Chapter Text
I didn’t remember having picked out specific powers. Obviously, I did, because I had them, but I didn’t remember that part. My first actual memory started in a hospital bed. There was pain and cold before that, but those are feelings, and not memories, so we should start in bed.
The room was, from what I could tell, nice. Nicer than what I was used to, at least. It was also cold to me. Not AC-cold, but actual cold. There’s a difference.
My body felt tired. One day, in my twenties, I had worked twenty hours straight, on my feet. A few years later, I worked sixteen-hour days for two weeks straight. Both of those times were small potatoes. This must have been what death felt like, surely.
There was a light, but I couldn’t go into it. There was also a person in scrubs, saying something in English. Definitely not the emergency room in town, then.
“Mister Shuster, can you hear me? You’re going to be okay. You were in a supe-related incident.”
Not my name, but okay.
“Huh?” Was my very intelligent first response.
Things continued in a way that was probably normal. I hadn’t stayed in a hospital bed in years. Decades, actually. He asked if I could understand him (yes), if I remembered what had happened (no). He asked for my name, and didn’t look happy when I told him. The nurse stepped outside. I was pretty sure this was one of those times when a nurse told their patient that they’d be really popular in a few minutes.
The nurse came back with a doctor. The doctor had what I called a white people smile, which I did a lot. The kind of thing where you didn’t actually smile, and just stretched your lips. An acknowledgement that it was an appropriate time to smile.
She asked a lot of the same questions, along with a few others, before checking my vitals on the machine next to my bed. I’d seen those in movies, I was sure. Weirdly, I didn’t have an IV, so they weren’t giving me saline or medication. Just… checking. Didn’t say her name, either, and there wasn’t a name tag that I could see.
“Mister Shuster, this is Saint Vitus Hospital, in Denver. You were transferred here after what we believe to be a supe-related incident.” She kept using that word. “You’ve been experiencing frequent seizures. Do you remember anything about that?”
“No. Can’t say I do.”
“That’s okay, Mister Shuster. We need to run some tests before moving forward. One of those tests is genetic tracing. We’ll need to take a cheek swab. Do you consent to this?”
Something about her wording didn’t sit right, and yet.
“Yes, Ma’am.”
It was a painless process. At most, slightly uncomfortable to have a cotton swab in my mouth. The nurse was gentle enough.
“Alrighty, Mister Shuster… we have what we need. We can also get an IV running, if you feel that’s acceptable. Due to the incident, we might not be able to use a typical needle.”
“Uhm, okay. Nurse…” I looked down. He did have a tag. “Peters, when you say supe-related incident, can we break that down for me?”
He looked back at the doctor, like he was trying to relay some silent message. She was looking at me.
“Well, Mister Shuster, that is actually what we’re trying to figure out. To summarize, we believe that you and your family were affected by a superhuman power. The entire building was frozen by some unknown means.”
“I… what? That, uh, that doesn’t make sense.”
Another look. The nurse looked pained, and the doctor looked like she wanted to be anywhere else.
“There’s bodycam footage. Of the site of the incident, I mean. I wouldn’t recommend seeing it just yet. What’s important is that you're safe, and we plan to get to the bottom of this.”
We?
“Okay. Can I… when you say frozen?”
“There are ice formations at the site. You were very lucky to only be at the edge of the structure.”
Yeah. That was what the word frozen meant. It had been a stupid question to ask. If I were lucky, then logically someone was unlucky. They couldn’t show me the footage. There was a question I wanted to avoid, but I had to ask it.
Pain. Cold. I woke up some time later. The room was colder, or maybe it was nighttime.
The same nurse. The same questions. New responses. The name was still not right, but everything else was closer. I had been touch-and-go for a bit there.
A different doctor. This time, I did ask the big question.
“We’re sorry, Mister Shuster. We have a team doing everything they can, but things are not looking optimistic. The other victims have been frozen for over twelve hours now.”
“I’d like to see the footage.”
“That can be arranged, but I’d like you to take the next few minutes to reconsider while we have someone set that up.”
There was no sudden recognition as I looked at these strangers, but it didn’t feel good. I had a list of names and ages. The doctor had been right. This felt grotesque. I had always been squeamish about gore, but even bloodless pictures seemed pretty clear. These were dead bodies. Eyes open, mid-shout, going to stand. Whatever happened to freeze them in place, it was like glass, and they had seen it happen. Every breath of air I took was cold, and I had a suspicion about what had killed those people.
“I killed these people, didn’t I?”
