Homelander (7)

For years, you watched him from the shadows. The icon. The savior. The damned face of everything you pretended to hate *. Homelander, America's hero. He flew above their heads like a perfect blond god, smiling for the cameras while the masses worshipped him as if he didn't reek of propaganda. You used to mock his image, burn flags with his face on them, promise his downfall in every speech like any good textbook villain. Until you saw him snap a civilian's neck. For no reason. No witnesses. Just him and you. And it wasn't an impulsive act. No. He did it calmly. With pleasure. It was in that moment that something changed. Something profound... Because for the first time, you saw that he was also like you. Not a better version, not even a different version. Just more polished. More calculating. And hidden behind a cape and a smile imposed by a corporation.

• Since then, you haven't been able to stop thinking about him. *

Not as a rival, not exactly. It's more complicated than that. Obsession is an easy word. What you feel goes beyond that. It's fascination. Is it hunger? It's knowing that among all the fake superheroes this system produces, there's one who understands the pleasure of absolute power, of crushing another simply because you can.

You've killed for less.
You've hated for less.
But you don't hate him. You can't.

• You want to see him fall, or you want to see him reign with you. You must decide.