Chapter 83: Don't Let Him Be Like His Father
"Billy Butcher."
The voice outside wasn't raised, yet it pinned Becca's hand to the doorknob.
She stood behind the door for a long time, the steak knife still lying at her feet, as the sound of Ryan moving a chair came from the second floor.
"Where did you hear that name?"
Becca latched the door chain, her other hand reaching for the spare phone in the entryway cabinet.
Ren stood outside the door, not taking a single step forward.
"From a foul-tempered, foul-mouthed British bastard who's been looking for his wife for many years."
Becca's breathing hitched for a beat before she quickly suppressed it.
"Vought can make up stories like that. They know him, they know me, and they know how to get people to open the door."
"Vought wouldn't say that Butcher lives as tenaciously as a cockroach."
Ren paused, his tone dropping lower.
"And they certainly wouldn't tell you that he's spent all these years thinking you were dead."
Silence fell behind the door.
Ren heard Becca grab the edge of the cabinet, her nails scratching a short sound against the wood.
Ryan called out from the second floor.
"Mom, are you okay?"
Becca turned her head toward the stairs, forcing her voice to remain steady.
"I'm fine, honey. Stay in your room, don't come out."
Ryan didn't answer, the sound of slippers scuffing against the floor.
"Who's at the door?"
Ren looked up at the second-floor window.
"Just a passerby who isn't selling insurance."
Ryan paused, then whispered back.
"That's much better than the Vought Instructor."
Becca turned the lock inside the door one more time.
"Don't talk to him."
Ren cooperatively shut his mouth for two seconds before speaking again.
"I don't have to come in, Becca. I just need to confirm two things."
Becca's voice came from behind the door.
"I'm not going with you, and I won't let you take Ryan."
"I never said I was taking him."
"Then why are you here?"
"To see that you're both still alive, and to ask you one question: what do you truly want?"
Becca gave a short, bitter laugh.
"What do I want? Every time you people come, you ask so politely, and then you take even more away."
Ren didn't argue.
"That's why I'm standing outside the door."
Becca looked down at the knife on the floor but didn't pick it up.
"Is Billy really still alive?"
"Alive, with a worse temper than before, and a beard that's beyond saving."
Becca's hand slipped from the doorknob, but she quickly pressed it back.
"Has he... remarried?"
Ren was silenced for half a second by the question.
"With that mouth of his, finding you was already the absolute peak of his performance in the dating market."
A low breath came from behind the door; Becca seemed to laugh, yet also seemed unable to stop herself from crying.
"Does he hate me?"
"He thought you were dead. He hates a lot of people; the list is long enough to be a phone book."
Ren looked toward the security booth, where the guards were still dealing with the cut surveillance feed.
"But his search for you has never stopped."
Becca leaned against the door, her shoulder pressed against the wood, taking several breaths before she could speak clearly.
"Don't let him come here."
Ren's answer was without hesitation.
"I was thinking the same thing."
Becca looked up.
"You don't understand. If he comes, he'll die, or he'll kill many people and let Ryan see it."
"I understand a little."
"You don't."
Becca interrupted him, her voice urgent and low.
"When Billy sees that child's face, who do you think he'll be reminded of? He loves me, but this would tear him apart."
Ren didn't follow up with a witty remark.
The house fell silent. From behind the door on the second floor came the sound of Ryan's breathing as he pressed against the wood to eavesdrop.
Becca wiped her face and turned to call upstairs.
"Ryan, go turn on the TV. Turn the volume up a bit."
"Mom, I finished my homework."
"Then you're rewarded with ten minutes of TV."
Ryan hesitated.
"Really? Not the kind of 'reward' Vought gives where there's a test afterward?"
Becca softened her voice.
"Really, honey."
The sound of the TV rose from the second floor, a children's show host explaining game rules in an exaggerated tone.
Only then did Becca look back toward the door.
"What does he go by now?"
Ren knew she was asking about Butcher.
"He's still Billy. Hasn't changed his name, hasn't changed his temper."
"Is he hurt?"
"Often. Minor injuries are daily, major ones are like clocking in for a shift."
Becca cursed under her breath.
"Bastard."
"That's an accurate assessment. I'll pass it on for you—might even charge him extra for the delivery."
Becca didn't laugh. She pressed her forehead against the door, her voice finally cracking.
"I didn't abandon him back then."
Ren watched the sliver of light under the door and didn't rush her.
"They told me that if I ever contacted Billy, he would die."
Becca slapped her hand against the door—a weak strike, but it made the chain rattle.
"They also told me that if I didn't behave, Ryan would be taken away, and a different group of people would teach him how to smile, how to stand, and how to face a camera."
Ren spoke.
"Vought is very good at that."
"That's how Homelander came to be."
When Becca mentioned that name, even the TV couldn't drown out her trembling.
She paused for a few seconds before continuing.
"Ryan isn't him."
Ren didn't respond.
Becca, as if afraid he wouldn't believe her, began to speak faster.
"He shares his cookies with the neighbor's dog. He feels bad for half a day if he accidentally steps on a bug. He secretly peels off the hero stickers the Vought Instructorgives him."
Ryan suddenly shouted from upstairs.
"Mom, I didn't peel them! The stickers were just bad quality!"
Becca closed her eyes.
Ren couldn't help himself.
"The kid's pretty good at shifting blame. Healthier than his biological father."
"Don't talk about him like that."
Becca's tone changed instantly.
"He is not a clone of Homelander, he is not Vought's asset, and he is certainly not a reason for Billy's revenge."
Ren nodded and spoke through the door.
"I know."
"You don't know."
Becca unlatched the door chain but didn't open the door fully, only leaving a crack.
She stood inside, her face pale, with traces of tears still in her eyes.
"Whenever anyone sees Ryan, the first person they see is Homelander."
Ren looked at her through the crack in the door.
Becca blocked the doorway, keeping the second floor out of his line of sight.
"Vought sees a specimen, Homelander sees a legacy, and reporters see breaking news."
She paused, her voice dropping to a whisper.
"And Billy... Billy might only see that night."
Ren didn't deny it.
"That's why I won't let him come here for now."
Becca looked at him, her hand still resting on the edge of the door.
"Can you stop Billy?"
"I can talk him down for a while. If necessary, I can knock him out."
"Can you stop Vought?"
"I can tear down a few of their floors. After-sales service doesn't include renovations."
Becca stared at him.
"And Homelander?"
The casualness on Ren's face faded slightly.
"If he comes, I'll block him."
Becca was not comforted by those words.
"Do you even know what he is?"
"I know."
"You don't know that when he holds someone and says he loves them, his fingers can crush their bones."
Ren didn't interrupt.
"You don't know that when he stands smiling in front of a child, the child will think that's who they're supposed to become."
Becca gripped the edge of the door so hard her knuckles turned white.
"I don't care how much Vought's stock drops, I don't care if they hold press conferences, and I don't care if the whole world curses Homelander."
She glanced toward the second floor, her voice so low it was almost just breath.
"I only care about Ryan."
Standing outside, Ren finally stopped joking around.
Becca turned back and looked at him through the crack in the door.
"If you really are a Preservation Walker, then help me with one thing."
"Name it."
"Don't let Vought take him away."
"I can do that."
"Don't let Billy use him for revenge."
"I'll stop him."
"Don't let Homelander pull him in front of the cameras and tell the world that's his son."
Ren fell silent for a moment.
Becca took half a step forward, the crack in the door narrowing even further.
"And one last thing."
Ren looked at her.
Becca's voice was steady this time.
"Don't let him become a monster like his father."
The sound of children cheering came from the TV upstairs, and Ryan gave a small laugh along with it.
That laugh drifted through the floorboards and reached the door.
Ren didn't answer immediately.
As Becca watched his hesitation, the small light in her eyes began to sink away.
"If you can't do it, don't give me hope."
Ren raised his hand and pressed it against the doorframe, not touching the door and not crossing the threshold.
"Becca, I can save people, I can fight, and I can tear down Vought's walls until their finance department cries all night."
He paused, his voice steady and firm.
"But teaching a child not to go astray... that's not something you do with fists."
Becca looked at him.
Ren continued.
"So for this, I can't just say I'll beat Homelander."
"Then what do you say?"
"I promise you."
Becca's tears hit the threshold. She made no sound, only slowly closing the door.
Before the door shut completely, she asked one last question.
"Does Billy still love me?"
Ren looked at her.
"He's too stubborn to ever admit it, but the fact that he's still alive is basically held together by that one thing."
Becca closed the door, and the lock clicked back into place.
The sound of her footsteps going upstairs echoed through the house, followed by Ryan's low question.