“I, Mister Shuster, as we explained,” the nurse sounded more tense now. Like he was in danger. “The investigation is still ongoing. We don’t have any answers for you at this time.”
“I’d like to be alone, if that’s possible.”
It was. Definitely not all the way alone, considering, but close enough that there was no danger.
I could focus on it. The cold feeling. Like one of those menthol lotions I’d rub on the inside of my nose if I had a cold. Like dunking my head in a bucket of mouthwash and trying to breathe in. I breathed in, and when I breathed out, there was a fogginess to the air. A blue glow too, almost.
Super breath. Probably ice, or cold, or liquid nitrogen. It probably did something when it came into contact with solid matter. Expanding or freezing around the air, maybe. I could feel something else. Other powers. I just had to choose to hold them instead.
I did not. One power that could ruin lives was plenty. I did touch them in my mind, though. Just to try and understand how it worked.
I could hold three powers. I had access to more than that, and it felt like I could make more or modify the ones I had. Cold breath (name pending), flight, super senses, super strength, and a very large power that I wasn’t even letting myself consider because what the fuck was that.
Pain. Cold.
The next time I woke up. New nurse. I skipped the questions and asked to use the bathroom. After that, and after answering them anyway, I was given something to work off of.
“Somebody from Vought is here to speak to you, Mister Shuster. Now that you’re awake, is it okay if I let her in?”
Vought? TV show Vought Industries, that Vought?
“Why is, um, a person from Vought Industries here to see me?”
Her tone was patient.
“International,” she said, correcting me. “And during a routine screening here, something pinged our system, and we contacted our network. This is a Vought international hospital.”
Ah. Saint Vitus. Vought was a medical company, and they made superheroes. I had powers. If anything, this was the measured response. They could very easily sedate me, or restrain me, or just shoot me dead. It was probably some nobody from regional management, then.
“Oh. Okay. Yeah, let her in, please.”
A few minutes later, a woman walked through the door. Older than me, maybe in her 40s or 50s. Well-dressed. Not wanting her to be anyone didn’t change who she was. I’d seen the clip of her in lingerie transforming into Homelander, then getting her neck snapped. His neck? Whatever. I'd also seen her get her head lasered in. Homelander killed her twice.
“Richard Shuster. I’m Madelyn Stillwell, Senior Vice President of Hero Management at Vought. It’s nice to meet you.”
Big title. Was there a Junior VP? She sat down in a chair by my bed. She smiled, which seemed pleasant enough, but she was a bad guy. Not a good sign. You never wanted the bad guy smiling at you.
“Likewise. What can I do for you, ma’am?”
“Well, Richard – can I call you Richard? We have a bit of an issue on our hands. Do you recall ever going to a hospital before?”
Well…
“No, I don’t. You believe that my… that the incident may be related to your company.”
It wasn’t a question exactly, though it was structured like one.
“Got it in one. I like working with smart people.” She really seemed to be generous with compliments. “We were trying to figure out a timeline for that, and, well, nothing. You were insured with your former employer, but it doesn’t look like you ever went to a clinic before last month.”
That sounded unusual and probably made a path to the main point. I didn’t interrupt.
“Our hospitals try to keep medical history in mind, and when we couldn’t find anything, a standard screening was used to check for a few notable elements. Can you tell me about your parents? Maybe they mentioned something about a family medical history.”
Didn’t love that line of questioning.
“Miss Stillwell? I, uhm…” Didn’t remember them because I wasn’t Richard Shuster. “I have some pretty big gaps in my memory right now. I’m pretty sure the seizures are new. I don’t think I would have, like, survived, you know?”
She didn’t seem surprised by that information.
“Thank you for letting us know. We can definitely try to find ways to jog your memory. Your phone, maybe?” That was a thought, and I could see my interest reflected back at me. “While we wait, there are a few blood tests we would like to have done. Set up an IV, too, while you’re still with us.”
“That seems reasonable.”
If they could get a needle in. I wasn’t using the durability power I could feel in my brain, but they seemed concerned about it. For all I knew, I was bulletproof.
Spoilers, they could. None of the powers I had going had anything to do with durability, so it wasn’t too shocking when the needle went in. They expected it to work, probably. Madelyn was still in the room. It was hard to see how she could be a threat to me, but the general impression I got was that she was trying to be non-threatening. Or maybe her default was to keep her hands in her lap.
Blood was drawn, and then an IV bag was connected to the same line. I made sure to ask what things were.
Saline, one liter, for hydration.
Acetaminophen, which was just Tylenol, for the general unwellness I was dealing with. Fuck me, I guess.
