.

He blasted through the walls of the estate, his heat vision cutting a swath of destruction in its wake.

The man barely had time to stand before Homelander appeared before him, a flash of terror in his eyes as he realized what was happening.

"You should've stayed out of it," Homelander said, his voice cold and detached.

The man's screams were cut short as Homelander incinerated him where he stood, leaving nothing but ash and a scorched silhouette on the floor.

Thirty-nine officials. Thirty-nine loose ends tied up in the span of minutes.

Homelander floated above Moscow once more, surveying the silent, unaware city.

He'd wiped out every person who could resurrect the Red Room.

His work was done.

He vanished into the night, leaving no trace of his direct presence, no evidence of what had been done.

---

Natasha stirred, her body feeling weightless as she opened her eyes to an otherworldly sight.

Huge, floating cubical columns drifted in the air above her, like something out of a fantasy dream.

She blinked, taking in the impossible view, her mind racing to understand what had just happened.

She'd been in the Red Room. Training, like always.

And then, nothing. Just darkness. Now she was here, wherever "here" was.

She sat up slowly, her muscles aching from the sudden shift in environment, but the ground beneath her—though it looked like rough concrete—felt strangely soft, more comfortable than anything she had experienced in the Red Room.

Natasha glanced around, her sharp eyes catching the faint shimmer in the air that surrounded the space.

There was no sky, no horizon, just endless starry void, with those massive cubes floating lazily in the distance.

As her memory sharpened, she recalled the last moments she was awake—flashes of him.

Homelander.

The so-called hero.

She knew him, of course.

His reputation as a hero had reached every corner of the globe.

She'd seen the news reports, the articles, the interviews.

But to be saved by him? That was never part of the plan.

A small smile crept across her face as she laid back down, relaxing for what felt like the first time in years.

It wasn't what she expected—a hero coming to her rescue.

Guess I was wrong about that.

She closed her eyes briefly, letting herself enjoy the comfort, the stillness.

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Apparently some hated the last chapter so I'll just upload this one early your loss since there won't be uploads for two days now.!

Stones and Reviews please

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