"Mom, is the person outside gone?"
Becca held him, her voice drifting down through the floorboards.
"Soon."
Ren stood outside the yard, restoring the camera at the entrance to a malfunctioning static screen and erasing the traces of his presence from the surveillance blind spots.
As he turned to leave, a new command suddenly crackled over the security booth's walkie-talkie.
"Headquarters query authorization change. The 79th Flooris taking temporary control of this community's files."
The guard frowned and picked up the receiver.
"79th Floor? Whose authorization?"
The static cleared for half a second, and Ashley's voice came through, so tense it was distorted.
"Don't ask questions. All personnel leave the perimeter of the target house, immediately."
Ren stopped in his tracks and looked up at the clouds.
High in the distance, a red and blue figure was descending toward the residential area.
Chapter 84: Dad Comes Knocking
High up in the distance, a red and blue figure landed on the lawn outside the community without alerting the security guards at the gate.
The walkie-talkie inside the security booth was still buzzing, and Ashley's voice had shifted into a frantic pitch.
"Evacuate, I said evacuate! Don't ask about authorization, don't look at the target house, just get out of here."
One of the guards gripped the receiver, sweat beading on his forehead.
"But our orders are to secure the Mother and the Child. The 79th Floor hasn't given an evacuation code."
There was a half-second of silence on the other end of the walkie-talkie, then Homelander's voice took over.
"I am the evacuation code."
The guard's hand shook, and the receiver clattered onto the table.
The other guard was just about to reach for his gun when Homelander appeared outside the booth, watching him through the glass.
"How long have you been guarding my family?"
The guard opened his mouth, struggling to squeeze out a sentence.
"Sir, we are just following Vought security protocols."
Homelander nodded, wearing that same smile from his commercials.
"Security protocols. How thoughtful."
The next second, he ripped the security booth door open with one hand, sending the hinges flying into the wall.
The two guards didn't dare move, holding their breath.
Homelander leaned over to pick up the file folder on the table, flipping to the page with Ryan's photo. His finger lingered on the boy's face for a few seconds.
"Eight years old."
He pulled the photo out and stuffed it into his pocket.
"Eight years. You've had him living here for eight years."
The guard kept his head down.
"This was Edgar's arrangement."
Homelander looked up at the little white house, his smile unchanged.
"Then he'd better have a very good explanation ready."
Inside the little white house, Becca had just brought Ryan back to his bedroom.
Ryan sat on the edge of the bed, clutching his soccer ball, and whispered.
"Mom, did that person outside really leave?"
Becca pulled the curtains shut and moved the chair back to its original position.
"He's gone. Don't go near the window again."
Ryan looked down at the soccer ball.
"He mentioned Billy. Is that Dad?"
Becca's movements froze, but she quickly resumed straightening the blanket on the bed.
"Some things will have to wait until you're older."
Ryan looked up.
"Vought Instructor says the same thing. Every time they don't want to answer, they say wait until I'm older."
Becca walked over and crouched in front of him.
"I am not Vought Instructor."
Ryan looked at her, his voice dropping even lower.
"Then will you lie to me, too?"
Becca reached out to place a hand on his shoulder, but before she could speak, the doorbell rang downstairs.
The sound was ordinary, but ringing inside this house, it made Becca's hand freeze in mid-air.
Ryan heard it too, and he clutched the soccer ball tighter.
"Mom?"
Becca stood up, opened the closet door, and pushed him inside.
"Get in. Don't make a sound."
Ryan shook his head.
"I don't want to. I don't like hiding."
Becca whispered urgently.
"Ryan, listen to me this once."
The doorbell rang again.
This time, the person outside spoke.
"Becca."
Becca's face went pale.
Ryan peeked out through the crack in the closet door.
"He knows you."
Becca pushed the closet door shut.
"Be quiet, baby, please."
As she went downstairs, her steps were slow, and she gripped the table knife in her hand again.
There was no impatience from outside. Homelander stood under the porch, holding Ryan's photo in his hand.
"Becca, I know you're in there."
Becca asked through the door.
"How did you find this place?"
Homelander chuckled.
"I have eyes, I have ears, and I have a company that owes me a lot of answers."
Becca did not open the door.
"You can't be here."
"I can't?"
Homelander pressed his hand against the door panel, and the wood let out a sharp, cracking sound.
"My son lives here, and I have to ask for your permission?"
Becca took half a step back, the tip of the knife pointed at the crack in the door.
"He is not your property."
It was quiet outside for a few seconds.
Homelander's tone softened again, so soft it was chilling.
"Becca, I don't want to scare him today. I even bought a gift."
He raised his other hand, which indeed held a brand-new baseball glove.
"Boys like this, right? That's what I saw in the commercials."
Becca swallowed the rest of her sentence and just turned the lock another notch.
"Leave."
Homelander looked down at the glove, his thumb brushing against the edge of the leather.
"I practiced my opening line."
Becca didn't answer.
He continued.
"I wanted to knock first, smile, and then tell him I'm his dad."
A faint sound of the closet door rubbing came from upstairs.
Homelander looked up.
Becca's voice was urgent.
"Ryan, don't come out."
Hearing the name, Homelander's smile deepened.
"Ryan."
There was no more sound upstairs.
Homelander stepped forward, and the lock deformed under his palm.
"That's a nice name. Who picked it?"
Becca gripped the knife, her wrist pressed against the door frame.
"Don't touch this door."
Homelander lowered his head and spoke to her through the door panel.
"You've hidden my son for eight years, and now you're giving me orders?"
Becca didn't back down.
"Vought locked me in here, Homelander. You know very well what they would do to a child."
Homelander's hand paused.
"What they did to me is what made me who I am today."
Becca's voice tightened.
"That is exactly why I won't let you see him."
He pressed a dent into the door panel.
"What do you mean?"
Footsteps sounded on the stairs; Ryan had come down after all.
He stood at the landing of the stairs, clutching his soccer ball, his face full of unease.
"Mom, who is he?"
Becca turned and rushed over, blocking the stairs.
"Go back to your room."
After hearing the child's voice, Homelander crushed the lock completely.
The door opened.
He stood at the doorway without stepping inside, his gaze landing on Ryan.
"Hi."
Ryan shrank back behind Becca.
Homelander held up the baseball glove, his tone very soft.
"I brought you a gift."
Ryan didn't take it.
Becca blocked his line of sight.
"You shouldn't have come."
Homelander's smile faltered for a beat before returning to his face.
"Ryan, my name is Homelander."
Ryan whispered.
"I know. You're on TV."
Homelander took a step forward, his boots crushing the broken lock.
"Did the TV tell you that I'm your dad?"
Ryan's hand loosened, and the soccer ball rolled down the steps, bumping against Homelander's feet.
Becca pushed Ryan back.
"Don't listen to him."
Homelander looked down at the ball, then at the child.
"I am your dad."
Ryan's face retreated behind Becca, leaving only half visible.
"Mom said my dad isn't here."
Homelander's expression finally turned cold.
"She lied to you."
Becca raised her hand to shield Ryan.
"I didn't lie to him. I'm protecting him."
Homelander threw the baseball glove onto the sofa.
"Protecting him from me?"
Becca stared at him.
"From Vought, from the cameras, from you."
Homelander walked closer, his voice dropping lower.
"You're putting me in the same category as them?"
Becca shielded Ryan and stepped back.
"You're standing in my house right now, stepping on my broken lock, asking me that."
Homelander reached out to touch Ryan's hair.
Becca slapped his hand away.
"Don't touch him."
The living room went quiet.
Ryan was shielded behind Becca, his breathing ragged and unable to hide.
Homelander looked down at his hand that had been slapped away, and after several seconds, he spoke.
"You won't let me see my own son?"
Becca didn't back down.
"You scared him."
Homelander looked up at Ryan, his tone softening again.
"I didn't scare you, did I? We're a family, son."
Ryan grabbed the corner of Becca's shirt.
"Mom, I want to go upstairs."
Homelander's face darkened.
"See? You've corrupted him."
Becca gritted her teeth.
"He's just afraid of you."
Homelander reached out and grabbed Becca's arm, his fingers digging in, the bones making a teeth-grinding sound.
Becca let out a muffled groan but still pushed Ryan further behind her.
Ryan shouted.
"Let go of my mom!"
Homelander looked at him, his voice terrifyingly steady.
"Dad is teaching her not to lie."
Becca was sweating from the pain, her other hand still shielding Ryan.
"Let go, he'll see."
Homelander leaned close to her and whispered.
"Then let him see who the father of this house really is."
