The Boys: Viltrumite Bloodline Panel

The world has never been fair. Only by climbing higher can one change the rules.

~ Lord of the Mysteries

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Hillel felt Homelander was too soft. He wasn’t even as violent as Queen Maeve.

"You hold the camera and make sure you get good shots."

Homelander had turned into a cameraman.

Just because his Heat Vision killed too clean and didn’t make those bastards suffer enough, Hillel had yanked his hero privileges.

"I think you’re going too far," Homelander muttered, clearly pissed.

If he was stuck behind the camera, only Hillel and Queen Maeve would end up on screen. How the hell were they supposed to sell this later?

Hillel didn’t give a shit.

On the fourth basement level, the iron door had a sign that read "Processing Area."

The rooms along the corridor weren’t cells anymore. They were operating rooms.

Sterile operating rooms had basically become the standard on this floor, complete with all kinds of expensive medical gear.

At the far end was a wall of freezers and two big incinerators.

Dried bloodstains covered the operating tables. Dark red sludge had hardened in the drains. The shadowless lamps were still burning.

Trays nearby held scalpels, bone saws, and hemostats lined up in perfect rows, like they were waiting for the next patient any second.

Hillel opened the first freezer.

Organs.

Kidneys, livers, hearts... all sorted and labeled.

Each label had the date, blood type, and a string of numbers.

Age range... nothing but young and healthy. That was the only thing that mattered for transplants.

No names. Just numbers. The people who ended up here didn’t rate a name.

The second freezer.

Smaller organs.

He shut it. He couldn’t bring himself to describe any further.

Hillel turned to the incinerators.

Unburned scraps inside. Bones... small ones.

Queen Maeve bolted out of the room.

This time she couldn’t hold it. She puked all over the wall, hard enough to bring up bile.

...

[Homelander — Emotion: Shock: Trust, Unity, Bond]

[Ability Points Gained: +27,890]

...

[Queen Maeve — Emotion: Breakdown: Disgust, Anger, Helplessness, Absolute Trust]

[Ability Points Gained: +31,200]

...

Homelander kept the camera rolling, filming everything.

Evidence. That was all that mattered.

"Time’s about right. Time to call Vought."

Hillel dialed Ashley.

"The joint FBI and Vought Crime Investigation Department task force will be on the island in an hour."

Ashley never missed.

...

One hour later.

The FBI Special Operations Group and Vought’s Supe Crime Investigation Department touched down together on this island of sin.

Blindspot was with them.

The blind guy’s super hearing made him perfect for sweeping the place. Who needs eyes when you’ve got ears like that?

The whole island got locked down tight.

A medical team set up a temporary rescue station on the beach.

One by one, the kids from underground got carried out.

Some couldn’t even walk anymore. Most of the rest were so fucked up psychologically they were headed straight for shelters or psych wards.

Several FBI agents vomited on the spot.

As for the guests who were high as kites and didn’t get killed in the banquet hall, they got handcuffed and dragged away. They were in for a nice round of high-voltage electricity later.

Alastair Adana leaned on two FBI agents and grinned at Hillel like he still owned the place.

"Do you know who I am? I know the President... I know... a lot of big shots..."

Homelander walked up and looked down at him.

"I’m curious about one thing."

Homelander suddenly pressed down on Alastair Adana’s shoulder. "Who told you about the layout of those rooms? Or did you already know from the start?"

"Hehe, Homelander, you have no idea how much those high-ranking officials love your type!"

"We’ve already got everything planned. When you get old and your powers start to fade, we’ll have people bring you to the island..."

"Plenty of them already put in orders for your sexy—Ug.."

Alastair Adana never finished the sentence.

Homelander had already grabbed his chin.

"To be honest, I don’t give a single fuck about what you people have been doing. But there is one thing I absolutely will not tolerate!"

Homelander grabbed a fistful of Alastair Adana’s hair and yanked upward, ripping off an entire layer of scalp still dripping with blood.

The FBI guys started to step in.

Homelander’s eyes lit up. "Get the fuck back!"

The agents backed off so fast they almost tripped over each other.

Alastair Adana screamed, but Homelander didn’t let him keep talking.

He gripped the man’s chin and started pulling downward, slow and steady.

Alastair Adana’s jaw made a wet crunching sound. The pain hit him like a truck. He thrashed and tried to pull away, but Homelander’s strength was way too much.

"Shh, shh, shh! Don’t talk. I don’t have many friends, but I do have the phone numbers of quite a few perverts."

"Do you know Tek Knight?"

"He’s got a private prison where he keeps all kinds of supe criminals. Plenty of regular people too, though they don’t last long once they’re inside."

Homelander kept pulling. Bit by bit, the jaw came off. Bone stuck to muscle, muscle tore into bloody strings, and half the masseter muscle ripped apart.

From where Hillel was standing, he could see straight down Alastair Adana’s throat.

It was full of blood.

Queen Maeve turned her head. She couldn’t watch anymore.

Alastair Adana had already blacked out from the pain.

With an injury like that, he’d die fast if he didn’t get help right away.

Hillel quickly propped him up.

"Brother, don’t die on us. You’ve got good days ahead!"

He dialed down the power on his Omega Beams and started cauterizing the wound inch by inch.

"Where are the medics? Aren’t doctors supposed to be all about saving lives? Get over here and do your fucking job!"

"Go!"

Ashley was sharp enough to catch the signal. She sent two medics running over with gear to stabilize Alastair Adana.

"Ashley."

Hillel waved her over.

"Sir!"

Ashley looked at the scene and already had a full PR plan forming in her head.

Was The Guardian a supe fascist? Pretty much.

He was going to become a god.

"Alastair Adana has to stay alive. You understand?"

"Understood, sir!"

"Also, get in touch with Tek Knight. We’ve got a party ready. Homelander personally made a hole for him... it’s gonna be a lot of fun!"

"Uh, Homelander’s hole?"

"Ashley, watch your fucking wording. It’s the hole Homelander made, not Homelander’s hole. There’s a very big difference. Can you understand what I’m saying?"

"Un-understood!"

Ashley could already tell The Guardian’s head wasn’t exactly screwed on straight either.

On a day like this, he was cracking jokes about holes.

"I’ve never had any interest in this kind of perverted shit, but this time I want to watch it happen in person. What do you think?" Hillel wiped the blood off his hands onto Homelander’s cape.

Homelander looked down at the fresh red stains on his cape.

"The Guardian, you just..."

____

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