"Sit, Cerberus. Sit," Erasmus said.
He stared at the dog. He thought about reaching out with his imaginary hands to take control, but he hesitated. What if he accessed that simple mind and got stuck there? Or worse, what if he started acting like the animal himself?
Erasmus stood in the garden, staring at the dogs. He knew he couldn't keep rotting in luxury. He already had a target in his sights, someone in a state called Florida, but he was stuck in New York. He couldn't fly out yet; he couldn't blow his cover. He had to wait until Vought "caught" Vogelbaum and officially brought him into the fold.
"Sir, might I suggest an excellent dog trainer?" Oliver asked, standing a few feet back. "We have been out here for three hours and you have made no progress. At this rate, we might stay here a thousand years."
"A thousand years, Oliver? That's a stretch," Erasmus said. "At most, a hundred. And by then, I will have them all trained to sit."
Suddenly, his ears twitched. He picked up the sound of the air being ripped behind them. He could have reacted, but he couldn't show his powers now; he couldn't scare his new father. He simply pushed Oliver and Cerberus aside a split second before the world blurred.
The next thing he felt was the heavy, cold grip of a glove locking around his windpipe. He placed his hands on the gloved hand and started to pretend to struggle in the air.
Homelander kicked the door open, dragging Erasmus inside by the neck. Vogelbaum was already standing there, but when he saw Erasmus being held by Homelander, he was horrified, his old, withered face turning pale.
"JOHN, STOP!" Vogelbaum shouted.
"SHUT UP! You told me my son clawed his way out of his mother and drowned in her blood," Homelander began. "Stillwell told me it was a miscarriage."
He brought his free hand up, holding his thumb and forefinger a fraction of an inch apart.
"This close," Homelander shouted. "That's how close your stories were. So I will ask one time before I rip this thing's head clean off its body: WHERE IS MY SON?"
Vogelbaum looked at Homelander, then at the silent Erasmus dangling in his grip. The old man let out a long breath.
"You're holding him," Vogelbaum said.
"Damnation," Erasmus thought. "Abrupt change of plans. Think, Erasmus, think."
The silence that followed was absolute.
The pressure in Homelander's arm vanished. The fingers that had been ready to snap a neck softened, his grip loosening until Erasmus's feet touched the floor. He lowered him gently, his hand lingering on the boy's neck as if he were afraid the child might vanish.
"All this time..." Homelander whispered, his voice low and trembling. "You kept him from me. Why? What have I ever done to you?"
"John, you don't understand," Vogelbaum said. His heart was a frantic mess, but his voice was steady. "Erasmus is a kind child. He is gentle. He doesn't deserve to go through the hell that is Vought Tower. I wanted him to have a life, a good life. As his father, you should want that more than anything to your son."
"You hid my son away from me," Homelander repeated, not listening at all.
His mind was a violent emotional rollercoaster, wrath, shock, and a sudden, crushing grief. He looked at the thing he had wanted his entire life, the only legacy that mattered, and realized that in their first meeting, he had attacked his own blood.
A son he didn't even get to name! All because of the old man standing in front of him.
"I didn't even get to name him," Homelander muttered, his gaze fixed on Erasmus. "All those years... you stole those years because you decided I wasn't enough."
Homelander's eyes glowed a sudden, violent red. Two beams of concentrated heat cut through the air, hitting Vogelbaum mid-chest.
The old man didn't even have time to scream. The beams bisected him, then continued to pulse, carving the remains into a bloody, unrecognizable mess on the expensive rug.
"NOOO! DAD!" Erasmus shouted in frantic, desperate grief.
"I DIDN'T EVEN GET HIM TO MAKE ME THE HEIR TO THE ESTATE!" Erasmus thought in his head.
He lunged forward, his fist slamming into Homelander's chest.
He lunged forward, his fist slamming into Homelander's chest. The impact was heavy; Homelander was thrown backward, his body tumbling across the floor.
He ran to the bloody heap that had been Vogelbaum, falling to his knees. He reached out, his hands hovering over the gore, trembling.
"He is not your father. I'm your father," Homelander said desperately, his eyes wide and pleading. "He lied to us, Erasmus. He stole our lives."
"You ruined everything. I had so many plans," Erasmus thought internally.
Erasmus didn't look up. He stared at the mess on the floor. "So this is it, huh? Just like he always said," Erasmus whispered, but Homelander heard it clearly.
"What?" Homelander asked.
"When I asked him why I could never meet you... why I had to stay hidden in this cage..." Erasmus slowly turned his head. His blue eyes were wet. "He always told me that you would kill me. He said the moment you felt I was stronger... you would move to kill me. Just like you killed him."
"No... no, Erasmus, that's not true," Homelander stammered, horrified and confused, reaching out a shaking hand. "I would never... You're my son. That's a lie, believe me."