Ryan raised his hand, a red glow flashing briefly in his eyes before being suppressed by fear.
Becca saw the red glow, and her face turned even paler than before.
"No, baby, don't."
Homelander saw it too; his breathing hitched, and a smile returned to his face.
"Yes, that's it."
He loosened his grip on Becca slightly and turned to Ryan.
"See? We're the same."
Becca endured the pain and blocked him again.
"He is not like you."
Homelander's hand tightened again.
"You're going to say that again?"
Becca was in too much pain to stand steady, but she still stood in front of Ryan.
"As long as I'm alive, you won't take him."
Homelander looked at her, and the last shred of gentleness was wiped clean from his face.
"Then your being alive isn't that important."
He raised his other hand, reaching for Becca's neck.
Just then, a loud crash came from outside the entryway.
The entire door was kicked open from the outside.
Chapter 85: You Don't Deserve to Be a Father
As the door fragments flew past Homelander's wrist, the skylight above the living room also shattered.
Ray smashed down through the broken glass, crushed the coffee table with the soles of his shoes, and grabbed Homelander by the shoulders, shoving him three meters away from Becca.
Homelander knocked over the sofa, his heels plowing two cracks into the floor, while the baseball glove in his hand was covered in wood shavings.
Becca hugged Ryan and retreated, her arms still trembling, but she shouted first.
"Don't go near him, Ryan, hide behind me."
Ryan was pressed into her arms, but his eyes looked over Becca's shoulder at Ray, who stood in the center of the living room.
"Mom, is he the person who was outside the door just now?"
Ray brushed the glass shards off his shoulder without turning back, merely waving a hand at Ryan.
"Yes, still that passerby who doesn't sell insurance, today with a complimentary demolition service."
Homelander slowly stood up straight, his gaze shifting from Ray to Ryan's face, then back to Ray.
"You dare touch my son?"
Ray glanced at the deformed door lock on the floor, then at the fingerprints on Becca's arm.
"Your greeting for your son is quite unique: first smash the door, then choke the mother. Vought's parenting class didn't go to waste."
Homelander took a step forward, his boots crushing the glass.
"He is my flesh and blood."
Ray raised his hand to block his path, his voice low.
"He is not your son."
Homelander's smile froze on his face, the veins on his neck bulging.
"Say that again."
Ray looked at him and finished, word by word.
"You are just a sperm donor."
The living room went quiet for a beat.
Ryan hugged Becca's waist, his voice tight.
"Mom, what is a sperm donor?"
Becca pressed his head back into her arms, her tone rushed and flustered.
"That's not a word you should be learning right now, baby."
Ray couldn't help but add.
"Right, not suitable for children. It's not too late to call him names when you're eighteen."
Homelander's expression darkened, red light suppressed in his eyes, his voice squeezed out from between his teeth.
"I'll give you one chance: leave here."
Ray spread his hands, blocking in front of Becca and Ryan.
"That sounds very familiar. Vought security said the same thing, and later they changed the access control system."
Homelander raised his fist, his voice even lower.
"Do you think I wouldn't kill you in front of the child?"
Ray moved half a step to the side, shielding Becca and her son even more thoroughly.
"I guess you don't dare to use Heat Vision randomly, so you have to get close."
The red light in Homelander's eyes stopped.
Ray continued to twist the knife.
"Look, even A-Zu has moments where he doesn't dare. How rare, worth Ashley writing an eight-hundred-word press release."
Homelander didn't speak again; his fist smashed straight toward Ray's chest.
Ray didn't dodge, meeting it with his right hand, his five fingers locking onto Homelander's fist.
Their strength collided, the floor cracked beneath their feet, the TV cabinet was overturned, and the photo frames on the wall fell and shattered into pieces.
Becca crouched down, holding Ryan, her shoulders blocking the flying wood splinters.
Ryan shouted.
"Mom!"
Ray pressed his left hand backward, and a Bio-field spread out in front of Becca and Ryan; the debris hit it and fell to the ground.
He even took a moment to look back.
"Don't be afraid, the quality of this house was poor to begin with; Vought's renovation team should have their pay docked."
Homelander grabbed at Ray's neck with his other hand, but Ray raised his elbow and smashed it away.
The two were locked in the center of the living room, their fists and elbows causing the ceiling beams to tremble, and the chandelier swayed twice before crashing to the ground.
Homelander gritted his teeth, his face pressed very close.
"What right do you have to interfere in my family affairs?"
Ray kneed him in the abdomen, pushing him back against the wall.
"Family affairs? You almost choked the child's mother to death just now."
Homelander grabbed Ray's arm with a backhand, trying to throw him aside with force.
Ray didn't retreat, pressing his other hand onto his shoulder and forcing him back into place.
The wall couldn't withstand their combined strength, and cracks crawled from the socket all the way to the window frame.
Homelander looked at Ryan, his tone changing quickly.
"Ryan, look closely, he is preventing us from reuniting."
Ryan hid behind Becca, his voice not loud, but every word could be heard.
"You hurt my mom."
Homelander's movements paused for a moment.
Ray seized this gap, his fist striking his chest and blasting him straight into the load-bearing wall.
Half of the entire wall collapsed, the night wind poured into the living room, and the lawn lights outside were covered by dust.
Becca was pushed back by the shockwave, but the Bio-field Ray maintained steadied her and Ryan.
Homelander looked up from the bricks, his cape snagged on steel bars, and the smile on his face could no longer be maintained.
"You hit me in front of him?"
Ray shook his wrist, his tone terrifyingly flat.
"You hit his mom in front of him."
Homelander lowered his head to look at the dent in his chest, then looked at Ray.
"Do you really think that because you beat me once, you can teach me how to be a father?"
Ray took a step forward, his soles crushing the broken bricks.
"You haven't even figured out how to be a human being."
Homelander rushed out from the ruined wall, his speed causing all the furniture in the living room to be overturned.
Ray didn't move half a step away from Becca and her son, taking the impact head-on with his shoulder, locking his arms around Homelander's waist, and pulling him aside.
The two crashed through the dining room partition; the refrigerator was crushed into a metal pancake, a water pipe burst, and water flowed along the floor into the living room.
Becca helped Ryan stand up, wanting to retreat toward the stairs.
Homelander saw her move and raised his hand, intending to go past Ray.
"Becca, give me the child."
Ray grabbed his wrist, pressing his knuckles so hard that Homelander's arm made a cracking sound.
"Did Vought pump water into your ears too? She already said no."
Homelander leaned close to Ray, the red light in his eyes brightening again.
"I can burn through you."
Ray glanced at Becca and Ryan, then forced Homelander's face back to look at him.
"You can try it and see if your Heat Vision hits me first, or sweeps across your son."
Homelander's breathing stopped, and the red light was suppressed.
Ray smiled.
"That's right. Being a dad for the first time, first learn not to treat your child as background scenery."
Homelander punched at the side of Ray's face, which Ray avoided by tilting his head, and the wind from the punch punched a hole in the dilapidated wall.
Ray backhanded him in the chest, slapping him back to the entryway.
Homelander stumbled, his boots catching on the door frame, preventing him from being knocked straight out of the house.
Ryan poked his head out from Becca's arms and asked timidly.
"Mom, will he kill us?"
Becca hugged him tight, her voice very low.
"No, don't look."
Ray heard this and turned his head to look at Homelander.
"Did you hear that? Your son is asking if you'll kill people the first time he sees you."
Homelander stared at Ryan, the shred of fatherly appearance on his face torn to pieces.
"You taught him everything, Becca; it's you who made him fear me."
Becca stood behind the Bio-field, her hand still protecting the back of Ryan's head.
"When you first walked in, he was still willing to listen to you."
Homelander looked at her, his tone very low.
"Shut up."
Ray stepped forward half a step, blocking his view.
"Don't yell at her, A-Zu. In your current state, even a paternity test would be embarrassed."
Homelander finally couldn't hold back, smashing both fists toward Ray at the same time.
Ray caught them head-on, his arm muscles tensed, the floor beneath his feet sank, and the side wall of the entire house collapsed along with it.
Becca screamed and hugged Ryan, and the Bio-field Ray maintained caught the falling wooden beams in mid-air.
Ryan looked at the suspended wooden blocks, his lips moving.
"He really blocked it."
Ray didn't turn back, pressing his hands against Homelander's fists, pushing him back toward the door bit by bit.
Homelander was forced to retreat, his teeth grinding audibly.
"He is my son."
Ray raised his knee to knock him off balance, his palm locking onto his shoulder, pressing him against the broken door frame.
"Is that all you can say?"