Lorazepam, which was –
“For epilepsy, and a mood stabilizer.”
Nurse Peters, the same one as the first time, was pleasant.
“Were you doing research?”
She was already adding it to the IV bag as we went. I had been prescribed that one like five years ago, or maybe next year.
“I think so, yeah.”
“That gives us something to go off of. I'll…” Peters looked at Stillwell. “I'll have this sent to the lab.”
Madelyn smiled at the nurse. Mouth closed. More like her lips stretching than an actual smile. And Peters was gone again. It felt weird. I had killed several people, and they were leaving me alone with this woman?
“Richard, what do you know about superheroes?”
I knew how they were made. I knew that one of them was going to kill her. Twice, apparently, but probably only once.
“I know Vought is the superhero company.”
“That's right. You're–” she paused. Why did she pause? “Vought International has been the company in charge of superheroes since its inception. We know everything there is to know about supes.”
“And you're trying to tell me I am a supe.”
I thought I could rip the band-aid off. Skip to whatever offer she wanted to pitch me.
“No. I think you already know that. The system ping was for a genetic marker. That's why I wanted to ask what you knew about your family history.”
“I'm, uh,” Did Richard know about this? “I'm adopted, I think. I saw the pictures of, well, you know.”
Richard’s parents had light hair, and he wasn't old enough that his parents would have gone all the way grey. It was the kind of thing that was personal enough that maybe I could get away with knowing, even if Richard never talked about it.
“Well, from what we can tell, you’re related to a prominent hero. It’s why I came to see you.”
“Okay. Is, uh, are they… alive?”
“He’s alive, yes. I can't share more at this time.”
“Okay.”
Madelyn Stillwell had said she was a VP. She probably didn’t even work with heroes herself, other than whatever thing she had with Homelander. Which meant that they sent her because of Homelander. I wasn’t going to say that, obviously, but that had to be the link. Maybe I was his son, or his clone.
She leaned closer.
“Listen, Richard, I understand that you may not feel comfortable yet. With the seizures, this may be a situation where you need help. Vought would be willing to help you because of that connection. Medically, financially, legally.”
There it was. Hospitals weren’t free. I had probably killed those people. Vought had a connection to this hospital and probably infinite money for lawyers. Richard had a job before. Did I have a bank account? They were a… I had the clip on the tip of my tongue. A pharmaceutical company that made superheroes.
“What would you want from me?”
“Just for you to come in. We can run some tests, and you can find out what is happening to you. Personally, I would like you to meet your brother. Is that something you’d be open to?”
Clone was still on the table. She was probably lying to me, somewhere in there.
“I’d be open to getting more tests done. But I need some time to think. Would that be okay?”
“That’s fine. We can discuss that later.”
It felt too easy.
They couldn’t get me my phone just yet. It was probably in the ice, even if they didn’t say as much. What they could do was start a few more tests in the lead-up to transfer. A CT scan, and lying in bed with a whole bunch of things stuck to my head.
Pain. Cold.
Apparently, they were getting shorter now, which was a good sign. I couldn’t tell the difference, and the room didn’t have a clock. It was also definitely a brain thing, according to the doctor whose name I didn’t know yet. Nothing showed up in my bloodwork or the CT scan. Vought would have much better tools in their own facilities, she assured me. I was very lucky to be getting the help I needed, I replied.
Early the next day, or technically the same day, according to the nurse, because of how late things had been going on, they had me sign a document. Some kind of form so that I could travel, from what the doctor said. I skimmed it. Something something release form. Something something consent to blah blah whatever. I didn’t know Richard’s signature, but I made an effort. Then I was out.
My room didn’t have windows, but the plane did. The sky was just turning blue as we boarded. I’d never been in a plane that small. It had to be private. Madelyn was there the entire time, as was another new nurse.
I still felt tired, but I was losing so much time to the seizures. I didn’t sleep. I wasn’t sure if I needed to now.
Bus, club, another club, another club, plane, next place, no sleep. If I made that joke, would somebody get it? The nurse, a different woman, did not.
“It’s a Lady Gaga reference. From an interview, I think.”
She chuckled. Explaining the joke made the joke better, clearly. I blacked out twice.
From the plane to a helicopter to what had to be Vought Tower. Somewhere in New York. It was about midday, from what I could tell before I went into the elevator. Down some number of floors, to what had to be the labs. In a different genre, this would be where I got dissected. I did not.
MRI first. I was given a new doctor; this one had a name tag. Doctor Reed was apparently a clinical researcher, but he had some background in neurology. The newest nurse was staying on, and apparently, her name was Lydia. No, I wasn’t claustrophobic, and no, I didn’t have any implants that I knew of.
