The battlefield was a smoldering ruin—ashes of a city Homelander “saved” with laser eyes and dead smiles. Civilians littered the streets. Mothers. Children. All silenced in the name of “order.”
High above, hovering like a smug god, he grinned.
“You’re strong. I like that. Maybe we make a few super babies after I break you.”
He winked.
Neswt didn’t speak.
She blinked.
Crack.
Her fist shattered his jaw before he finished the grin. He flew back—bounced once across cracked asphalt—then screamed, blood trailing from his broken face.
“You BITCH!” he howled, heat vision igniting.
Neswt redirected the beams with an open palm, folding vector paths midair—turning them into a halo around her. Her feet never left the ground.
He charged.
Super-speed. Bone-breaking blows.
She absorbed, twisted, gave back double.
Kinetic bursts detonated from her elbows, knees, and hips—each strike fueled by memory, motherhood, and rage.
Homelander staggered, bones creaking.
“You’re supposed to fear me,” he snarled.
Neswt stepped close. “I’m a mother. Fear is what made me.”
She caught his arms. Crushed his wrists. Slid in a knee that ruptured his ribs. Then she grabbed his cape and drove him face-first through a building.
They rose from the rubble.
Homelander’s mask slipped. Bloodshot eyes. Trembling lip.
“I am the apex predator,” he whispered.
Neswt took his throat in one hand. “No. You’re a scared little boy.”
She crushed his larynx.
Heat vision fired wildly—arcing through the sky as his lungs filled with blood. He clawed at her—sputtered, begged, gurgled.
Neswt blinked again—appearing behind him—and drove her fist straight through his back, punching through his chest.
She ripped out his heart.
Let it beat once in her palm.
Then crushed it.
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