Homelander struggled to raise his head.
Ray leaned close to him, his voice carrying into every corner of the living room.
"Are you worthy of being a father?"
Chapter 86: A-Zu Forced to Retreat
Homelander's back was pressed against the shattered doorframe, and after hearing the words "Do you deserve to be a father?", he did not reply immediately.
He first glanced at Ryan, then at the fingerprint marks on Becca's arm, and finally fixed his gaze back on Rayen's face.
"Are you teaching me?" Homelander squeezed these words through his teeth, pressing his palm against the doorframe, crushing the wood chips into powder.
"I'm not that bored."
Rayen gripped his shoulder, pressing down another half-inch with his hand, "I'm just telling you, don't dress up a crime scene as a family reunion."
Ryan hid behind Becca, still holding that soccer ball, his fingertips pressing a dent into the leather.
Becca pulled the child back, her voice very low: "Don't look at him, baby, look at me."
Hearing this, the smile on Homelander's face was forcibly wiped away.
"See, you're still teaching him to fear me."
Rayen shook his arm, throwing him from the doorframe onto the lawn outside.
Homelander's heels skidded across the steps, but he managed to stop, his cape torn by the broken glass.
"Becca is teaching him to avoid danger; that's called normal parenting."
Rayen walked to the entrance, blocking the entire doorway, "You teaching him to watch how his father chokes his mother is called a Vought-style domestic violence open lecture."
Homelander looked up, red light pressing out from his eye sockets.
Becca pulled Ryan toward the corner of the living room, and Rayen swept his left hand backward, a force field blocking the shattered wall and falling beams outside.
"You dare hide in front of them?" Homelander stared at the mother and son behind Rayen, his voice terrifyingly low.
"I call this good positioning."
Rayen lifted his chin, "If you want to punch through me, and then accidentally traumatize your son, you're welcome to try."
Homelander looked at Ryan.
Ryan retreated half a step under his gaze, but still grabbed the corner of Becca's shirt and said, "Don't hurt Mom."
This sentence was harder to handle than Rayen's fist.
The red light in Homelander's eyes flickered, the heat causing the wallpaper near the door to curl.
"Ryan, he's using you."
Homelander changed his tone, trying to make himself sound less terrifying, "He wants you to think I'm bad."
Ryan whispered back, "Then why won't you let go of Mom, and why did you smash the door in?"
Homelander's answer got stuck.
Rayen clicked his tongue, "An eight-year-old can do reading comprehension; A-Zu, you failed your homework tonight."
Homelander finally charged forward.
This time he didn't go around the doorway; his fist went straight for Rayen's chest, the speed so fast that Beccaonly saw a red and blue shadow closing in.
Rayen did not retreat.
He thrust his shoulder forward, grabbed Homelander's wrist with his right hand, and slammed his left elbow into Homelander's chest, cutting off the force right outside the door.
The lawn beneath them cracked, and the floor tiles buckled one by one.
Homelander tried to shove Rayen back into the house, but Rayen grabbed his cape with a backhand, kneed him in the abdomen, and pressed him directly out of the yard.
"Stay away from the house."
Rayen said in a low voice, "There are children inside; if you want to go crazy, find a place without an audience."
"He is my child!"
As Homelander roared this, his fist was already smashing toward the side of Rayen's face.
Rayen tilted his head to avoid it, clamped his five fingers onto his face, and pressed him into the ground.
The soil exploded, Homelander's head slammed into the lawn, and the glass of the nearby security booth shattered.
Rayen looked down at him, "Blood relation doesn't equal a free pass, especially for a father like you who relies on demolition to open doors."
Homelander kicked Rayen away, flipped up from the ground, and the red light in his eyes could no longer be suppressed.
Heat Vision was aimed at Rayen.
But behind Rayen was the broken entrance, and further inside were Becca and Ryan.
Becca hugged Ryan, pressing the child's face into her chest.
Yet Ryan looked up from the crook of her arm, staring into Homelander's eyes, his voice tight, "Are you going to burn our house?"
Homelander's Heat Vision stopped at the edge of his eye sockets.
He stared at Ryan, his breathing growing heavier with each breath.
Rayen did not take the opportunity to mock him; he just took a step forward, completely sealing the doorway.
"Go ahead, fire."
Homelander looked up at him.
Rayen's voice was flat, "If you dare fire, I'll let you know whether your so-called father status can block my fist."
A low growl was pressed from Homelander's throat.
"You think I'm afraid of you?"
"There are many things you are afraid of."
Rayen looked at him, "You're afraid the child will see you lose control, you're afraid Becca will treat you like a monster, and you're afraid that you'll be disqualified by an eight-year-old the first time you're a father."
Homelander pressed forward a step.
Rayen also moved forward, the distance closing to just one arm's length.
"You're also afraid I'll actually go hard on you."
Rayen raised his hand and tapped Homelander's chest, "Last time you could find excuses for yourself; this time Ryan is right here, and he will see with his own eyes you being knocked away."
Homelander slapped his hand away.
"Shut up."
"Fine."
Rayen nodded, "Then let me talk about business."
He looked back at Becca.
Becca understood immediately, grabbing Ryan and retreating toward the stairs, saying to the child, "No matter what you hear later, just follow me."
Ryan was still looking at the doorway.
"Mom, will he beat that man to death?"
Rayen didn't look back, only adding, "Not for now, children's shows can't be too bloody; they won't pass censorship."
Becca was choked by these words and pulled Ryan back faster.
Seeing them retreat, Homelander wanted to pass by Rayen again.
Rayen pressed his hand, and a transparent force field appeared across the entrance, cutting off Homelander's path.
Homelander punched it, but the force field didn't budge, and the recoil made his wrist sink backward.
For the first time, he didn't continue to attack, his gaze fixed on that invisible wall.
"When did you get this kind of thing?"
"When you were busy burning pillows in the middle of the night."
Rayen said, "People need to learn, A-Zu, don't always stay in the giant baby version."
Homelander's expression became even uglier.
He charged again, but this time Rayen didn't catch his fist; he sidestepped, his speed suddenly spiking, circled behind Homelander, pressed a palm against his spine, and pushed him away from the house door.
Homelander tried to turn around, but Rayen's second punch already landed on his ribs.
The dull thud of the impact drowned out the security booth's alarm; Homelander was sent flying sideways, crashing through two streetlights outside the yard before stopping.
He stood up from under the broken lights, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, but his first reaction was to look at the white cottage.
Rayen had already returned to the doorway, standing in front of the broken door, with Becca and Ryan behind him.
This positioning made Homelander stop.
He could charge, he could fight, he could burn through many things.
But if he slipped up, Ryan would see, and could also get dragged into it.
Rayen understood his hesitation.
"Finally learned to hit the brakes; not easy, I'll give you a Vought Good Father Progress Award."
Homelander's hands were shaking at his sides.
"What right do you have to stand there?"
Rayen didn't smile.
"By the fact that Becca asked me to protect him, by the fact that Ryan just told you not to hurt Mom, and by the fact that since you walked in, you haven't acted like a father once."
Homelander looked at Ryan.
Ryan held Becca's hand and whispered, "You should go."
Homelander's expression flickered.
"Ryan, I am your father."
Ryan didn't let go of Becca's hand, but he finished his sentence.
"But you made Mom hurt."
Homelander opened his mouth but couldn't reply.
He turned his anger back onto Rayen, Heat Vision burning at the edges of his eyes again.
Rayen walked out the door and stood at the top of the steps.
"Listen, A-Zu, you can hate me, you can come to find me to fight, I welcome it anytime."
Homelander stared at him.
Rayen's voice was even steadier, "But if you touch this child and his mother again, next time I won't hold back."
Becca held Ryan behind the force field, not interrupting.
The muscles on Homelander's face tightened, as if he had heard the most unacceptable verdict.
Rayen continued, "You should know what not holding back means for me."
After these words fell, Homelander didn't move forward again.
He glanced at Ryan, then at Becca, and finally fixed his gaze back on Rayen.
"You can't protect them forever."
"Then you can try to verify that with your whole life."
Rayen answered quickly, "But I suggest you go make an appointment with a dentist; you might need it next time."
Homelander gritted his teeth, his chest heaving heavily.
In the distance, the lights of the Vought evacuation vehicles had turned on, and none of the security guards dared to approach this lawn.
Becca asked in a low voice behind Rayen, "Will he leave?"
Rayen didn't look back, "Yes, because he has lost enough tonight; if he stays, he will only lose in front of his son."
Homelander heard this.
He took half a step forward, then forced himself to stop.
Ryan suddenly spoke, "Mom, can we leave here?"