Pain. Co–
I was still in the machine. Hm. It was short enough that I wasn’t done, or maybe MRIs took a long time. He had said an hour or two.
Eventually, I was put into a room. This one had a window, which I could appreciate. I even had a TV, which had cable, at least. A couple of hours later, we had results.
“Mister Shuster.”
“Doctor.”
“What have you been told about your condition so far?”
“The seizures, you mean? I know it’s not my gut or anything, if that’s what you mean. My chart should have mentioned, I don’t really…”
“It does. Doctor Taggart seems to have been very thorough. Something did come up in the MRI, and I have the radiologist’s interpretation. Would you feel okay to discuss it?”
He seemed nice enough, but it felt a bit like he was running through a checklist.
I nodded.
“This,” he said, pulling up an image on the TV after doing something on his phone. Fancy. “Is a typical scan from a healthy adult in your age range.”
“Definitely a brain.”
I was pretty good at those spot-the-difference games as a kid. He pulled up a second image.
“This is your scan, from earlier today.”
There was a dark X shape in the middle, and then a white spot in the top corner of the X, on the center line. I nodded, waiting for an explanation.
“The white point is a growth, approximately 5 millimeters in diameter, or the size of a pea, and it’s in the region between your frontal and parietal lobes.”
“So I have a tumor.”
“You have a growth,” he corrected me. “I don’t want to be too hasty, and tumor is a loaded term. I believe that this growth’s placement could have incited the seizures you’d been experiencing, along with the general fatigue.”
“Okay.”
Doctor Reed pursed his lips.
“I want you to know that whatever you’re feeling is understandable. This is intense news, and this is a safe space for you to express whatever you’re feeling.”
Wow. Thanks, doc.
“Was there anything else?”
“...Yes. I’d like to highlight that I don’t believe at this time that the growth is immediately life-threatening. I have a working hypothesis regarding your powers, too, but it’s very early, and I would prefer to take a few days before we touch that.”
“Well, I’m not dying yet. That’s good.”
“I agree. Thankfully, your condition has not worsened. We’ll be monitoring for the next few days and weeks. Based on those next data points, we can determine a treatment plan.”
If I wanted to, I could obsess on the circle of who felt that they knew what I knew they were thinking. That sounded insufferable and pointless. It was my body, but it wasn’t my body, and if the worst came to pass, I could make powers. I could probably make something for this. There was no point in worrying.
“Great. Uhm, maybe food would be a good idea?”
The next day, Madelyn got me Richard’s phone and a laptop that was apparently also mine, and we briefly had a chat. She was aware of the results, because of course she was. I could consider becoming a superhero once I was better. It was a very lucrative opportunity, and I could do some good. Great. Awesome.
The phone worked, which seemed weird if it was in a block of ice for several days, but I had other things to worry about. I decided to leave the laptop for another day.
I had text messages from half a dozen people checking to see if Richard was okay. I had emails from job applications he’d sent out. I had updates on his student loan payments. I had his socials. Richard was pretty cute. Dark hair and green eyes. He kind of looked like David Corenswet, the guy who played Superman, if he had a tan.
Ethically, was it wrong if I was a slut in his body? I probably shouldn’t. Or I needed to get on Doxy.
Richard also had a banking app. I didn’t know his passwords, but…
Some kind of hyper-intuition, or object reading. I knew I could do it. I could feel it in my brain somewhere. There was a pool of something, energy, I supposed. I just had to think of a power.
But did I want to be hyper-intuitive? No. It seemed unpleasant. Technopath? It would probably be easier to use. Or at least less likely to get me in trouble.
It needed to work up close. I didn’t care if I couldn’t use it from far away yet, but that was an option for later. I just needed to be able to bypass electronic and digital passwords and codes. I started thinking, and –
Darkness.
There was no pain or cold, but time had passed. About five minutes, or maybe six. It had to be connected to the other thing, but it felt completely different. I had the power, though, and the pool was smaller. So was the power, maybe a third of what the frost breath was.
It took more energy to plug it in. The tiniest amount. Did it take energy to swap?
I opened the app. At no point did I receive any information, but I could feel myself inside Richard’s phone. I could eat away at the memory, or the battery. I could fill the storage to full capacity. I could type without looking. I opened the app, and the password filled itself.
He had a bit of money. Just under five thousand bucks in savings. Probably a couple of months of his old salary. He owed like fifty grand in student loans. I’d lived my entire adult life in a country where private colleges were maybe 500 a month. Of course, I’d never had this kind of money in savings.
