The morning air was cold and humid when Ryan returned to the clearing.
The ground still held the marks of previous nights — holes in the trees, broken pieces of wood, flattened grass. It was the only place where he could stop pretending to be a normal child.
Now, though, he wanted more.
He wanted to fly.
Not because he desired power for its own sake — but because he knew that one day he might need to run away with his mother. And if that day came, he needed to be fast enough to get her out.
He looked up at the sky, white clouds drifting slowly over the treetops. The breeze brushed his face, and for a moment he imagined what it would be like to be up there, feeling the wind against his body, free from everything.
"I can do this…" he murmured.
He took a deep breath.
The memories of the other world — the scenes from The Boys — flashed before his eyes.
He remembered his father hovering above the ground, the muted distortion of air around him. He tried to recreate what he remembered: the same focus, the same energy, but… carefully.
He didn't want to lose himself.
He closed his eyes and concentrated.
He felt his body grow lighter — first in his feet, then in his legs. The ground seemed to pull away, and an electric sensation ran down his spine.
When he opened his eyes, the world was… below.
He was floating.
Just a few centimeters, but still floating.
A smile formed — small, timid, but real.
I did it.
But his body was trembling. The air vibrated around him. It was as if every cell fought to understand what was happening.
The lightness became imbalance, and his heart began pounding too fast.
No… not now !
Control slipped away.
One second he was floating; the next, he was thrown upward, as if the air had shoved him. The world spun — the trees, the ground, the sky — everything swirling in a blur.
Ryan screamed. The sound vanished into the wind.
The impact came hard, a dry thud when he landed in the brush.
Amid the wind, confusion, and fear.
Bad luck — or maybe fate — made his landing spot end up being his own backyard.
Fortunately, his body held up. He coughed, staggering, heart racing.
"Shit…" he whispered, tears gathering in his eyes. It was over — his secret had been exposed. At least 60 cameras must have seen him, the impact probably alerted his mother, and on top of that—
"I can't control it…"
He stayed on his knees for long seconds, struggling to breathe. His face dirty, his hands shaking. Fear began to take over.
What if I hurt her by accident ?
What if I lose control and someone notices ?
But along with the fear came something else — a cold shadow descending over him, making the hairs on the back of his neck rise.
A sound cut through the air.
It wasn't the wind.
It was the distinct sound of someone descending.
Ryan lifted his eyes — and the world seemed to freeze.
Above the clearing, hovering like a predator watching its prey, was Homelander.
The blue uniform gleamed under the pale morning light, the red cape fluttering in the wind. The smile — that wide, fake smile — never reached his eyes.
"Well…" his voice came, calm and carrying something dangerous. "I figured I'd find you here, son."
Ryan's stomach twisted.
Every instinct screamed for him to run, but his legs wouldn't obey.
Homelander landed softly, his boots sinking slightly into the grass.
Behind the gleam in those blue eyes, there was something… hungry. Curious. Proud.
"Seems like you've been training," he said, glancing at the destroyed trees. "That's good. Shows you have… potential."
Ryan stepped back. "What are you doing here ?" he asked, trying to hide his fear.
Homelander's smile widened.
"Oh, Ryan…" he said, voice soft and paternal. "I came to see you. To really get to know you."
A low groaning sound came from behind Homelander.
A second man lay on the ground like an injured stray dog — cold eyes, unshaven, exhausted expression: Billy Butcher.
The contrast between them was almost surreal — on one side, the bright, artificial light of a god; on the other, the bitter weight of a broken man.
Butcher looked at Ryan with something the boy couldn't decipher — a mix of pity and restrained anger.
Ryan took another step back, his heart hammering.
Homelander's gaze and Butcher's met over him, and in that instant the boy understood: that moment would change everything.
The air felt heavier.
Becca was far away — and he was alone, caught between the monster who created him and the man who hated him simply for existing.
Ryan swallowed hard, fear and courage blending into something new.
I can't let them hurt her.
Homelander stepped forward, his smile almost gentle.
"Let's go home, Ryan."
The boy took a deep breath, quiet in the middle of a storm of emotions, his gaze steady despite the fear.
Homelander's smile faltered slightly at the boy's silence.