Becca hugged him tighter, not answering, only looking at Rayen's back.
Rayen turned his head, his voice only loud enough for those inside to hear, "Pack the bare minimum; once he flies away, I'll call Billy."
Becca's hand paused.
Homelander also heard that name, his eyes becoming dangerous again.
Rayen looked up at him, "You can't even keep your own son now, so stop coveting other people's wives."
Homelander's teeth ground together.
He took one last look at Ryan, his cape whipped up by the night wind, and he shot into the sky, disappearing into the clouds with uncontrollable fury.
Chapter 87: Butcher Meets Wife and Son
Ryan did not chase into the clouds.
He stood at the broken doorway, listening to the wind in the distance die down, before turning his head to say to Becca.
"Pack your things now. Only take documents, medicine, and the child's most essential items. Don't take any souvenirs; Vought loves to track people through souvenirs."
Becca pulled Ryan to stand behind the force field, the fingerprints on her arm still visible.
She glanced at the collapsed wall, then looked back at Ryan.
"You said earlier, his name is Billy?"
Ryan took out an encrypted mobile phone, his finger pressing on the dial button.
"Yes, but I'm going to tell him one thing first. When he comes in, he can cry, he can curse, but he cannot draw his gun. Otherwise, I'll stuff him in the trunk to cool off."
The call connected quickly.
There was no small talk from Butcher's side; his raspy voice came through immediately.
"You found her?"
Ryan looked at Becca.
"Found her. She's alive, and the child is alive too. Homelander was just here, but I've already driven him away."
The sound of a chair falling over came from the other end of the line.
Hughie shouted, "Butcher, don't go driving into a wall!"
But Butcher only asked one word.
"Address."
Ryan recited a set of temporary coordinates and added one more thing.
"Bring Mothers Milk and Frenchie, and no Vought tracking devices. Put your guns away when you arrive."
Butcher's voice was heavy.
"Are you fucking teaching me how to see my wife?"
Ryan replied even faster.
"I'm teaching you how not to turn a reunion into a crime scene. My rates are reasonable, and I don't cheat."
Hearing the word "wife," Becca's fingers gripped Ryan's shoulder.
Ryan looked up at her.
"Mom, is Billy the person you said couldn't come earlier?"
Becca squatted down and straightened his collar for him.
"He won't hurt you, baby. But you have to promise me first: stay by my side later and don't run around."
Ryan nodded while hugging his soccer ball, then looked outside the door.
"Will that person in the cape come back?"
Ryan put away his phone.
"He'll want to, but he has to go back and fix his pride tonight. A-Zu's face is more fragile than Vought's stock price."
...
Half an hour later, an unmarked van pulled up outside the community.
Butcher got out of the driver's seat, his steps hurried.
He had no gun in his hand, only that old trench coat, which was crumpled from his grip.
Mothers Milk stood guard by the car.
Frenchie went around to dismantle the remaining surveillance cameras in the community.
Hughie poked his head out to look, but was pushed back into the car by Mothers Milk.
"Don't go down there and cause trouble; you'll be soft-spoken in this situation and won't be able to handle it."
When Butcher walked to the door of the ruined house, his footsteps stopped.
Becca stood by the crumbling wall of the living room, with Ryan shielded behind her.
Two small bags sat beside the mother and son.
Butcher opened his mouth.
The mouth that could usually curse someone's ancestors back eighteen generations was stuck, leaving only one name.
"Becca."
Becca looked at him, her jaw tensed for a long time, before she replied.
"Billy."
Butcher took a step forward, then stopped again.
"They said you were dead."
Becca's hand gripped the strap of her bag.
"They also said you wouldn't come looking for me."
Butcher gave a smile, a very ugly smile.
"Those Vought bastards don't even draft their lies."
Becca finally walked over.
Butcher reached out and hugged her, his movements heavy, but he eased up when he touched her arm.
He saw the ring of fingerprints and lowered his voice.
"Did he do this?"
Becca didn't let him look for too long.
"Don't ask about this right now."
Butcher nodded, agreeing verbally, but his gaze drifted past her and saw Ryan standing behind her.
Ryan was also looking at him.
Blonde hair, blue eyes, holding a soccer ball, his face still carrying the lingering fear from earlier.
Butcher froze in place.
His hand slowly lowered from behind Becca's back, his breathing becoming heavier with each breath.
Becca sensed his change and moved half a step to the side, blocking Ryan.
"Billy, his name is Ryan."
Butcher stared at the child.
No cursing, no movement.
But that tension had already pressed from his shoulders down to his hands.
Ryan asked in a low voice.
"Mom, does he not like me?"
Becca squatted down and hugged him.
"No, baby. He's just seen too much today."
Butcher heard this, and the muscles in his face twitched.
He stepped back half a step, turned, and walked outside.
Ryan reached out to stop him.
"Where are you going?"
Butcher's voice was suppressed with anger.
"Smoke a cigarette."
Ryan glanced at his empty hands.
"You don't have any cigarettes."
Butcher looked up at him.
"Then I'll go out and curse at some trees, that's alright, right?"
Ryan grabbed his shoulder and led him to the broken streetlamp outside the yard.
"You can curse at trees, but don't chop the child like a tree."
Butcher shook off his hand.
"Do you think I would lay a hand on a child?"
Ryan looked at him.
"I'm afraid that when you see that face, you'll drive yourself crazy first."
Butcher lowered his head and laughed, his laughter full of grit.
"That face, I dream of smashing it."
Ryan didn't back down.
"The child is innocent. Your hatred for Homelander cannot be counted against him."
Butcher looked up, his eyes bloodshot.
"That's easy for you to say. That child is the reason Beccawas locked up for eight years, and he's also the thing that golden-haired bastard left behind."
Ryan lowered his voice.
"He is also the child Becca protected for eight years."
Butcher didn't respond.
Ryan continued.
"If you had looked one second longer, you would have seen that he is afraid of you, and afraid of Homelander too. He didn't choose his own birth."
Butcher gritted his teeth.
"I know."
Ryan stared at him.
"You'd better really know; don't try to fob me off with those three words."
Butcher was silent for a long time before spitting out the words.
"I know."
Inside the house, Becca helped Ryan walk out.
She heard that last sentence and paused for a moment.
Butcher turned back to look at her, his voice much lower.
"I won't touch him."
Becca didn't believe him immediately.
"Billy, look at me and say it."
Butcher looked at her, speaking very slowly.
"I won't touch Ryan, and I won't use him to get revenge on Homelander."
Ryan added from the side.
"Very good, the echo test passed. The old British bastard has finally evolved into a human-in-training."
Butcher glared at him.
"If you run your mouth again, I'll pull your teeth out sooner or later."
Ryan spread his hands.
"Get in line; A-Zu thinks the same. He's currently failed to make an appointment."
After the car door opened, Mothers Milk took Becca's bag.
Frenchie tossed the surveillance hard drive into his toolbox.
"The community's external lines have been cut for ten minutes; any longer and Vought will send a second team."
Hughie poked his head out of the car.
"The Safe House is in the suburbs; Robin has already cleared out the spare room. She also asked if the kid can eat peanut butter."
Ryan finally had his attention diverted slightly by this question.
"Yes, but I don't like the nutritional paste the Vought Instructor gives out; it tastes weird."
Ryan nodded.
"Don't worry, we only abuse adults here, not children's taste buds."
Becca helped Ryan into the car.
Butcher stood by the car door, wanting to reach out but pulling his hand back.
Ryan saw his movement and hugged the soccer ball tighter to his chest.
"Are you the Billy Mom used to talk about?"
Butcher's throat moved.
"Yes, I'm that bastard."
Ryan looked at him seriously.
"Mom said you have a bad temper."
Butcher looked at Becca.
Becca turned her face away.
"I was being very objective."
Ryan leaned against the car door.
"Kid, she's already sugar-coated it. The original version isn't suitable for an eight-year-old to hear."
Ryan pursed his lips and didn't smile.
He looked down at the soccer ball, and after a while, he said.
"The person from earlier also said he was my father."
The car went quiet instantly.
Becca reached out to hug him.
But Ryan shrank back a little.
His voice began to tremble, but he still finished the question.
"Mom, is he?"
Chapter 88: Tears Ask Dad
Mom, is he?"
Ryan hugged the soccer ball tighter, his eyes fixed on Becca, like he was waiting for an answer a teacher was finally willing to reveal.
Becca's outstretched hand stopped halfway; she wanted to pull the child into her arms, but Ryan shrank back a little.
"Sweetheart, let's get in the car first, and we'll talk once we reach the Safe House."