I spent days going through his emails and his social media. I replied to personal messages to say that I was alive, and to thank them for reaching out.
Between medical checkups, I came up with a plan.
Homelander was going to die. He was supposed to die, he’d killed people before, and he would kill again. I could save Madelyn Stillwell, Hughie Campbell’s girlfriend, and thousands more if I killed him. I needed to stop him before the worst of it, and preferably before the next kill. Maybe I could kill him, or maybe not just yet, but someday. At some point, he'd been a child in a lab. He was the product that Vought designed.
Madelyn thought I should meet him. She was like his mom, or something. She wanted me to sign on as a hero, and didn’t think that meeting Homelander would kill me. Otherwise, there would be no point.
I could take some time. See him. Agree to the meeting Madelyn wanted. I could decide later.
She smiled when I asked about the meeting.
A day later, I was in the room with Madelyn and Doctor Reed.
The conversation was relatively light. Madelyn had me sign a few NDAs, covering any trade secrets, and I signed. She never said who it was, but I knew. Doctor Reed asked if he had my permission to share my medical details, which he did.
“John, can you come down to meeting room 64-B?”
Eventually, I stood from the wheelchair they had given me. I wanted to be presentable, but I still didn’t feel great five days into the body. I didn’t know what to do with my hands, and I didn’t want to eat shit if I blacked out, so I had my hands on the table to brace myself. That was when he walked in.
He smiled as he opened the door and looked at me. It was a nice smile, and Homelander had very prominent canines. It reminded me of a cat.
“Uh… Homelander. Hi.”
The whitest teeth and the brightest blue eyes I’d ever seen. I might have been taller if I stood up straight, but he looked so buff. Objectively, he was a very attractive man. He was also a murderer who could crush my head in one hand. But he wouldn’t, probably. I was his brother, and he wanted a family.
Madelyn handled introductions. She looked perfectly calm to me. He seemed unbothered. She knew we were safe.
Doctor Reed seemed nervous. He probably knew more than I did but less than Stillwell.
The doctor started explaining, and it was the word related that really got Homelander going. Doctor Reed started explaining that we were half-brothers, and when Homelander asked him to shut up, I was sure Madelyn was wrong. But nothing happened. He read, and I could see a hunger in his eyes. There was something else there. An excitement, or maybe a mania.
“Well, Madelyn, it looks like we have our seventh member.”
Oh hell.
“We’ll have to talk to Image and Branding about this, but–”
“I’m sorry, no.”
He looked like somebody had shot his puppy. I didn’t want to be under him like that. It would put me in the line of fire and under a level of scrutiny that I couldn’t handle. I did feel bad for saying it. Homelander had very wet eyes.
I tried explaining myself, but I was making it worse. He stood up and asked Madelyn. It felt immature. A child going to his mother when he wasn’t getting his way. At least she didn’t seem nervous. When she didn’t answer, I stepped in, at least to make an opening for the doctor.
The doctor explained with a fair bit of caution. But the explanation sounded like what he’d told me. The idea that the powers and the brain tumor were connected was new. Homelander had questions, but I only inserted myself briefly.
“And it is… getting worse?”
“From what we can tell, his condition is improving, but we have less than a week of information.”
“It isn’t every day now, but it would be really bad if I seized up mid-flight.”
It was a carrot. Flight was one of those iconic powers. The kind of thing people liked to imagine, and from what I could tell, there were not many fliers in the setting. It connected us. Whatever had made me choose that power in whatever time I had before the first seizure, it was a smart call. He was looking at me. I smiled, trying to be reassuring. Homelander looked ready to cry. He had every right to feel whatever he was feeling. This was cruel. I was lying to him.
Madelyn explained her justification, though it had to be a bit of a lie, too. Did everyone lie to him?
“Homelander.” If I were going to lie, I would do it well. “I don’t think this is going to kill me. But until I know for sure, I want to take that time for us to get to know each other. We’re related, but I have… had… a family until now. Uh, the seizures, they’ve kind of fried my brain? I don’t really, like, know me. But I would like to get to know myself with you, if that makes sense.”
I was still workshopping my excuse, but it was based on what the doctor said. I was giving him a lifeline. A thing he wanted. Chocolate to a dog. He smiled, his eyes still wet. The lie was helping.
“I’ll do it. If you think about the hero stuff. I don’t need an answer today, but once we know you’ll be okay.”
The window of opportunity was limited. Homelander believed me, and I would get into his head. Then he would die.