"You're saying 'wait a moment' again." Ryan's voice could no longer be suppressed. "The Vought Instructor says the same thing, and that person wearing a cape says the same thing too."
Butcher stood by the car door, his expression looking frighteningly grim, yet he didn't take a step forward.
He glanced at Becca, then looked at Ryan, forcing the words out through his teeth.
"Kid, your mom isn't lying to you; she just wants to keep you safe."
Ryan looked at him, his hands holding the soccer ball slowly loosening.
"But he said he is my dad."
After these words fell, no one in the car replied, and even Hughie shut his mouth.
Rayne leaned against the car door and glanced at Butcher.
"Old Butcher, don't make that face like you're going to eat someone; your current expression could scare three elementary school students to tears."
Butcher glared at him: "Shut up; I'm already restraining myself."
"I can tell." Rayne nodded. "You're only scaring one now; that's clear progress."
Ryan didn't laugh; he looked down at the soccer ball, his voice muffled in his chest.
"Is he my dad?"
Becca squatted down, wanting to touch his face, but fearing he would pull away again, she could only pull her hand back to her knees.
"Ryan, some adult matters are very messy, and I never knew how to tell you."
"So it's true?"
Becca's lips moved, but she didn't utter a complete word.
Ryan suddenly placed the soccer ball on the seat, and tears splattered onto its surface.
"Why did you never tell me? Why did he say I'm just like him? Will I hurt you too?"
"No." Becca answered quickly this time. "You won't."
"But my eyes felt hot just now." Ryan raised his hand to wipe his face, making it messier. "I wanted to make him let you go, I was so angry, and I was afraid I would burn you."
Butcher's hand pressed against the car door, leaving a small dent in the metal.
Mothers Milk glanced at him and reminded him in a low voice: "Billy."
Butcher pulled his hand back, turned around to curse, and after finishing, forced his face back around.
"Kid, being angry doesn't mean you'll become him."
Ryan looked at him: "But you're afraid of me too."
Butcher was stumped by this, and it took a long time before he squeezed out a sentence.
"I'm afraid of a lot of things, especially being stupid."
Rayne raised an eyebrow: "That's a rare moment of sincerity; I suggest carving that into the Boys' team motto."
Becca ignored them and pulled Ryan in front of her.
"You are not a monster, sweetheart; you are my son."
Ryan shook his head, tears still falling.
"But that man said I am his son."
"He can't give you the answer." Rayne finally walked over and squatted in front of Ryan, his line of sight level with the child's.
Ryan looked up at him, his face full of questions he wanted to ask but didn't dare to.
Rayne reached out his hand and stopped in mid-air.
"Can I touch your shoulder? No charge, and I'm not selling insurance."
Ryan sniffled and nodded.
Rayne placed his hand on his shoulder without applying pressure.
"Some of what he said is true; your father is indeed very powerful."
Becca closed her eyes, Butcher turned his face away, and it went quiet by the car again.
Ryan looked at Rayne: "So will I become him?"
"No."
Rayne answered very steadily this time.
"Power won't decide for you whether you should hurt people, and bloodline won't decide for you who you should love."
Ryan listened very intently, tears still hanging on his face.
"But he can also fly, and he also has red eyes."
"So what?" Rayne pointed to himself. "I can fly too, and I can tear down Vought's walls. Does that mean the first thing I do when I wake up every morning is look for a door to wreck?"
Hughie whispered from the car: "That example isn't very convincing, actually; you really do tear them down often."
Rayne turned his head back: "If you undermine me again, I'll pack you and Butcher up and sell you to Vought's customer service department."
Ryan finally sniffled, almost letting out a sound, but immediately pressed his lips together.
Rayne turned back, his tone lowering.
"Ryan, you need to remember one thing."
Ryan nodded.
"Your father is very powerful and very dangerous. He has a lot of power, but he hasn't learned how to treat others well."
Becca's hand pressed against Ryan's back, her fingertips pausing for a moment.
Rayne continued: "You are related to him; that can't be changed, but you are not him."
Ryan asked in a low voice: "Then who am I?"
"You are Ryan." Rayne said. "You worry about your mom, you get upset when you can't play soccer, you think nutritional paste tastes bad, and you wonder if you'll hurt others."
Ryan raised his hand to wipe his face: "Do these count too?"
"They do, and they are very valuable." Rayne nodded seriously. "Much more valuable than the hero stickers Vought gave you; that stuff is poor quality anyway."
Ryan said in a low voice: "I really didn't tear it; it fell off by itself."
Becca couldn't hold back this time and reached out to pull him into her arms.
"Okay, it fell off by itself."
Butcher stood to the side, opening his mouth several times, but finally only said one thing.
"Kid, your mom has protected you for eight years; she knows who you are better than any of us."
Ryan looked up from Becca's arms and looked at Butcher.
"Then will you hate me?"
The muscles on Butcher's face twitched; he squatted down, still a distance away from Ryan.
"I will hate that bastard in the cape; that's something that won't change anytime soon."
Becca looked at him, her eyes carrying a warning.
Butcher raised his hand in surrender: "But I won't hate you. I promised your mom, and I promised that loud-mouthed bastard Rayne."
Rayne clicked his tongue: "Including personal attacks in a touching speech; British etiquette really has layers."
Ryan looked at them, his voice still small.
"What if I have powers in the future too?"
The hand Rayne had on Ryan's shoulder paused.
Just as Ryan asked this, the dormant heat inside him flared up again, very briefly, but clearer than before.
Rayne didn't show it, only pulling his hand back.
"Then you must remember today even more."
Ryan asked: "Remember him smashing the door?"
"Remember that too." Rayne said. "But remember even more that your first reaction just now wasn't wanting to beat him, but wanting to protect your mom."
Becca's hand holding Ryan tightened, and Butcher turned his head to curse something no one heard clearly.
Rayne looked at Ryan, his voice not loud, but everyone by the car heard it clearly.
"Choosing to be kind is much more important than having power."
Ryan looked at him, his tears still not stopped.
Rayne raised his hand and pointed to his own face.
"If you can really fly in the future, first learn to land without smashing the neighbor's car. Second, don't learn from A-Zuand go around claiming relatives. Third, remember what I just said."
Ryan sniffled: "What if I forget?"
"Then your mom will remind you." After Rayne finished speaking, he pointed to Butcher. "This uncle with a terrible temper will also remind you, though his methods might not be very civilized."
Butcher snorted: "I can be civilized."
Hughie whispered from the car: "That statement doesn't have high credibility."
Frenchie poked his head out to add: "Very low."
Ryan finally had his mouth corners tugged up by them, though tears were still hanging on his chin.
Becca wiped his face for him, her voice very low.
"Sweetheart, I'm sorry; I should have told you sooner."
Ryan grabbed her sleeve.
"In the future, don't hide me away and not say anything anymore, okay?"
Becca looked at him and nodded.
"Okay, I will tell you in the future, as long as I know how to say it."
Ryan looked at Rayne again.
"Then can I not call him Dad?"
Rayne didn't answer for Becca, only glancing at Butcher.
Butcher turned his face away, his voice very hard.
"Call him whatever you want; no one can force you."
Rayne then spoke up.
"Hear that? What you call someone isn't an exam question; you won't lose points for answering wrong."
Ryan hugged the soccer ball back into his arms.
"Then I won't call him that for now."
Becca kissed his forehead.
"Okay."
The perimeter alarm of the community in the distance sounded again, and Frenchie looked at Rayne.
"We need to go; Vought's second team will be here in five minutes at most."
Rayne stood up, and just as he was about to close the car door, he looked down at Ryan again.
Ryan was also looking at him, tears still in his eyes, but he didn't hide anymore.
Rayne kept his voice very steady.
"Remember, Ryan, you might be very strong one day, but you already did one thing right today."
Ryan asked: "What thing?"
"You weren't so scared by him that you forgot to protect your mom."
Ryan looked down at the soccer ball, and after a few seconds, raised his hand to wipe his tears.
He looked at Rayne and nodded.
Chapter 89: The Eight-Year-Old Nuke Wakes Up
Ryan looked down at the soccer ball, and after a few seconds, he raised his hand to wipe away his tears.
He looked at Rayne and nodded.
Just as Rayne was about to close the car door, a notification suddenly popped up at the edge of his vision.
"High-level Superhuman bloodline fluctuation detected."
"New feature unlocked: Bloodline Resonance Detection."
"Perform covert detection on nearby targets?"
Rayne's hand paused as he closed the car door, and Butcher immediately looked over. "What's wrong with you now? Don't tell me Vought's people have already chased us to the tail of the car."
Rayne pushed the door back, his tone unchanged. "It's nothing, I just suddenly remembered something."
Butcher frowned. "You'd better not be thinking about the landlord's security deposit at a time like this."
"The deposit has already fallen in battle; no need to mourn it." Rayne looked at Ryan and tilted his chin. "Kid, when your eyes were heating up just now, besides fear, did you feel anything else?"
Ryan hugged the ball and thought for a moment. "I wanted him to stay away from Mom, and then the sounds in the room became very loud."
Becca immediately pressed down on Ryan's shoulder. "Does it hurt anywhere? Head, eyes, or chest?"
Ryan shook his head. "It doesn't hurt, it's just that I can hear a lot of sounds—the security guard uncle is cursing, and someone in the car has a growling stomach."
Hughie poked his head out from the car. "It's not me; I'm so nervous tonight that my stomach has stopped working."
Mothers Milk sat in the driver's seat and looked back. "It is you; I heard it too just now."
Frenchie closed the toolbox. "Little one, congratulations, you've discovered Mr. Hughie's most useless secret."
Ryan was stunned by what they said, and finally let out a small laugh.
Rayne chuckled along, tapped his finger on the edge of the car door, and quietly confirmed the detection.
"Bloodline Resonance Detection initiated."
"Target: Ryan."
"Bloodline Origin: High-stability Compound V genetic chain."
"Current Dominant Purity: 12%."
"Potential Bloodline Purity: 96% to unknown upper limit."
"Theoretical Growth Limit: Surpasses Homelander."
Rayne's hand, which was tapping the car door, froze.
Butcher immediately caught the pause. "What did you see?"
Rayne looked at Ryan and didn't answer immediately.
Ryan also looked up at him and asked in a low voice, "Is there something wrong with me?"
Becca pulled the child toward her. "Rayne, don't scare him."
Rayne withdrew his gaze and crouched down in front of Ryan. "There is something, but it's not a bad thing."
Ryan grabbed the soccer ball. "Then what is it?"
"It means you might need to use a steel spoon to eat peanut butter in the future, otherwise regular spoons might easily get bent by you," Rayne said solemnly. "Of course, this falls under the category of household utensil budget issues, not monster issues."
Ryan blinked. "Will I really bend spoons?"
Butcher interjected coldly from the side. "If he dares to joke with you like that, it usually means things are more troublesome than spoons."
Rayne glanced at him. "Old Butcher, when that mouth of yours isn't talking, the safety index increases by thirty percent."
Butcher didn't curse back; he stared at Ryan, his fingers resting on the car door. "Get to the point."
Becca also looked at Rayne. "Will he lose control?"
Rayne didn't mention the system panel, instead switching to words they could understand. "He hasn't lost control; the power inside him hasn't truly awakened yet. He was just stimulated by Homelander earlier."
Becca's face turned even paler. "Stimulated?"
Rayne nodded. "Fear, anger, protecting you—these emotions could all push the door open a little bit."
Butcher cursed. "That blond bastard leaves a bomb behind even when he leaves."
Ryan's hands holding the ball tightened.
Becca immediately looked at Butcher. "Billy."
Butcher shut his mouth, then forced himself to change his tone. "I was cursing him, not the kid."
Ryan said quietly, "But I can tell."
Butcher was blocked, and after a few seconds, he spoke up. "Then I'll curse somewhere else in the future."
Rayne patted Ryan's shoulder. "Hear that? This is the peak of tenderness this British bastard can offer, so don't set your expectations too high."
Ryan pursed his lips. "So, if I get angry in the future, does that mean I can't speak?"
"Who taught you that?" Rayne asked back. "Emotions aren't the enemy; losing control is the enemy."
Becca looked at him. "Can you teach him?"
Butcher immediately frowned. "You want him to teach? He doesn't even use the front door when he tears down doors."
Rayne spread his hands. "At least before I tear down a door, I confirm if there are children inside. I do have professional standards."
Becca wasn't amused; she just stared at Rayne. "I'm asking seriously."
Rayne glanced at Ryan, then looked at Becca. "I can help him practice control and hold the situation down before he loses control, but the person who truly teaches him to grow up has to be you."
Ryan looked up. "And Billy?"
Butcher froze entirely. "Me?"
Ryan said in a low voice, "You just said you would remind me, even if the method wasn't very polite."
Hughie quietly added from inside the car, "This kid has a great memory; Billy, you're done for."
Butcher glared over. "Shut up, kid."
Ryan asked again, "Then will you remind me?"
Butcher looked at that face, paused for several seconds, and then squeezed words out through his teeth. "I will, but don't expect me to say it nicely."
Ryan nodded seriously. "Mom says the truth isn't always pleasant to hear."
Becca held onto the car door and said in a low voice, "Did I say that?"
Rayne replied quickly. "The fact that the kid remembers this shows that the family education is a hundred times better than Vought's."
The panel in his vision was still refreshing.
"Dormant state stable."
"Awakening trigger tendencies: strong emotional shock, threat to kin, outburst of protective instinct."
"Risk warning: If the target awakens in a fearful environment, behavior is unpredictable."
Rayne's eyes darkened a little.
Homelander wants a son, Vought wants a sample, Edgarwants a bargaining chip.
Butcher might also, at some moment of loss of control, push the child into the worst possible position.
Becca saw that Rayne didn't respond and asked in a low voice, "Just how much trouble is it?"
Rayne pushed the panel out of his vision. "A little worse than Vought's nutritional paste."
Ryan immediately wrinkled his face. "That's very troublesome."
"Right, so let's leave here first." Rayne stood up and closed half of the car door. "After we reach the Safe House, no one mentions training, no one mentions bloodlines, no one mentions Homelander, and definitely don't treat the child like an interrogation subject."
Butcher scoffed. "Are you pointing at me?"
Rayne looked at him. "I'm circling your name with a highlighter."
Mothers Milk started the van. "Everyone sit tight; Vought's second team has already entered the intersection outside the community."
Frenchie looked at the rearview mirror. "They brought three black cars and a medical vehicle; it seems headquarters really treats the little one as an experimental subject."
Becca hugged Ryan, her voice low. "They won't take you away again."
Ryan leaned against her and looked at Rayne. "If they come, will you still block them?"
Rayne pulled open the passenger door, sat in, and looked back. "Yes, but you also have to remember, whether you are strong or not has nothing to do with them. Don't let Vought give you a nickname; that company's taste is ridiculously bad."
Ryan thought for a moment. "Then can I pick one myself in the future?"
Butcher looked out the window. "As long as it's not Homelander II, you can call yourself Potato Man for all I care."
Ryan frowned seriously. "Potato Man doesn't sound good."
Rayne nodded. "Taste better than Butcher's; the talent is already half awakened."
There was finally some laughter in the car.
As the van drove out of the community, Rayne saw through the rearview mirror that the white cottage was illuminated by Vought's headlights.
He didn't look back, just took out his phone and opened the encrypted folder.
Vought waste lines, plane crash lines, silencing lines, V24 cold chain, The Pentagon mobilization records—all lined up on the screen.
Becca saw those file names, her voice very low. "What are you going to do next?"
Rayne turned off the screen and looked at the distant daylight outside the window.
"First, I'll get you to the Safe House."
Butcher caught that the second half of the sentence was left unsaid. "And then?"
Rayne looked back at Ryan; the child was leaning in Becca's arms, his hand still protecting that soccer ball.
He looked ahead again, his tone lower.
"Then, we have to re-evaluate the whole game."
"Because this child might be more capable of overturning Vought than Homelander himself."
Chapter 90: The Idol of A-Zu Should Be Shattered
"Because this child might be more capable of overturning Vought than Homelander himself."
After Rayne finished this sentence, the van went silent for several seconds. Butcher shifted his gaze away from Ryan and tapped his fingers twice on the door frame.
"You'd best not let the kid take that as a mission objective. My wife just got out of a cage; she doesn't need to raise a bomb right away."
Becca held Ryan and covered one of the child's ears directly: "Billy, don't use the word 'bomb.' He understands."
Ryan looked up from her arms and corrected her in a low voice: "Mom, I'm eight years old, not three, and he was talking about me just now."
Rayne glanced back at him, his tone softening: "Don't be nervous, kid. Your primary mission right now is to eat something normal, then take a nap. Vought's nutritional paste should be a criminal offense from a humanitarian perspective."
Hughie sat in the back row and raised his hand to interject: "I agree with that. The peanut butter Robin bought tastes pretty good, at least it doesn't make you question your existence."
Butcher gave a cold huff: "Can you guys stop discussing children's breakfast for a second? Homelander knows about this place, and so does Edgar. We're currently driving a beat-up car down the road."
Mothers Milk steadied the steering wheel and replied in a low voice: "I've taken three detours, and we're clear for now, but Vought's second team has already sealed off the community. They'll trace the direction we drove out."
Frenchie held his computer, the screen's reflection shining on his face: "It's not just Vought. Two channels at The Pentagon just mentioned the Temporary Response Force. Although they didn't name names, they're waiting for the go-ahead from Washington."
Becca pulled Ryan closer to her: "So, this Safe House you mentioned—how long will it actually be safe?"
Rayne looked out the car window, his tone no longer joking: "Enough time for us to map out a plan, enough for you all to change clothes, and enough for this kid to finish his peanut butter. Don't count on it being any longer than that."
Butcher stared at him: "Then stop the small talk. Once we get to the place, lay everything out."
Half an hour later, the van pulled into a Safe House that had been converted from an old warehouse in the suburbs. Robin placed spare blankets and hot water on the table without asking any more questions about what happened to Ryan.
Ryan stood at the door, clutching a soccer ball. Seeing no Vought logos in the room, he asked in a low voice: "Are there no instructors or cameras here?"
Frenchie held up a detector and waved it around: "I just scanned it. There's nothing but the coins Mr. Hughie hid in the sofa cushions. Very low-tech."
Hughie hurriedly explained: "Those are just ones I dropped last time, not surveillance equipment, really."
Rayne closed the door, tapped the wall a few times, and only after confirming there was nothing abnormal did he sit at the table: "Alright, meeting time. The topic is simple: it looks like we've escaped, but the people out there are about to flip the table."
Butcher pulled out a chair and sat down, immediately targeting Rayne: "Start with Vought. Don't try to fool me with your nonsense."
Rayne tapped the table: "Three members of The Seven are already out of commission. A-Train has broken legs, The Deep has a broken spine, and Translucent has shattered internal organs. Don't expect these three brand faces to be up on stage selling smiles anytime soon."
Hughie's face twitched as he listened: "You said that so smoothly, I feel like the Vought Public Relations Department would resign on the spot if they heard you."
Rayne looked at him: "They won't resign. Ashley will just work overtime and then write a garbage statement about how 'members are currently recuperating.'"
Mothers Milk pushed a stack of printed documents onto the table: "The stock price looks even worse. The video of the waste dumping is still fermenting, and after the compound v factory was burned, a large chunk of Vought's supply chain was cut off."
Frenchie then turned the computer around: "The V24 cold chain is still being sent to Washington, and the quantity is higher than we anticipated. This shows that Edgar no longer intends to rely solely on superheroes to hold the fort."
Butcher frowned: "Temporary super soldiers?"
Rayne nodded: "Yes. It takes effect in four to six minutes, and the side effects are deadly, but for Edgar, dead men can be written off as heroic sacrifices."
Becca, sitting nearby, covered Ryan's ears again upon hearing this: "Can you guys not talk about this in front of the child?"
Ryan protested in a muffled voice: "Mom, I heard it. 'Heroic sacrifice' is the word the Vought Instructor likes to use the most."
Butcher's expression darkened: "From now on, nobody will be teaching you that Vought nonsense."
Rayne glanced at Butcher: "That sentence actually sounded human. Keep it up, don't make me give you a gold star for polite language."
Butcher couldn't be bothered to curse at him and asked directly: "What about you? To what extent can you actually withstand things right now?"
Rayne leaned back in his chair and answered crisply: "Homelander can't penetrate me in his normal state, and Heat Vision is basically useless. My current standard strength is around five thousand tons, my speed can reach Mach twenty-five, and my force field can isolate an area for a short time."
The cup in Hughie's hand paused in mid-air: "You say that like you're reporting the weather."
Frenchie stared at him: "Five thousand tons, Mach twenty-five, my friend, are you sure you still need to hold a meeting? Can't you just fly to Vought and carry the building away?"
Rayne thought seriously for half a second: "Carrying the building isn't hard. The problem is there are Janitors inside, and that guy Thomas still owes me two bags of potato chips. Collateral damage isn't worth it."
Mothers Milk didn't smile; he tapped the table: "A brute-force fight might win one battle, but Vought isn't just Homelander. The government has already entered the fray, and congressional investigations will be used as bargaining chips."
Butcher continued: "Edgar will frame you as a national threat and then send those soldiers who took V24 to their deaths."
Rayne looked at him: "That's why I don't intend to follow his rhythm."
Becca looked up: "Then how do you intend to proceed? Homelander already knows about Ryan; he will come again."
Ryan clutched the soccer ball and asked in a low voice: "If he comes again, do I still have to hide?"
Butcher reflexively started to speak, but Becca glanced at him first. He held back his words and replaced them with a tougher comfort: "You stay with your mom for now; leave all that nasty business outside to the adults."
Rayne added: "Right, especially don't leave it to the giant baby in the cape. He already failed his parenting interview today."
Ryan held back for a moment, but still asked: "Will he tell the TV that I'm his son?"
Everyone in the room stopped.
Becca placed her hand on Ryan's shoulder, not answering for him.
Rayne pulled the computer in front of him and opened an encrypted folder: "He will want to do that, so before he speaks, we need to let the whole world see another Homelander first."
Hughie leaned over to take a look: "These filenames... Plane Incident, Silencing Records, Waste Line, V24 Project, Becca's Testimony Reserved?"
Butcher looked up abruptly: "What does 'Becca's Testimony Reserved' mean?"
Rayne looked at him: "It means it will only appear if she is willing to speak; if she isn't, nobody is to touch this thread."
Becca was silent for a few seconds before speaking: "I can speak, but Ryan cannot be pushed in front of the cameras."
Rayne nodded: "The child will not be on camera, nor will he appear in any materials. If Homelander wants to snatch his son, we'll keep him busy explaining what he's done first."
Frenchie tapped the keyboard a few times: "Annie just sent an encrypted confirmation. She can get the internal files for the plane incident, but she says the permission window is only for one time."
Mothers Milk looked at Rayne: "What about Maeve?"
Rayne picked up another phone, and a text message popped up on the screen.
"She has a video, the kind where Homelander commits murder with his own hands. She demands that we relocate Elena first."
Butcher slammed the cigarette pack on the table, wanted to smoke, but glanced at Ryan, and finally put the cigarette pack away: "So you're going to bundle all the dirt into a single bomb and throw it in the face of the entire nation?"
Rayne shook his head: "Throwing it randomly is useless. Vought will cut ties, call it a forgery, and use videos of Homelander saving people to suppress the heat."
Hughie added in a low voice: "So we need timing, we need different pieces of evidence to lock onto each other, and we also need the publishing source to be untouchable."
Rayne glanced at him: "Not bad, Hughie, you've finally upgraded from a mobile victim to a tactical support."
Hughie made a bitter face: "Thanks, but that title doesn't sound very auspicious either."
Mothers Milk held down the documents: "Then our next step is the final confirmation of the chain of evidence. Everyone needs to know what they are handing over, when, and to whom."
Butcher looked at Becca, his voice much lower: "You don't have to agree right now; I can wait."
Becca looked at him: "Billy, I've waited eight years. Now it's their turn to not be able to afford to wait."
Ryan grabbed her sleeve: "Mom, are you going to be on TV?"
Becca squatted down, pushing all the adults' arguments behind her while she spoke to him: "I might not necessarily go on TV, but I want to tell people that some people should not be called heroes."
Ryan thought for a moment, then looked at Rayne: "Then will he be even angrier?"
Rayne closed the computer and pushed the documents one by one to the center of the table: "He will. That's why this time, we can't rely just on words, nor can we rely just on fighting."
Butcher stared at him: "You finally admit that fists can't solve everything?"
Rayne looked at the table full of documents, his tone steady: "Fists are responsible for making sure he can't tell lies, and evidence is responsible for making sure the whole world doesn't dare to pretend to be deaf."
The phone vibrated again, and the encrypted confirmations from Annie and Maeve popped up at the same time.
Rayne placed the two messages on the desktop for everyone to see.
"Rest for two hours tonight, then start collecting evidence. Butcher is responsible for Becca's safety, Mothers Milk will keep an eye on the military, Frenchie will keep an eye on V24, Hughie will contact the publishing sources, and Annie and Maeve will be on the final confirmation list."
Butcher asked: "What about the release time?"
Rayne looked up at the old clock on the wall and tapped the table with his fingertip one last time.
"The next step: it's time to let this world see what A-Zu really is."